11. Tristian

Hearing Elliot ask me to teach him how to be a mate is one of the hottest things that's ever happened. My dick gets distracted, thinking of how sexy it would be to teach him about pleasure. I imagine Sadie splayed out before us as I direct him on how to take her apart. I can see the image so clearly in my mind, how his strong body contrasts with her soft curves, and the trust in his eyes when he asks me what to do.

Shit.

I shift around on the ground, resting my hands on my knees to cover the evidence of my inappropriate and ill-timed thoughts. It's a fantasy. Elliot came to me for help. The last thing he needs is me perving on him.

Besides, the question shouldn't interest my dick because his asking is also heartbreaking. Elliot doesn't see himself clearly, his vision distorted by too much pain. I don't know much because he rarely gives us information about his past. Everything I know has come from little kernels and facts strung together. From what I've gathered, he grew up believing he was no good and never would be. Since Sadie arrived at the end of last summer, he's started opening up. She's like his personal sun, and he's blossomed in her rays.

But now, those old wounds have been ripped open, and he blames himself. He's always blaming himself. I want to help him find a way to see what I see. He's trustworthy. He thinks about others more than himself. He's kind and caring. And he loves our omega, shows her every day. He's showing her now simply by asking me to help him.

"What do you want to know, El?" I look at him from the corner of my eye where he's sitting on the grassy knoll.

He's wearing his work uniform, a polo with the gym's logo and his name stitched underneath. It highlights his corded arms, and I trace them with my eyes until I get to his veiny hands. I watch as he opens and closes his meaty fist.

I do not imagine his grip on my dick. Nope.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking," he says, exasperation leaking into his tone.

I shrug. "I can't teach you what I don't know."

"You know everything," he says as if it's both a fact and totally remarkable.

I knock his shoulder lightly with mine, and he gives me a rare smirk. "Not everything."

"You're the smartest person I've ever met. And you don't go around lording it over everybody's head." He picks at a patch of grass, stripping a long strand of its seeds.

"Thank you." My cheeks burn with heat. I like that he put me at the top of his list of who to talk to, and I like that he thinks I'm a good man. But I hate that he doesn't think he's as deserving of praise. "What makes you think you're not already a good mate?"

Elliot looks away from me at the little brook. "Because she's sick, and I think I'm making it worse."

"She's exhausted, and I'm her mate too. She's got a whole pack. A strong one. If you're to blame, then so are we."

"How can you say that?" he accuses, whipping his head to glare at me. "None of your bonds are like mine."

"No. They're not. You can't control your past any more than the rest of us. We all have bad experiences that can cloud our memories and moods and affect the bond, but that's also how it should be. Bonds help us know how to be good mates. They show us what our partners need and allow us to give it directly."

"It can't be right, asking her to carry my shit," he grits out the words, raw and full of self-hatred.

"But you think you should have to do it alone?How is that fair? That isn't how packs or mating works. We don't know everything about bonds, but I do know that shutting her out isn't the answer. It could break your bond, destroy her and the pack."

"I know." Defeated, Elliot blows out a breath but still won't meet my eyes. "My head is a fucked-up place. I feel like maybe I never should have saddled her with it in the first place."

"El, you can't mean that."

He still won't look at me.

I dart into his space until I finally find his blue eyes. "El?"

"I'm fucking selfish. It felt so good to be around her, and I wanted her with us. I wanted to keep holding onto that fire. I knew she needed to be here where people could love her. So no, I don't mean it, but I wish I were strong enough to. I'm no good for her."

I shake my head, frustrated by how wrong he is. I understand it comes from a place of desperation. He wants to protect her. He's struggling and feeling out of control, and he's scared. "You're ours. She's ours. What's happening isn't our fault. It's nobody's fault. Life is hard sometimes."

"You don't think I know that?" His jaw tics, the muscle straining against the skin.

