9. Jeffrey

Trevor

Hey man, I'm going to the bar tonight. You wanna come?

Becky

Martha misses you, you should text her back. I know it's been a while…but you were so good together. It's silly to throw that away, you know?

Martha

How are you?

Richard

Stir fry at eight pm next week. Tuesday.

Bring your dog.

Blair

Who do you think would win in a fight? Gomez Addams or Herman Munster? Enquiring minds need to know.

Also come Tuesday!

Seriously!

My apartment.

It'll be awesome.

Avery

Don't forget the shipment of frog warts is coming in Wednesday. Needs temperature controlled ASAP, please and thank you. I have to do lunch with Violet so I won't be in. I'll bring you back a sandwich. I'll love you forever if you head in early. I'm not sure when the delivery will arrive.

I stared down at the steadily growing pile of unanswered texts in my inbox, turned my phone off, and spat the rest of the toothpaste in the sink. Even my orgasm—which had been fantastic— couldn't block out my rising panic. My hand shook as I set my toothbrush down, closed my eyes, and tried to breathe. The cold counter bit into my palms as I squeezed it tight, looking for balance.

I just want to be left alone.

Why can't I be left alone?

My therapist had told me to try to rely on someone else. And part of me was tempted to ask Mutt—who I'd left in the other room, naked on my bed—to crush my phone.

Did that count?

Fuuuuck.

What was wrong with me?

"Jeffrey," Mutt's voice was soft where it echoed in the crack beneath the door. "You are upset." Apparently he hadn't stayed where I'd left him.

"No shit, Sherlock," I muttered under my breath—but that felt mean. It felt really mean, and I hated that I'd said it immediately.

"Let me in."

For a guy who's here on "business" he sure doesn't have much to do.

Exhibit A: Every day this week, Mutt-the-dog had been waiting outside Avery's shop for me to finish work. He'd nap or chase butterflies, his thick chocolate brown coat flickering in the weak autumn sunlight. He was always there, standing sentinel in my peripheral vision. No matter what Avery and I were doing, I could always see him. And that comforted me in a way nothing else ever had.

What I didn't understand was why he'd go to such lengths to stick around me.

Sure, we'd met in Colorado.

Sure, we had this kinda…freaky sort of connection. And he was hot like fire and made my blood sing.

But there had to be some other motivation, right?

He couldn't simply be here because he wanted to keep me safe.

Except that he probably is.

Dude doesn't have a nefarious bone in his entire Gigantor body.

All my life I'd been the solid one. The dependable one. The one that laughed in the face of danger—not because I wasn't frightened, but because you either laughed or cried, and I was sick and tired of being weak. Was it still bravery if you felt you had no choice?

I don't know.

Either way, I'd always known my place.

But now…now I was skittish and lost. I wanted to hide behind Mutt's bulk and never come out again. Either Mutt, if I was being honest. Hairy or…slightly less hairy. I wasn't picky. And having a second set of eyes watching my back at any given time helped soothe the part of me that was still a lost little boy, just waiting for the monsters to hurt him.

Alright.

That was a fucking lie.

I had a preference.

Of course I fucking did.

Mutt the dog offered comfort, yes, but he didn't laugh at my jokes. He didn't tell me I sang like an angel, making me rethink that word entirely and what it had used to mean to me. He didn't stare at me like I'd hung the fucking moon—okay yeah, maybe he did—but still.

There was something about warm arms and Mutt's sunny grin that settled me in a way nothing else ever had. If I decided to hide in his arms for the rest of all time, I got the feeling he wouldn't mind. Not that I could, mind you, because he'd already told me he was only here until January.

He just liked being around to protect me. I could see it on his face. See the way he puffed up with pride, like simply providing a buffer between me and the world gave him purpose.

But accepting that was…hard.

I had a nasty tendency to look for the worst in people. And I knew that. But still, it was difficult to turn that off. To ask for help. To believe what I already knew instinctively to be true, when my mind was full of traps.

Even now, when Mutt was sitting outside the bathroom door waiting for me, I struggled crossing that metaphorical distance. Admittedly, I wanted him to push inside the room and wrap himself around me. I wanted to be crushed against his chest. Held close and tight, until all I could smell was him. Until all I could hear was his heartbeat.

I needed him, but I couldn't bring myself to ask for help.

