8. Shane

Chapter eight

Shane

It’s unfortunate that I’ve managed to run into the alpha and Finn again. After I left the diner hours ago, I’d gone to the library, searching for the answer to why my book isn’t flowing. As usual, it was a waste of time. I’d exited the building when it closed and run straight into Finn, who greeted me with exuberance that was slightly unnerving.

But seeing Finn reminds me of the cruel words I’d thrown at Bray. I close my eyes, hearing again the words I wished I could take back. All I remember was the way I felt everyone’s eyes on me. I remember willing him to stop talking, and then, like usual, my temper exploded out, and I just spit out the venom.

It’s better this way.

And yet, I can’t escape Finn. He is my conscience, whispering in my ear, chiding me for my bad behaviour, and trying to guide me in directions I don’t want to go.

I stand perfectly still as Erin turns towards me. She doesn’t smile, just tilts her head to the side and watches me. There is a strength in her I find lacking in me. I spent a few hours last night writing everything I could remember about her, but I’ve got more tonight to add to the list.

She is fascinating.

“Walk with us?” Finn asks.

I want to tell him no, but I don’t have the ability to speak. I simply make a sound that I hope will decline their offer and then jerk when Erin threads a hand around my arm and walks, drawing me with her.

She had commanded me to stop. Hours later, I’m still replaying that command in my mind, over and over. I wish she’d done it earlier. I curse that she acted so slowly. Would that I could take back the words that lashed more wounds in Brayson Langley.

Still, it’s fascinating that she was able to tell me to stop, and I felt the need to listen. Her hand is so small on my arm. I take note of the feel and colour on the nails, how they catch the light. Even after hours wandering the town, she still looks as good as she did this morning.

“Shane, Finn said you’re an author? What do you write?”

“Poetry,” I say shortly. It’s not entirely truthful, I did. But that was before. It normally stops any more inane questions about what I write. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Chesterfield.”

I nod. I’ve been there, it’s an ugly little city, very little green. It’s the definition of a concrete jungle. I make a sound of disgust.

Erin turns to me with a smile. “You must save all your words for the books, Alpha.”

I eye her out of the corner of my eyes, but it’s at that point that Bray and Locke appear and, to be honest, I am relieved. I have no idea what to say to this woman.

I watch Bray as he quietly returns Locke. It’s strange how defeated he looks. I want to stop him and ask if something’s happened. But I know it’s me. I’m the problem. I cause the pain on Bray’s face. It has been true since the day I walked into this tiny town and met him. He rocked my entire world. I knew instantly that he was mine.

But where Bray’s expression is familiar, Locke’s confusion and hurt are new.

The silence is tense.

Finn talks, but when I think he will stop Bray, he lets him go. Why does he do that? I don’t understand the tension between Bray and Finn, but they are competition and on opposing sides of the town. Bray is the bad boy with a reputation that is blown out of proportion. Finn’s reputation is golden and untarnished, and the town loves to throw them at each other.

I rub my jaw, try to shove the distracting thoughts away, and turn back to study Erin.

She reaches out and touches Locke’s back. He turns and steps into her, moulding himself to her. I pay attention to the way she reacts, her eyes scanning the environment, her hands clinging to his. When she shifts her weight, so does he. It’s instinctual, a dance, symbiotic movement.

She’s tense, defensive, protective. Why?

I pull out a notepad and write those three words down. When I look up, I find Finn, Erin, and Locke staring at me.

“What?” I snap and wince at my defensive tone.

“What are you writing?”

I stare at Finn and finally break free of his stare, walking past him and into the street. My writing is personal and private. The revelry is slowing down a bit, but that’s because most people will be heading out to Finn’s for the music tonight.

Ugh! I need to find my noise-canceling headphones.

I stop when I’m near my truck, far away from their probing eyes, but stop short when I catch sight of Bray roaring up the street on his bike. My chest gets all tight, and I get this strange, horrible feeling that I should chase him, which is ridiculous because Bray hates me.

I watch until he’s gone, and then stomp towards my truck, furious at myself for continuing to be mixed up and confused about him still.

He’s not for me. He might feel like mine, but that’s not my future.

I get in and drive away, refusing to acknowledge the fact that I might be running.

I get home and sit in the truck. Restlessness keeps me in the cab, drumming my fingers on the dash. It takes five minutes before I cave. I get out, but I don’t go into the cabin. Instead, I take the trail that goes near my house, and I walk. I’ve got good vision in the dark, but even if I didn’t, the moon is huge tonight. I’m not even sure when it changed from twilight to dark, I was too deep in my thoughts of him.

I find the lookout just fine and spot the bike. I stand in the tree-line, watching. Bray leans his head back and shouts. It’s the kind of sound that makes your skin crawl. It’s a sound of despair and hopelessness.

This is where I first fell for this alpha. The smile is gone; the laughter isn’t in his eyes. He’s not flirting or teasing. All that’s left is the raw pain and existence that is Bray. He’d been captivating and so much deeper than I’d ever thought.

He has become my muse. I stand in the tree-line and watch as he picks up a branch and whacks a tree. He beats the tree until the branch snaps, and then he throws away the piece that he has. He scrubs his fingers through his hair and groans.

“I am such an idiot.”

I want to ask why. I want to reveal myself, but I’m a coward, like all the other times I’ve been here. It’s agony to stay silent. I remain hidden, wishing, wanting, frozen by fear.

If I could speak to him, I’d say it’s not him that’s the idiot, but me. Those words I said in jealousy, in misery.