"I think sometimes you think only bad things happen." I look away from him, pleading for patience and some inspiration for how to prove to him that he's a good alpha, a good mate.

Maybe I need to start with confidence. When my students struggle, it usually works to remind them how much they've grown and let them practice something they've already mastered. It's hard to see it right now, but there is good stuff too.

"Tell me about something good since bonding Sadie. Something you did that you know she liked. Something that came from love."

"What?" Elliot whips his head toward me.

"Come on. Humor me." I keep my tone light, trying to steer us toward something to help him see he's already doing what he came here to learn.

Elliot gets up and paces the stretch of grass in front of me.

I wait, lying back on my briefcase and staring at him. It's no hardship. He's sexy as hell. The muscles in his thighs bunch into rocks each time he takes a step, and errantly, my mind wonders how they would feel wrapped around my waist.

He pivots to face me, hands on his hips, and glares at me. "No. How is that going to help?"

Forcing myself to focus on him and not his general sexiness, I get up slowly and step into his space. I show him with my eyes and body language that I intend to touch him. When I reach out my hand for his chest, he nods.

My hand against his shirt spreads tingles through my whole body, my alpha desperate to comfort his, to hold him. But this contact has to be enough for now, maybe for always. "You need to open the bond. It's a nonnegotiable, if you want to keep her safe. You asked for my help. This is it. So, answer my question. If you can't answer it now, then think on it."

I run my thumb along his chest, over his heart, and look into his troubled blue eyes. I soothe him until my big, sweet, hurting alpha's breathing evens and some of his raw agitation fades. I bite my lip on the inside so I can hold back my tears. They don't embarrass me, but he wouldn't understand why I was crying. Most likely, he would blame himself. And he's not ready to understand.

The truth is complicated. He's my mate, and because of that, I can do this for him. My scent, my touch, it works as it's supposed to. Even if he doesn't understand it as more than pack, the bond has formed enough that I can give him this small comfort. Even that has taken years. And I'm grateful. So grateful. But gods, do I always want more.

"I want you to teach me how to do that," he says softly. "I'll learn. I promise I'll answer any of your questions. I only want to learn how to do what you do."

"What is that?" I ask, though I don't know if I can stand to hear the answer.

"To give her a home."

His words catch in my throat. They're like his scent, bittersweet. My heart expands and cracks at the same time. It's a tiny fissure of heartache that cuts down to my marrow.

"What do I do that makes you believe that?" It feels selfish to ask, and maybe it is, but if I'm going to do what he's asking of me, I need to understand.

"When I came. The way you and the guys…" He steps back from my touch, pacing again. "I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm not like you. I don't have the words. You just did it. You do it with Red too. It's like you know what she needs, and then you do it."

His words are humbling, reminding me that even if I do know what my mates need it doesn't always feel like enough. Elliot's panic is picking back up, his words holding that edge that tells me he's close to his limit. I grab my briefcase from where I discarded it and right my clothes. "All right, enough talking about it for today. I'll think on it. But think about that question I asked you earlier."

He nods, as if my permission has finally freed him of the requirement for words.

"But you're better than you think, and I will prove it to you." I hold out my hand. "Come on. I'll walk you back to your Jeep before my next class."

After my conversation with Elliot,my mood tanks. I spend my office hours interviewing by phone for a public health campaign while simultaneously trying to grade a stack of papers. Everyone in the pile ends up with either an A when I'm distracted or an F when I'm frustrated by the host's lack of preparation. So it looks as though I'll be doing those again.

My foul mood lasts through my next class, a small upper-level theory course. More than half the students didn't do the reading for the lesson, clearly skimming abstracts. I told them all to leave and come back when the work was done. Not my best teaching moment.

I'm being pulled in too many directions. I need to focus on my pack. I don't have long until the summer semester, but it can't come fast enough.

I speed through the drive home and am not surprised to find Graham waiting for me on the porch.

