He wavered for an instant, thinking he should go back now and try to pick up the pieces of the mess he’d just made. But something in him resisted. He didn’t know if it was anger, or grief, or just bone-deep weariness. But whatever it was, it told him clearly—not yet. Not until he could face Christian without letting everything fall apart again.
He continued on along the edge of the cliff, squinting against the low sun in the clear fall sky.
CHRISTIAN
Christian stood with his back to the door until he could no longer hear even the faint suggestion of the car engine. And then he stepped away from the door and crossed the room to pick up thebag of laundry he’d dropped at some point. Because he had to dosomething.He didn’t just fold when life got tough, no matter how much life wanted him to.
So Dave had finally had enough of him? Fine. It happened. People always left. He always gave them a reason. But Dave… Dave hadtried, longer and harder than anyone else. And Christian had still fucked it up.
As that fucking social worker had told him, he didn’t make it easy for people to like him, let alone love him. Compromise, she’d suggested. Yeah, right. Compromise meant being what other people wanted and losing the only thing he had—himself. He’d lit out of that group home before he’d had to see her again.Compromisethat,you sanctimonious asshole.
Laundry bag in hand, he headed out to find somewhere to wash his damn clothes. And then stopped dead in the doorway as he realized—Dave had taken the fucking car. How the fuck was he meant to find a laundromat without it, let alone get to the fucking fight tonight? And why the fuckingfuckwas there no one in this goddamn parking lot spoiling for a fight right now?
Lost, he turned back to the room. Totheirroom. He stood in the doorway, clutching the bag like it could anchor him. But it didn’t. Nothing did.
As he saw one of Dave’s fugly shirts thrown across the seat of the chair, it hit him. It slammed into his gut until he was gasping, lungs spasming as he tried to breathe through the grief that seized him. Dave was gone.
No more tea-drinking to complain about, no more slow, lazy Sunday mornings together in their bed. Because there was no “them” anymore.
And unlike every other time, Christian didn’t think he could recover from this. He’d taken hits before, a lifetime’s worth. But this one felt fatal, somehow.
He folded into the corner and stared at the place where Dave had been, but nothing in the room looked right anymore. Just emptiness, where the center had been ripped from his world.
DAVE
Dave reached the path down the cliff sooner than he expected. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed where he was. The track was barely more than a line scuffed into rock, and as he started down it, his mind was still caught in an endless loop.
He was certain of two things. He loved Christian, and he wasn’t going to live here. If Christian really couldn’t bear being part of the Elk Ridge pack anymore—and he still didn’t know where the hell that had come from—they could move somewhere else. But it wouldn’t be here. It would be—
His foot skidded on loose gravel.
He pitched forward, heart in his throat.Don’t hit your head.Don’t hit your head. He tried to throw his hands up, to twist, catch himself, but he was falling.
His shoulder clipped rock, jolting him sideways, and then the ground was hitting him again and again. Dust and rock spun around him in a blur.
And then, finally, everything went quiet and dark.
Chapter Twenty-one
CHRISTIAN
So he’d growled at the housekeeper. But she’d barely knocked before barging in, and he wasn’t in the mood for surprises. She’d backed out even faster with Christian up in her face, snarling at her.
He should feel bad about that, but right now he was too busy packing. He didn’t know where he was going. What he did know was he’d lost hours somehow, and that he had to get out before Dave came back for his stuff. He didn’t want to see the end of everything in Dave’s face, because he’d be soDaveabout it, try to make it kind and not about Christian when they both knew the truth.
He ignored the familiar mess of hideous shirts, faded, ripped jeans, and the Ziploc bag of teabags on the counter. Only Dave. The only person in the world who would travel with fucking fruit-tea teabags. It took every bit of strength Christian had to look away from them and close off the howling void deep inside him.He was breathing hard as he shouldered his bag, but he was okay. He wasalwaysokay.
He hesitated as he reached for the door handle. Maybe, if Barton wanted him, he could go straight to him now. Could take him up on that offer of a place to live and meals on the table. The thing that had been shrilling somewhere deep inside, a sort of panic he hadn’t felt in years, eased slightly at the thought.
He dug in his pocket for his phone, andfuckit, the first thing he did after making that call would be to change his wallpaper. The photo had been supposed to be just him and Dave, but Diablo had muscled in from behind, shoving his big black head between them, determined not to be left out. And it was still Christian’s favorite picture in the world—Dave helpless with laughter, his eyes as bright and happy as the summer sky.
He found the entry he’d made last night and hit call.
“Taylor?” Barton’s voice wasn’t exactly welcoming.
“Yeah, my plans have changed a bit,” he said, and didn’t know why saying it out loud made him swallow. “I thought I could move in with the pack today, get started with those fights you’re planning.”
“Why not?” There was some warmth in the alpha’s voice now.
