25. Slade

25

SLADE

A t Sciff, time was this eternal, heavy thing that dragged on and on. In Quin’s little house, it flies away at the speed of light. One moment Chime is twirling in her dress, and the next, she’s brushing her teeth for bed. She disappears into her bedroom for the night, and I’m left outside while Quin sings her a song. Apparently, raccoon shifter children sleep in their animal form, so it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to come inside.

Unless Chime knew who I was, of course. Quin said she would someday, but how far away will that day be? I’ve already lost so much time with her. I feel greedy for more of her twirls and rants about traumatized goats. And seeing her as a raccoon? My heart aches for that almost as much as I ache to claim Quin as my own.

When Quin steps outside of Chime’s room, I’m still waiting in the hallway. I know I should have gone back to the living room and sat on the couch or started washing the dishes, but my control is slipping. The moment he closes the door, I cup his jaw and kiss him with a greediness I know I don’t deserve. I’m not allowed to need anything from Quin. I just can’t help it. And it isn’t just sex I need, it’s the way my soul comes alive every time I get a taste of his sweet sunshine.

I force myself to break away from the kiss. “I’m sorry.”

He wraps his arms around my waist and holds me close. I succumb to temptation and close my arms around him, too. My inner alpha surges up, too powerful for me to control. He wants to bond with Quin so badly. The ache for a connection with him is agony.

“Let’s go outside,” Quin says.

I reluctantly release him. He’s right. We can’t do this just outside Chime’s door.

He takes my hand and guides me out onto the front deck. The summer night is warm and surprisingly quiet. Normally, the cicadas are loud in Texas. But instead of their constant chirping, I hear the tinkling of wind chimes.

Quin sits on a wooden bench swing at the end of the porch and pats the space next to him. I glance at the brackets holding the swing up, not sure if they’ll bear my weight. But I sense this is important to Quin, so I sit down anyway. The swing groans, but it holds.

He leans his head against my upper arm. He’s too short to lean against my shoulder. I slide my arm across his back and pull him close, until he’s leaning against my chest instead. The gentle pressure of his cheek against my pec is wonderful.

“You don’t seem angry with me,” he says.

“Should I be?”

“Yes. I should have told you about Chime in that letter I wrote. I’m so sorry, Slade.”

This isn’t how I thought this conversation would go. I’m the one who owes Quin an apology. And yet, he invited me over to dinner and let me read with Chime. He let me kiss him.

“I should have written you back,” I say.

Quin pushes the ground with his feet, until the swing starts rocking back and forth. “You’re right. You should have.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him.

He reaches across my body and holds me tight. “If you had known about Chime, you would have. We both messed up.”

His behavior tonight is very different than yesterday. All the confusion and stress are gone.

“You don’t seem afraid of me anymore,” I say.

“Should I be?” he asks, repeating my words back to me. His voice is soft and calm—far too calm for a man who recently thought I was so dangerous that he didn’t tell me about my own child for six years.

There has to be a reason for his change of heart.

“What did my brother say to you?”

Quin looks up at me. “Enough for me to know that I’m safe with you.”

My stomach drops. “What does that mean? What did he say, Quin?”

He pauses for what feels like eternity. “Your brother told me Chad Avery was killed with his own knife—a knife he would have used on someone else if he’d lived. It sounds like he got what he deserved.” Quin pushes himself up to whisper in my ear. “Jake also told me that you’d do anything for him, even go to jail for something you didn’t do.”

Cold fear surges through me. He knows. How could Jake tell Quin after I endured six years at Sciff to keep him safe? He promised me he would take that secret to the grave. He didn’t even tell his own mate.

“Jake only said that to get you to trust me,” I lie. “He didn’t… he would never…”

“Slade, it’s okay. Your secret is safe with me.” His voice is so sweet and reassuring. I want to believe him. But Quin is far too trusting. What if he lets it slip to his moms or his brothers? Jake is pregnant and happy. He has a perfect life with Stew.

The truth of what happened could destroy everything.

“It was just lies,” I insist. “I’m a killer, Quin. I stabbed Chad Avery in cold blood.”

Quin bites his lip. He doesn’t believe me.

“I should go,” I say, standing up. The loss of Quin’s warmth against me is almost painful.

“Slade, please don’t leave. I understand why you did what you did. We don’t have to talk about it if you aren’t ready. I just want to be with you. I’ve missed you.” His voice breaks, and his lips tremble. I should comfort him—make love to him. I know deep in my gut that leaving him right now is wrong.

But my priority has always been Jake. It has to be.

Quin has to believe that I killed Chad Avery, otherwise Jake could end up in trouble.

“My brother is good at making up stories,” I say. “All addicts are. Don’t let him fool you. I stabbed Chad Avery with my own knife, and then I waited a full ten minutes for him to bleed out before I called an ambulance. That’s what kind of man I am. If you still want me, then you have my number.”

With that, I walk off, hoping that my lie is more convincing than whatever truth Jake told him.

I’ve known for a long time that I’m not the kind of alpha who gets to keep someone like Quin. The plan was always to put Jake first in the hope that he could have a good life. Now that he does, I’m not taking any chances.

Jake and I clearly need to talk.