He's a welcome sight. Graham has that classic alpha physique. He's tall and built, strong as an ox, and tan from his time in the sun. Even at the end of the workday, with his sun-streaked brown hair curling and wild under his cap, he looks effortlessly handsome in his worn jeans, work boots, and company T-shirt.

He lopes down the stairs and meets me at the door to my car, taking my briefcase and pulling me into a hug. "Rough day?"

"A little." I take a deep breath of Graham-infused air, the electric feel of rain on the wind. His arms wrap around my waist, and I nuzzle into his chest. "How is she?"

"She had a good day. Hunter got his dad to cover the shop so he could be home with her. I forgot my lunch?—"

"Again?" I interrupt, smiling into his chest. Graham is always forgetting his lunch. His keys. He can't keep a reusable water bottle to save his life.

"Yup. They brought it up to me, and I gave her a tour of the project in the town square. She's napping now in the nest with Hunter."

"Dang. She left the house and saw your new garden, and I missed it." The pout in my voice annoys me, but Graham only chuckles. The deep vibrations are delicious, sending a tendril of desire straight to my dick.

"She'll have other good days. She's already getting better. And you can see it anytime you want." He squeezes me tightly before he backs up enough that he can look at me.He raises one dark brow, but his face is half covered in shadow by the bill of his ball cap."You okay?"

"Elliot came to see me at work today."

"I know. I drew him a map." It's a statement that he lines with a question in the bond. This part we struggle with. How much should we share or not share about our alpha mate?

"Thanks for the heads-up." I make a disgruntled face, but I'm teasing.

"Why do you think I forgot my lunch?" He smiles, making the crinkles near his eyes wink at me.

"It was good, but it also made me sad. Bittersweet." I shrug. Sometimes, hope and patience lose out to longing.

His brown eyes turn soft, knowing. He moves his hand to cup my neck, tugging me closer with his possessive grip. "I know you, and I know you took care of him. Thank you."

Graham pulls me the rest of the way in, flipping his hat around before slotting his lips over mine. I open for him, tasting his summer rain and the lemonade he always drinks. My hands dig into the fabric of his T-shirt, fingers crawling to get at his skin.

He backs me up against my car, my briefcase that he's wearing jabbing into my side. His hands roam until they find my ass, pulling me closer. I thrust, grinding against him. It's been too long, and I'm already ready to go off. I moan into his mouth and nibble along his jaw and the tender skin of his neck.

"Get a room," Logan calls. "The pictures will be online in the next hour. And I can't be trusted to appropriately comment if they ask me about it."

"Crap," I say.

I was so lost in Graham that I didn't hear Logan pull up or notice the van on the other side of the curb. The paparazzi, I'm sure, have caught wind of Sadie's schedule changes and have come to chase the story. I jump back, panting, in time to see a giant camera lens pulled back into the van's window. The security team dropping off Logan descends on them. There isn't much they can do but force them to stay back, but so far, they've been careful in Knotty Pines.

Still, it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand.

"That picture is probably hot as hell, Doc." Graham kisses my forehead. "If they publish it, it will go viral." He runs from me to do a half jump-lift onto Logan's back.

My mate learned early on not to get too bothered by the paparazzi unless they come too close. Maybe it's from his life before, or maybe that's just Graham. He has a way of always trying to see the good and shrugging off the rest. He refuses to let the bad shit stick.

"Hey, Lo. What exactly would you caption the image?" Graham asks.

"Two hot rods."

"Stop!" Graham chokes out a laugh. "How about hooded desire?"

"You two are ridiculous," I mutter.

Logan waggles his eyebrows. "That's the point."

I tune them out as I follow them, knowing these two goofballs will try to one-up each other until it doesn't even make sense. Sure enough, Graham says something, and the two dissolve into laughter as we stumble up the porch stairs and into the house.

Already, I feel lighter stepping inside. I lock up and head behind them to the nest, eager to check in on both my hurting mates.