Maybe it was Lydia's training.

Or maybe it was the fact that no one had ever helped me when I needed it before.

Asking for help felt like trying to speak a foreign language.

"Fine, I'm coming—" The door pushed open and I jolted the second hot arms curled around my body, just like I'd hoped they would. Mind fuckery. Mutt's nose pushed into the soft hair at the nape of my neck. Exactly the way I needed, like he was a fucking mind reader. He squeezed and squeezed, tight enough I could hardly breathe.

Still standing at the sink, frozen, I let his bulk protect me from the door and the world it led to. I couldn't stop shaking, but like usual, no tears accompanied my panic. They never did. Not anymore.

"You did not answer me," Mutt accused, gently, an explanation for why he'd barged in, no doubt. "Who hurt you?" he asked so softly I wasn't sure it wasn't my imagination. "My sweet, pretty, perfect Jeffrey."

I shook my head, the words too choked to rise, even if I had wanted to talk. Which I didn't. I never did. It didn't help. But Mutt's arms did. They did. And I fell into them easily, curling tight inside his grip as I took a shuddery sob in, trying my hardest to stop the tremors.

I looked stupid.

In the mirror.

My hair was a goddamn mess and there were hickeys on my neck. The dark circles beneath my eyes were somewhat better, but there was no denying the fact I looked like a fluffy-haired trainwreck.

I could hardly recognize myself.

Pretty and perfect were not words I embodied. Not right then, with my lungs seizing, and Mutt's giant body curled over mine. His eyes flickered in the mirror, staring at me—not my reflection, like he hadn't noticed it was there at all—he was so engrossed in making sure I was okay.

"No one hurt me," I said, but that was a lie. A lie he could easily see through, wolf or not.

"Shhhh," Mutt rumbled against the top of my spine, his hands hot and gentle as he rubbed over my heart, my arms, across my body. I hadn't realized how cold I'd gotten till then. Till his heat bled into me and he pulled me tighter against him.

His attention was everything I needed and too much all at once.

"Shhh, it is hard what you are going through." There was so much compassion in that statement. Too much. I couldn't help but react, because he was right.

It was hard.

And it fucking sucked.

And all I'd done was brush my goddamn teeth and check my goddamn phone—and look what a mess I'd made.

"It is," I bit out, telling the truth for once.

" It is, " he agreed. "But you will survive it."

I laughed, because I wasn't sure if he was right or not. But hearing those words out loud? Yeah. It helped. It helped so much.

"You will survive," he said again, pulling me away from the counter, though my fingers didn't want to let go. He gently removed them, one hand at a time, before he swung me to face him, so I could no longer judge my own reflection. His massive palms scrubbed across my cheeks, fingers tangling in my hair, covering my ears. His hands blocked out the buzzing from the light overhead, and the swoosh of cars out on the street. One of my neighbors was blasting music above us, loud enough the ceiling vibrated, and even that disappeared.

The world was quiet.

And his eyes were blue .

So, so blue.

Like the ocean view off our balcony in Oregon. The apartment Blair and I had shared when we'd become adults. He'd filled it with plants, and I'd often catch him sitting out there staring at the water.

I hadn't understood until now.

Because blue was calm, steady, and loyal.

I just hadn't seen that before.

"Today is hard," Mutt repeated gently, ducking his head till our noses bumped. "But one day, it won't be. There will be a day when you forget the pain. When it is simply a memory. Wounds heal, Jeffrey."

I wanted to believe him.

So badly.

I squeezed my eyes shut again, because looking into his gaze made me feel raw. "You are tired," Mutt stroked over my shoulders, before one heavy palm slid back to squeeze my nape tight. The bruise on my neck that he'd left stung, but it was a welcome pain. This was the same thing I'd always done to soothe Blair, even when we were tiny.

I saw now why it worked.

Why he melted, every single time.

My body felt like putty as the tension seeped away and Mutt rumbled his approval. He pinched harder, and finally, I began to relax. "It has been a long day, hasn't it? You are tired, and have given so much to me already. You need to rest."

Every day was a long day, but I didn't tell him that.

I nodded, still refusing to open my eyes because everything was too bright, too much, too-too-too. I wished the tears would come, but they didn't. I couldn't remember the last time they had.