I watch as he picks up his helmet and puts it on his head. He climbs on his bike and disappears.

In the dark, alone, I wander back to my cabin, thinking over the strange behaviour of Bray. He said my ass looked good. He was mocking me, obviously. What else happened to leave him looking so defeated? Is he finally going to do it? Is he going to leave?

My heart jumps into my throat and threatens to strangle me.

I get home and rush over to my desk, sitting and putting the ponderous words down before I forget them. When I look up, three hours have passed, and I can hear the sounds of music and people having fun.

After I devour something, I clean up and then go out onto the porch.

Before I can stop and think about it, I make myself walk towards the main house. The party will go late. I don’t know what makes me seek companionship tonight, but I need it.

Am I searching for him or her?

Or both? Or more?

I see the lights but refuse to let myself waver. There are more people than I anticipated, and it almost makes me retreat, but I see her standing there, leaning against the bar, her body encased in a dress of teal and white. She raises an eyebrow and then pushes off the bar, the dress twitching in opposition to her hips.

There’s something so calming about this woman. I scowl as she gets closer, but she doesn’t touch me. She holds out a beer. I take it and edge closer to her, surprising myself.

“Where is your friend?”

She smiles up at me and points to Finn, who is dancing with Locke. It’s the first time I’ve seen Finn dance, and the sight is scorching. I wheeze and suck down half the bottle. I watch them for a long moment and then scan the place, searching for Brayson.

He’s not here, I realise, and I’m disappointed.

I focus on Erin, but she’s sipping her beer and watching Finn dance. He truly is a horrible dancer, but Locke is laughing and appears to be having a great time. It’s just seeing them together is doing all sorts of things for me.

“How long have you known him?”

“Not long,” Erin says back and steps closer to me. Her breasts brush against my forearm, and I swear, my whole body goes still, focusing on that minute touch.

“He’s got strong feelings for you.” I clear my throat and awkwardly peer at her again.

She just tips her beer down her throat with another one of those mysterious smiles.

I flounder, unsure what to say, but the longer the silence lasts, the more frustrated I get.

“Walk with me,” Erin says suddenly, then turns and heads outside.

Anything is preferable to being inside with all these people and noise, so I follow her. Her ass is divine. She’s the kind of woman I’ve thought about for years. I’ll now have a face for my spank bank.

I shove those thoughts aside as I approach Erin. She sits down on the stairs and leans back, smiling up at the night.

“I needed this. All I did was work. I never stopped. I can’t remember the last time I looked at the stars.”

“Why did you work so hard?”

“Because I wanted to be the best, I kept setting up goal posts and moving them, over and over, more and more success.”

“Did something happen?”

“I mean, not really. I achieved it all. There are only a few things left to do, like, get a high-profile case, charge millions of dollars, become a judge. I’m not interested in any of them. I simply got bored.”

“Did you want to be a lawyer?”

Erin laughs. “Noooo, I wanted to be a princess and have a circle of knights. But my aunt said if I could argue like that with her, I could go and do it professionally. She was right. I was good at it.”

I chuckle and sit down beside her.

“Brayson and you have a thing going on.”

It’s not a question, so I don’t answer it.

“I don’t know what it is, but it’s powerful. You should both try talking to each other, though.”

“Talking is the problem. I don’t do it well, and he does it too well.”

Erin laughs again. “That shouldn’t make sense, but it does. I get it. Still, it’s a shame to see people being unhappy when they have a chance to have something incredible.”

I shake my head. “Complicated. You and Locke?”

She grimaces. “Complicated. I hate secrets and lies. He’s keeping some big ones.”

“His secret isn’t that big,” I say before I can think.

Erin sits up straight and turns in my direction. “You know it? He told you?”

My anxiety explodes, and my attempts at words fail, coming out in stuttering sounds as panic pours over me, making my skin feel like it’s rippling.

I shake my head, but I’m standing up, backing away. Erin reaches out and grabs my shirt.

I back into a hard body and turn my head. Brayson winks at me.

“Hello, hot stuff, you want to back into me, you’re free to any day.”

I jump away from him but find myself squaring off against Erin again.

Finn and Locke appear on the edge of my vision, but I ignore them to focus on the threat in front of me.

“Just tell me.”

I shake my head, while Brayson tips a beer, swallowing. I watch his Adam's apple bounce and almost cry with the sudden knee-capping need to bite him.

I glance at Finn, but he’s not saying anything. In fact, he’s just watching with mild curiosity on his face.

“Tell me,” Erin wheedles. She hasn’t seen Finn or Locke.

I glance between them, my anxiety sending lightning strikes into my brain.

“Stop,” I whisper.

Bray lifts a hand, silencing Erin, and to my surprise, he comes closer and puts his hands on my ears. He guides me up the trail and away from the noise until we’re standing in the dark. I think we’re alone, but I’m not sure. All I can do is stare into those light brown eyes that I know so well.

I’ve written sonnets about his eyes.

Why is he helping me?

“You all right?” It’s easy enough to read his lips. He’s right there in front of me.

I nod, and he cautiously lifts his hands off my ears.

I watch him step back, but I’m lost in a place of wonder and distorted reality as a kind Brayson moves away from me.

“Locke is an omega.”

I don’t know why it comes out. I blame my distracted self, but it’s not until I hear the gasps behind me that I turn. Erin is staring at Locke, her eyes wide. Finn looks surprised, and when I glance at Bray, his eyes are so fucking sad. I’ve disappointed him.

But Locke…Locke the omega is pissed. Really pissed.

Great.

This is why I don’t talk.