“Do you want to do something relaxing?” The words came out steadier than Sloane felt. “Get your mind off today?”
Jamie froze, jacket half-off. His shoulders went rigid, tension bleeding through his frame. The air between them shifted, crackling with unspoken assumptions.
“Relaxing,” Jamie repeated slowly, turning to face him. “That’s very...specific.”
Sloane caught the edge in his mate’s voice, the defensive wall slamming into place. Realization hit him a second later. Jamie thought he meant sex, thought Sloane was propositioning him in front of his roommate after the worst day imaginable.
“Nothing naughty,” he clarified. “I promise. Just something fun. Get you out of your head for a bit.”
Pink crept up Jamie’s neck, flooding his face with color. “Oh. I thought…never mind.”
“Oh my god, you two are adorable.” Nick grinned, bouncing on his toes. “Jamie, go. You need this. Plus, if you stay here, I’m going to mother-hen you into insanity.”
“I don’t—”
“Go.” Nick nudged Jamie’s shoulder, voice softening. “You’ve been stressed for weeks. You deserve to have fun.”
“But—”
“No buts. Go do something that doesn’t involve cleaning guinea pig cages or hiding from psychos.” Nick turned to Sloane, pointing at him with exaggerated sternness. “You. Bring him back in one piece. If he comes home with so much as a paper cut, I’m hunting you down.”
Sloane nodded solemnly. “One piece. Got it.”
Jamie huffed, but his mouth twitched toward a smile. “You two are ridiculous.”
“You love us,” Nick said cheerfully. “Now go change into something comfortable. And for the love of everything holy, fix your hair. You look like you fought a tornado and lost.”
“My hair is fine!”
“Your hair is a disaster. Go.”
Grumbling, Jamie disappeared down the hallway. A door clicked shut, leaving Sloane alone with Nick, who immediately dropped the playful expression.
“He won’t tell me everything,” Nick said quietly, voice pitched low enough that Jamie wouldn’t hear from the bedroom. “But his ex, William, did something. Something bad enough that Jamie flinches at raised voices now.”
Fury coiled through Sloane’s gut, hot and vicious. He’d suspected, but having it confirmed made his vision pulse red at the edges.
“William,” Sloane said.
“Yeah.” Nick’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know details. Just how jealous William was. Jamie texted me two nights ago about a fight he’d had with William and that they’d broken up.”
The timeline clicked into place. Jamie had been hurt, had gone to Frothy Pine to escape, to forget. Had ended up drunk and vulnerable, passing out in Sloane’s car because fate had decided to intervene.
Or the universe. Or whatever forces governed mates finding each other across impossible odds.
“Jamie’s had a rough time lately. He deserves someone who actually gives a damn.” Nick narrowed his eyes. “I was serious. And by one piece, I mean relatively undamaged. Current damage doesn’t count. If you don’t, I’ll hunt you down. I know people.”
Sloane met his gaze. Normally, he’d snarl at such a threat, but Nick was too tiny and only looking out for his friend. “I won’t let anything happen to him,” he promised, meaning it with every cell in his body.
“Good.” Nick held his gaze for another beat then nodded.
Jamie emerged before Sloane could respond, wearing dark jeans and a soft gray henley that made his eyes look more green than hazel. He’d run fingers through his hair, attempting to tame it into submission with mixed results. The bruise on his temple had darkened further, purple spreading across pale skin.
Beautiful. Sloane’s wolf purred, content just looking at him.
“I’m ready.” Jamie grabbed a jacket from the hook by the door. “Where exactly are we going?” he asked as they descended the stairs. “At least give me a hint.”
“Nope. No hints.”
