He had to find his wolf restraint before he started howling in the middle of Trevor’s workshop. Aaron lifted his head from his hands. Trevor’s eyes held a depth of distress, but his scent remained clear.
“Thanks,” Aaron said. “I know it’s rough no matter how it happens, but I—I should make distance now, mitigate it maybe. Learn from what happened to you.”
Trevor gripped Aaron’s shoulders hard, gave him a shake. “No, no way. You hold onto her, Aaron. That’s how you learn from me, okay?”
Aaron shook his head. Holding on didn’t matter. Trevor had just proved it.
“Aaron.” Trevor pulled him in by the shoulders, spoke close to his face. “Hold onto her. Swear to me.”
His friend was near tears. He grasped Trevor’s wrists and spoke quietly to him, tried to be kind despite the hammer of his own heart, the ache of confirmation that he and Ember were guaranteed nothing by fate, nothing at all.
“I’m sorry, Trevor. I’m sorry Kelsey left you.”
“She didn’t.”
Now his heart seemed to stall altogether. “What?”
“Kelsey would never have left me, Aaron, not in a million years. It was me. I broke us up, I broke…everything.”
“But why?”
Trevor let go of him, tucked his chin and moved to the other side of the table. With a steady hand, he picked up the sandpaper and resumed his work. “No.”
“Trevor—”
“I told you it’s private.”
“But—”
Trevor slammed a fist down on the table. “Stop. Asking.”
Of course. A minute ago he’d been treating his friend with care. He had to get back to that, but what Trevor had just told him… “Who knows about this?”
“Just you.” Trevor glared. “Keep it that way, or Iwillfight you, man. I will.”
Wolves didn’t fight on impulse the way some humans did. They didn’t threaten idly either. Trevor’s scent remained level and unaffected, but the blaze in his eyes left Aaron without a doubt: he would follow through on this. He was that kind of wolf, all passion all the time, and if he came at Aaron he’d be coming with the intent to break bones.
It wasn’t okay, the pack believing wrongly of Kelsey. Aaron itched to find out why Trevor had allowed it, but more than that, why he had broken the bond with his mate. They’d been so young, not yet performed the ceremony, but… He scrubbed a hand down his face. He couldn’t ask. He had to respect Trevor’s wish.
“Okay, Trevor.”
“If that’s what you really came to find out…” Trevor let out a quiet sigh. “The lore’s not wrong, man. At least I don’t believe it is. A mate doesn’t leave her wolf. Unless he makes her.”
But the lore also said a wolf never left his mate. Aaron’s head ached. He couldn’t solve this. Did Trevor and Kelsey not count because the bond had never been formalized? Was that why Trevor could stand to be parted from her?
Trevor walked back around the table and set a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. He spoke quietly, the fire banked in his blue eyes. “Aaron, you’ve got to trust me on this. You’ve got to hold onto your mate.”
“You really think… You know it was her? You know you won’t find someone else?”
The hand on Aaron’s shoulder convulsed its grip, bruising Aaron instantly and nearly cracking his collarbone. Trevor never noticed. “No one else for me. Not if I live to be a hundred and ten.”
Aaron nodded, and Trevor let him go.
He stayed awhile, pulled over a rough-finished kitchen chair and sat to rest his throbbing leg. Trevor’s scent and body language indicated no more distress, yet some instinct or maybe simply the length of their friendship told Aaron all was not okay right now with his friend. He should never have asked for an unearthing of history, yet he hadn’t known how much pain still lived deep within Trevor’s wolf heart.
Dusk fell while he watched Trevor finish sanding, and they talked about easier things. After a while Trevor brought out his carving tools and set to work adorning the table legs with intricate vines and flowers.
“Wow, man,” Aaron said. “Watching you work hasn’t gotten less impressive.”
