Jesse changed course. “You again?” he said, reaching out to rub behind the horse’s ears. The black shoved his head into Jesse’s chest like he’d been starved of care for years.
“You’re just an attention hog,” Jesse said, and kept rubbing.
“You got that right.”
Jesse glanced sideways to find Dave approaching, hands in his pockets and a smile tugging at his mouth. And Jesse kept staring, because Dave’s shirt…
“You wearin’ armadillos on roller skates?” he asked. “Pinkones?”
Dave glanced down at his shirt, which—hell, Jesse reckoned he deserved a medal for bravery, getting that close to the neon pink, fluorescent yellow and radioactive green creatures. “Guess so,” he said, like it was nothing out of the ordinary, before nodding toward the horse. “Christian’s spoiled him rotten. You pet him once, and he thinks it’s a lifelong contract.”
Jesse snorted and scratched a little harder, earning another heavy lean. “Guess he’s not wrong.”
Dave stretched out a hand to the chestnut who had come over to the fence at the sight of him. “You’re staying, then?” he asked casually.
Jesse hesitated. “For a time,” he said, and was surprised that didn’t spin him into a panic. Probably because he could walk away any time. Unlike Dave, who as good as signed his life away when he joined the pack.
After a pause, Jesse asked, “You like it? Being in the pack?”
Dave gave him a long, thoughtful look. “Yeah,” he said, finally. “I do. You know someone’s always got your back. You’re never really alone.”
Jesse chewed on that. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of never being alone. He didn’t know how to fit in anywhere. Even if he’d wanted to.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked after a while.
Dave nodded. “Sure.”
“You and Christian—you’re mates, right?”
“Yeah.”
Jesse kept his gaze on the horse’s nose. “What’s that even mean, exactly? You always together, always in each other’s space? Like, I dunno. Like you don’t get to breathe on your own anymore?”
Dave shook his head slightly. “It’s not like that. Not for us, anyway. Being mates means knowing I can be myself with him. It’s choosing each other, every damn day.”
But Dave hadn’t really answered Jesse’s question. “What if you need space?”
“I take it. And he gives it. But I know he’s still there when I’m ready to go back.”
Jesse nodded slowly. That didn’t sound like losing yourself. That sounded like trust. He kept stroking the horse’s cheek, idly wondering how he’d gotten horse spit on his shirt.
Dave sent the chestnut on its way and stood back from the rail. Jesse stayed where he was, petting the black’s cheek in slow, absent strokes. He didn’t look at Dave as he spoke again. “You’re healing up.”
“Yeah,” Dave said.
“I’m glad,” Jesse said, and he meant it. He wasn’t going to apologize because he hadn’t done anything wrong—and apologizing meant putting himself in a weak position, which was a dangerous place to be—but Dave seemed like he didn’t mean anyone any harm.
“Have you explored out there yet?” Dave asked.
Jesse pulled a face. “Promised Matt I’d stick close to the house for now,” he said.
Dave nodded, like he was so used to obeying Matt’s orders he didn’t see anything strange in anyone else doing it. A reminderof the bad things about being in a pack, the things Dave either couldn’t see anymore or never had seen.
“Another time, then,” Dave said, and turned away.
“Dave,” Jesse said all of a sudden to his retreating back.
He turned around and waited while Jesse tried to find the right words.
