On his way back, he passed a clothing store and ducked in, hoping to find a shirt that didn’t need a warning label. He wouldn’t usually waste money like that, but that envelope had held a thousand bucks, so he could afford it. Or so he thought, till he saw the prices. A hundred and twenty-five bucks for ashirt? For fuck’s sake, it wasn’t spun from unicorn hair.
He was leaving, a lot faster than he’d gone in, when something in the jewelry display cabinet caught his eye. He backtracked, not sure what it was he’d seen, but as soon as he looked at the pieces laid out, he knew. It was a bangle in silver that had been worked to look like braided ropes. The ropes held a small piece of turquoise that was almost exactly the color of Dave’s eyes.
“Hey,” he said to the woman behind the counter, her lashes dark and precise around eyes that widened when she saw the battered state of his face. Or maybe it was the shirt. God knew, it horrifiedhim.“Can I get a look at that?”
She passed it over, but the whole time looked like she thought he was about to whip out a gun and rob the place. Hadn’t she realized he’d gone through airport fucking security?
He ignored her as he turned the bracelet around in his hands. He wasn’t one for jewelry, but Dave sometimes wore a bracelet aswell as his necklace. And something about it looked like it had been designed for Dave.
The feeling that had made him say that wild shit about honeymoons came back to nag at him. Something important had happened to them here. They should have something tangible to remind them.
“I’ll take it,” he said as he passed it back to her, and tried not to whimper at the price she quoted.
He got his money out while she wrapped it, and yeah, okay, that wasn’t exactly going to convince her that he was a legitimate customer, handing over used bills from a bundle in a dirty envelope. As he counted them out on the glass top of the counter, something else caught his eye.
“Hold it,” he said. “Show me that instead.”
Her strained smile wavered, maybe because she could see the cuts and bruising on his knuckles where he was pointing. Or maybe because she thought she was losing the sale. He didn’t care either way because the bracelet had seemed perfect, but this—this was meant to be.
Chapter Thirty-two
DAVE
It was dark when Dave pulled up outside the familiar ranch house. As he turned the engine off, the final part of him relaxed. They were home. Safe. Together.
His window was down—Christian’s jeep had no AC—and the air smelled like hay and sagebrush, and something he couldn’t identify but which was like nowhere else on earth. The porch light was out, yet he could picture Matt’s boots by the door and Bryce’s old hoodie hanging on a hook inside.
He turned to find Christian leaning against the window. Still fast asleep, he was snoring gently, though Dave couldn’t tell whether that was due to his swollen nose or the awkward angle of his head. Tenderness swamped him, and he wanted to take Christian into his arms and hold him and never let anyone hurt him ever again. Except Christian would hate that. He tapped his thigh instead.
“We’re here,” he said, and Christian snorted and woke up.
Dave wanted to head straight for their bunkhouse so he could check Christian over from head to foot and be sure that the damage done to him would heal. He’d also been craving to hold Christian since his words after the fight, words that had caused a strange, wonderful ache in Dave’s heart. But before they could do anything else, they needed to check in with Matt. He sighed slightly and got out of the car.
The house was in darkness, except for the kitchen. When Dave walked into the brightly lit room, he found Jason, Riley, Tristan, and Colby sitting around the kitchen table. Pizza boxes were on the table, and they each had a bottle of beer.
There was an instant of surprised silence before Jason sucked in a sharp breath.
“Damn, Christian,” he said, alarm in his voice. “What happened? You look like you went twelve rounds with a grizzly.”
He wasn’t wrong, but Christian obviously had more important things on his mind, ignoring the question and crossing his arms as he stared at the four of them.
“For God’s sake,” he said. “I’ve been dreaming of proper food for days, and you’re eating takeout?”
“Nice shirt, by the way,” Tristan said. “Dave finally rope you into his fashion crimes?”
Christian shot him a look that could peel paint. “Shut up. It’s not that bad.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “There’s a kindergartner somewhere missing their artwork.”
Christian huffed, then addressed Jason. “Takeout pizza? What the hell, Jason?”
“Jason deserves a day off,” Riley said. Although his tone was light, his chin was up, ready to take on Christian if that was what was needed to defend his mate.
“While the cat’s away,” Dave said, moving forward and settling in next to Jason.
He’d meant to try and smooth over any ragged edges that Christian’s attitude had caused, and only realized what he’d said once the words were out.
“Not that I’m calling Matt a cat,” he added quickly, because their alpha really wouldn’t take that well. Wolves and cat-shifters were like oil and water—far happier if they didn’t try mixing. “What I mean is, while the alpha’s away, the pups will play. Where is everyone, anyway?”
