“When I came here, an older wolf taught me too. His name was George, and he taught me all the things I’m teaching you, plus how to heal. It’s not wrong to look up to people, Quinn. And I know you know I’m not perfect.”
Quinn’s mouth curved as he angled a look up at Aaron. He released the thoroughly twisted swing, and Zane shouted with glee as the chains began to unwind.
“So don’t worry about it. I’ll keep doing my best, and you do the same.”
“Okay, Aaron.”
“You good out here for a bit with Zane?”
“Yeah, I don’t mind.” A full smile lit his face. “I’m his Aaron, huh?”
“Sure thing.”
He clapped Quinn’s shoulder once more and headed back to the house. Tried not to limp too much, but the leg had begun pulsing with pain the way it did overnight when the Tylenol wore off. Didn’t want to worry Quinn, but the pup’s attention was focused on Zane, who now asked to be pushed as high in the swing as possible.
When he entered the living room, Ember jumped up from the couch. “You look awful.”
“Just what I always wanted to hear.” From the woman he wanted, the woman who’d minutes before been asking about wolves and their mates.
“Did you tear the stitches?”
“No.” He eased down into the chair, but again the bending of his knee sent fire up his leg. He blew out a hard breath.
“Do we need to go home and let you rest?”
She needed to quit standing over him with protective concern. Quit calling his placehome. He couldn’t help reacting to it, wanting it to mean more to her than it did. “I don’t need to rest.”
“All right.” Ember shifted on her feet. “Is there anything you do need?”
You. He blinked. Glanced at Lucy, whose face held amusement. Oh, crap. But when he looked up at Ember, she still stood poised to help, inquiry in her eyes. So he hadn’t said the word aloud; Lucy had read it on his face.
“There’s not,” he said, and then a spirit of mischief seized him. “But if you have any wolf pack questions Lucy can’t answer, I probably can.”
The woman blushed to the roots of her hair. She sputtered a few seconds, then, “I forgot. I completely forgot.”
He grinned, but Ember wasn’t recovering from the tease. She stood frozen, looking as if she’d committed a sin. “What’s wrong?”
“I might have said—I did say—I don’t—”
“You’re allowed to have questions. For Quinn’s sake, for what his future looks like.”
All he wanted was to hear her say the question wasn’t for Quinn. To hear her say she’d wondered about herself. About him. But her crumpled face smoothed out, and she slowly nodded. “Right. Yeah.”
She retreated to the couch, still eyeing him, now with a restoration of concern. But after a moment, she said, “There’s one more thing I really need to know about. For Quinn.”
He spread his hands in invitation.
“The full moon. What happens to you?”
His next breath was tight. Of course Ember wanted to know about the one thing he couldn’t describe. “We change form.”
“Well, obviously.” Her posture stiffened as the seconds ticked by and he didn’t elaborate. “Tell me what it’s like. Tell me how Quinn deals with it and what I can do.”
Without warning old panic roared in his head, danger bells clanging like a four-alarm wildfire and no real reason for it. His palms began to sweat, his fingers to tingle. He pushed up from the chair and kept the wince of pain from his face. “No. Sorry, I—I’ll be back in a minute. I need a minute.”
He escaped into the yard again and stood just breathing. Sweating and breathing, flexing his fingers until the tingle faded, trying not to listen to Lucy and Ember, unable not to.
“Lucy, what on earth just happened?”
