“If you need space, just tell me,” Colby said with difficulty. He didn’twantTristan to go off and leave him, especially when he thought the pack were looking at him with renewed suspicion after his failure to help with information, but if it was what Tristan needed, it was what he’d get.
“Maybe you could check on the goats?” Tristan said, offering a faint smile. “Chaos probably misses you. And I—I think I just need a minute.”
Colby forced a smile. He watched Tristan walk toward the house, his usual easy, springy stride looking weighed down, somehow. If not for Cale’s pack, Tristan would be bounding off happily to college, to the shifts at the diner that he so enjoyed, and probably creating mischief with those goats of his. Instead, he’d been hurt, scared, and he was now stuck with a mate who was trying and mostly failing to put the pieces of himself back together.
No. Colby shook his head, trying to force those thoughts away. Tristan had held him last night, even when there’d been nothing sexual between them. Everything he said and did made it clear—Colby was who he wanted.
But what about him? Was he doing this—trying, stumbling, holding on—just because Tristan needed it? Or was it because he wanted it, too, for himself? He didn’t know. But maybe, running out there today, he’d started to remember how freedom might feel.
Feeling more settled, he turned on his heel to go looking for those damn goats. They could be anywhere.
He’d barely rounded the barn when he almost ran into Karl. The other man was crouched beside a bucket, filling it with water from the spigot, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, movements smooth and unhurried.
Colby stopped short. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Wasn’t trying to be seen,” Karl said, without looking up.
Colby hesitated. “I’m just looking for the goats.”
“They’re in the east paddock. Probably found a weak spot in the fencing. Chaos has opinions about boundaries.”
That startled a laugh out of him, and Karl finally glanced up. “You’re still here, on the ranch.”
Colby froze, unable to read his expression. “Shouldn’t I be?”
“Didn’t say that. But Christian’s attitude can be intimidating when you’re on the wrong side of it.”
Colby looked down at the dirt, not knowing what to say.
Karl stood and picked up the full bucket. “I’m doing perimeter checks at dusk. There’s a spot if you want it. Matt’s fine with it, as long as you’re with me.”
Colby blinked. Of all the things he thought Karl might have said, that was last on the list. “You want me to patrol with you? You trust me?”
“I think you want to prove yourself. That’s enough.”
“But… the others…”
“They’re not me.” Karl turned away, and Colby could only just hear his next words. “Besides, I know what it looks like when someone’s trying to outrun ghosts.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Back porch. Seven.” And he walked away.
Colby watched him go, heart thudding, not sure whether he’d passed a test or just been handed another.
Chapter Thirty-one
TRISTAN
Tristan drifted back toward the house, hands in his pockets, boots kicking gently at the dirt. The light was gold now, stretching long shadows across the yard. It made everything look still and peaceful, but his thoughts were racing.
Ever since he’d returned from his abduction, it had been one thing after another. He hadn’t had time—or maybe he hadn’tlethimself have time—to stop and think. Not really. Not about what had happened to him there, or about the seismic shift of meeting his mate. And definitely not about how he hadn’t been able simply to slide back into his place in the pack.
It hit him now, how much had shifted. He used to see them as a constant—his pack, his center of gravity, the ones who wouldn’t let him down because they never had. And now? When he thought about them, when he spent time with them, they were somehow more human. Morereal. Bryce could be wrong. Jesse wasn’t invincible, despite his saltiness. Christian could be an asshole.Even Matt—who’d been at the heart of everything Tristan trusted—could make a decision that hurt.
Weirdly, that didn’t make Tristan love them any less. But it did make him see them differently. Not as perfect models of something to aspire to, but as people. Fallible. Wounded. Trying, like everyone else, to do the best they could.
It made him realize something else, too. Maybe the reason he hadn’t been going back to the diner or going to school wasn’t just because Colby needed him. Maybe it was becausehehad needed the illusion that nothing had changed, and by staying where it was safe, he could keep pretending.
But things had changed, and there was no going back. He had to learn how to live in this new reality, where even the safest places could hold danger, and where death could come suddenly, leaving too much undone. Too much unsaid. Like all the things he hadn’t said to Bryce.
