Tristan frowned, sorting through those words, and then, like ice water in his veins, he realized what Colby meant.
“You mean, they’d have punished you?” He softened his wording at the last minute. If Colbydidn’tmean he’d have been killed, he didn’t want to be melodramatic.
Colby gave a swift nod. “It’s no excuse,” he said. And for a moment, Tristan almostwished for his earlier indifference to return, because it hurt to hear this roughened voice and quiet, flooding guilt.
“Why did you join Cale’s pack?” Tristan asked. “You obviously hated it. I don’t understand why you joined, or why you didn’t leave.”
He felt painfully green under the look Colby turned on him. It wasn’t contempt for not understanding but something like gladness that hedidn’tunderstand.
Colby rubbed his hand over his face. “It happened,” he said with a gusty sigh. “That’s the only thing that matters.”
And just like that, Tristan was certain of Colby again. Certain there was a story that would explain everything, if he could just get Colby to tell him. Because Colbywasn’tlike the others. Nicohad enjoyed hurting Tristan and had relished his fear. Colby was nothing like that.
“Have the coffee before it gets cold, and I’ll grab us something to sit on,” Tristan said.
He wanted to spend time with Colby. He wanted toknowhim. He already knew the most important things, his kindness and courage, but he didn’t understand him. Not yet.
But that would come, Tristan just knew it. He grinned at Karl as he passed him in the barn, unable to stop the sudden happiness he felt from blossoming on his face.
Chapter Nine
COLBY
Tristan had left the stall door open, practically begging Colby to run. Away from Urban and the death he had planned for Colby, and away from the questions that kept tumbling from Tristan’s lips. He didn’t seem to understand what answering them would do to Colby. The guilt, the helplessness, the goddamnshameof it all.
Maybe Tristan had left the door open on purpose, repayment for the night Colby had opened the door of the brig and told him to run.
Or maybe he was just that naïve, that trusting, that it never occurred to him to close it. Maybe if Colby ran, Tristan would be the one to pay for it.
Fuck. He couldn’t risk that. And despite everything, Colby knew he didn’t have it in him to run again. He had nowhere to go. And when he got to nowhere, he’d have nothing. Not even himself,not anymore. He should just accept his fate. There was no future worth wanting.
He’d accepted that earlier, but then Tristan had walked in, all light and warmth, and some foolish, flickering part of Colby had responded, hadwanted.When Tristan had held him, it had been to reassure himself Colby was there, not to restrain or control him. And Colby hadn’t wanted to let him go.
He picked up the coffee that Tristan had left for him. Couldn’t face the muffins, but he was parched and freezing, and he wrapped his fingers around the mug, seeking its warmth. It wasn’t that cold—the middle of the day, in fall—but he felt chilled to the bone.
Once his fingers warmed slightly, he took a sip. God, freshly ground. It had been so long since he had something like this. Another life. Another Colby, when he’d had the future ahead of him and no idea what it held.
He was draining the last drops when Tristan reappeared, lugging a bale of straw.
“Hey,” he said, his irresistible smile lighting his face. “D’you want another coffee? More muffins? I mean, I kind of dropped a couple on the way over here—don’t worry, I put them somewhere the goats can’t get them because I don’t wantthatvet bill. Point is, I didn’t put them back on the plate. But it means you should have more if you want them.”
He’dlovemore of that coffee, but if he said yes, that would mean Tristan leaving him. “I’m good, thanks,” he said, and watched Tristan settle the bale down beside the wall and sit on it. He jerked his head in invitation, and Colby sat beside him. They were close together, but it didn’t feel unsafe. Not Tristan.
“So how long were you part of Cale’s pack?” Tristan asked, as if he were picking up a conversation they’d left off halfway through.
Colby’s heart gave a painful jolt. He’d hoped that Tristan would accept that there was nothing more to say about thatsubject, and move on. But the same determination that had fueled Tristan’s resistance and hope when he was locked in the brig was evident in those eyes, curious and searching as he looked at Colby.
He didn’t want to talk about this. Not to anyone, and least of all to Tristan, who should never be touched by the dirt and despair of that place. But what choice did he have? He was at this pack’s mercy, and though he didn’t believe Tristan would force him into anything, he’d leave if Colby refused to answer again. Walk away, taking his life and brightness with him, leaving Colby cold and alone.
“I was there three years, give or take.” His voice was hoarse.
Tristan seemed to pick up on the fact this was a difficult conversation, because he leaned closer to Colby and when he spoke, his voice was soft. “Why did you join?”
The coffee that had tasted so good was threatening to come back up, and he swallowed, hard. Tristan was nothing like Nico, except in one way—he wouldn’t let Colby evade anything. And maybe this was right. Maybe it was time he took responsibility for his actions. And his inaction.
“I met Nico just after I got out.” His discharge from the Army—honorable, but forced—had hit hard. At the time, he’d blamed anti-shifter bias, like the four-year enlistment cap shifters were still stuck with. But later, he’d realized the truth—hewas the problem. Nico had taught him that. He’d just been slow to understand.
“I didn’t really have a plan yet.” After losing everything he’d loved, everything he’d wanted, and knowing how disappointed his parents would be when they learned he hadn’t reupped. “I was kind of at a loose end, trying to figure it out, and I ran into Nico in a bar one night.”
