The heavy scent of the pack’s concern lifted a little when he made it to his feet. He looked around at all of them. Nobody missing except…
“Kelsey?”
She pushed between Nathan and Jeremy as though she’d been shoving both of them, trying to get through, for the last few minutes. Even her lips were pale. Within the hedge of wolves she looked small as a kid.
“What happened?” she said.
He had to explain, but his heart began pounding, and his words dried up. He shook his head. They would know now. All the pack, wolves and mates and even pups, would know what he was. A faded wolf.
“One thing at a time,” Aaron said. “Come inside and let me check you out. Just to be safe.”
For a moment one wolf’s scent flared above the rest, an unmistakable scent of musk and authority, blended with sharp concern. The alpha. Trevor was alert enough now to clock the long look that passed between him and Aaron—a question from Aaron, a delayed nod from Malachi.
Aaron’s hand settled on Trevor’s back. “Come on.”
Trevor shook his head again, but he allowed his friend to nudge him toward the house. Kelsey kept pace at his other side.
Inside, Aaron had Trevor sit sideways in a kitchen chair, the back of the chair to his left. Then he slipped into full medic mode and began pressing Trevor’s ribs, one after another. Trevor did his best not to wince. He might have only one cracked rib, but the bruise was wider than that. At the next rib Aaron touched, Trevor gasped and clenched his teeth. There was the break.
“This is really weird,” Aaron said.
He didn’t have enough breath to ask for details.
“What is?” Kelsey said.
Aaron shook his head. “Trevor’s scent is all wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
Kelsey, stop asking questions. She should wait until they were alone. She should ask Trevor and no one else.
“I mean, there’s no trace of…pain, distress, anything. I should be getting all that, and instead he just smells like a wolf. Like Trevor. I can’t figure it out.”
“Maybe he’s in shock.”
“Then I should smell shock.”
“Trevor?” Kelsey stood over him and set her hand on his head, gentle as she’d ever been. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”
Not exactly. This was a new wrinkle. Maybe he wasn’t as skilled at concealment as he thought. Or maybe he was better at it than he knew. The thought made him shiver. He blinked hard against…tears? He hadn’t cried in nine years. Nine really lonely years.
“Okay,” Aaron said and stood up. “It’s just the one rib, hairline fracture. Hey, Trevor.”
Trevor forced his gaze up. The eyes of his friend held confusion, worry, but no judgment. Well, Aaron didn’t know the story yet.
“I know it hurts to breathe right now, but can you get enough breath if you try?”
He inhaled deeply, and the stabbing seemed to twist now too, but… “Yeah, I can breathe.”
“Okay, good. Anything else? Do you feel lightheaded or nauseous or anything?”
Trevor shook his head.
Aaron sighed, and a faint rumbling growl accompanied it. “All right. It’ll suck until the full moon, but I think you’re okay. If any other symptoms show up, you let me know right away.”
“I will.”
A commitment. He would be honest with Aaron, would let him in as the pack’s resident medic, though he hadn’t let any of them in as friends. He felt so old and heavy and sad. His hearing tuned past the walls of the house, to voices he knew, dear pack family he loved.