Maybe it had been when I was nine? When I realized my mistake and that no one would be coming to save me. That because I'd left my family behind in Elmwood and gone along with Lydia, it had facilitated her plan to frame Blair's parents for my death and allowed Blair to be kidnapped too.

People had died because of me.

That it was my fault.

Or maybe…

Maybe it had been the first time Lydia had taken me monster hunting. After I'd stared at the carcass of the goblin I'd killed and promptly thrown up all over my new white sneakers.

No…no.

I remembered now. It had been when I'd come home that night this last spring to the blood smears in our kitchen. When Blair's car had been gone. When I'd called him, and called him, and called him, and he hadn't picked up the phone—and I'd thought?—

I'd thought she'd finally killed him.

That he was gone.

That I'd never see him again.

"Oh my, sweet one," Mutt's arms shifted, his hands sliding away. For a moment I was weightless as he pulled me up easily, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist. "You are hurting ."

I was.

I was.

I was ? —

And I couldn't seem to stop.

It wasn't fair. I should be basking in my orgasm. I should be snuggling him because it had been what I'd wanted for weeks now, not because I was falling apart at the worst possible moment.

"Sweet, sweet Jeffrey." I did not feel sweet, I felt wretched . "So good, so perfect." I did not feel perfect. I did not feel good. I did not— "It will be okay." My heart ached and I shuddered, dropping my head against Mutt's shoulder as he pushed the bathroom door open, somehow, and we made the journey down the small dark hallway to my bedroom. "You will see."

I didn't understand why he was here.

Why he'd stayed after the sex was done.

I didn't understand him .

I didn't.

But I was grateful all the same as he laid me on my bed and tucked the blankets around me. The window was cracked open and the wind whistled through it as Mutt climbed onto the mattress behind me and curled himself around my body like a giant hairy cocoon.

He held me.

No one had ever held me before.

He was a man. He was a werewolf. I shouldn't feel the way I did about him. I shouldn't—I shouldn't—but I did. I pressed into him, I buried my shame against the sheets, and he kissed the back of my neck over and over and over again.

Patient.

I had never known patience like his.

A soft howl echoed through the crack in the window the moment my shaking had become nothing more than a tremor. It was a mournful sound, wicked and as spooky as a town like Elmwood promised. A place full of impossible things.

Mutt groaned, squeezing me tighter. "I must go," he said, his voice hoarse and almost… angry?

I'd never heard him angry before.

"Please," I said, surprised when the word burst out without permission. He had to go. What was I doing? Asking him to stay?

"I would not leave if I had a choice," Mutt said quietly, squeezing me even tighter. "You have to know that by now."

I didn't understand it. But I supposed he was right.

"I guess I'll…see you around?" It was the second time I'd said that, and I hoped next time, I wouldn't have to accuse him of stalking me to get him into my bed.

"Soon," he promised, kissing the back of my neck one more time before he stroked a hand through my hair and rose from the bed. His movements were jerky and angry, nothing like the normal, casual sway of his athletic body.

Mutt was agitated .

Another howl echoed through the window and I pulled my blankets tighter around me as I watched him jerk his still wet jeans on before he turned to face me one last time. His eyes flashed, his fangs elongated, his broad body lit up by moonlight.

He looked ethereal.

Every inch the supernatural being that he was.

"Rest," he commanded, and I nodded.

And then—he pulled the window open and leapt out of it. There was a quiet thump as his feet met the ground outside. Casually jumping down two fucking stories like it was nothing. My heart raced as I shucked the blankets off and dove toward the window to make sure he was okay.

His half-bare body was already bounding away, loping between cars in the parking lot before he launched himself over the back fence with a graceful ease that left me breathless. When he landed, Mutt stood on the other side of the fence, moonlight lighting his tan skin as he twisted back to look at me, blue eyes flashing.

Another howl rang out, this time closer, and Mutt tipped his head back to answer, low and throaty. A haunting sound that had my heart racing and my hair standing on end, just like it had the first night we'd met when I'd heard his growl and realized what he was. The moon in the sky was nearly full again, and the way it glowed only added to the eerie feeling that settled like fog in the air.

And then Mutt was gone.

Gone.

Again.

And I was alone.

Just the unanswered texts on my phone for company, and the empty warmth of the space he'd vacated in my bed.