That wasn’t true. Since moving into the Mayoral Den, I’d watched our first maul work his ass off, advocating for our people and fighting to keep our special exemptions from human law intact, no matter who was in charge of British Columbia’s Legislative Assembly.
But he’d taken the whispers seriously enough to offer us his wrists. And since outsider bears couldn’t form a maul without at least one Ayaska male, we jumped at the chance.
Cal jumped because he wanted a mate and a family, and I jumped because Cal wanted a mate and a family.
I gave up being my own bear years ago. There was only the matching now.
And as long as we stayed the same, I didn’t have to think too hard about the version of me I’d left behind in JTBF’s solitary confinement.
But that maul proposal had been two springs ago. And even my eternally optimistic brother was starting to figure out that Rys cared more about holding on to outsider voters down in the log cabins—and keeping the traditionalist Ayaska elders from opting for a full quad candidate—than actually finding a mate for our maul.
I doubted he’d do anything else until the next election in two years—maybe not even then, unless the polls told him he had to.
Fine by me. Even if most of my conversations with our first maul involved black-ops-adjacent side quests that we never told Cal about.
I was too broken to make a good mate anyway. Spring Fever hadn’t so much as twitched my dead dick.
But I could see Cal coming apart.
I wondered what that felt like. Towantsomething. Tofeelsomething. To have your own desires, instead of disappearing behind the identity you shared with your twin. To not be a psycho hidden inside a body that looked exactly like someone else’s.
“Summer’s almost here,” I said. “Tourist season. Plenty of fish.”
“Sick of hook-ups.” Cal punched the air before going back down for who knew how many more sit-ups. “I’m ready for something real.”
I knew he was.
And I couldn’t shake the feeling that if someone who scent-matched with all of us didn’t show up this summer, our maul wasn’t going to survive another spring.
invite
. . .
lark
From: Holly Winters [email protected]
To: Lark Bird
Re: You’re Invited to Bear Mountain for our Special Joining Ceremony
Hey, Girl, hey!
I’m trying you here because I didn’t hear back from you at the other address. I know things are crazy with the school year winding down, but I was wondering if you’d decided about coming up to Bear Mountain for my Joining Ceremony with Koda, Hawk, and Leif.
I feel terrible that you didn’t get to go to the wedding, and I’d really love to have you there. And I know you’re saving up for IVF treatments, so don’t worry about springing for a hotel. You can stay with us. And you won’t even have to figure out food because Hawk is the best cook in Bear Mountain, and our fridge is always threatening to explode with food.
But if you do come, there are a few things we should talk about first—things I can’t explain over email?—
“Why are you frowning? Is Mr. Good Time trying to hook up with you again, even after stomping all over your heart?”
I looked up from my phone just as my twin, Robin, walked back into the living room of the Burnaby townhouse she and Vikram had scraped together their life savings—and a generous loan from his parents—to buy.
Despite giving birth just a couple of months ago, she was already back in workout gear. Also, back to a size four, with only the faintest pooch to prove she’d ever been pregnant.
I glanced down at my own stomach, barely contained by shapewear a very relatable woman on Instagram swore would flatten my tummy, and I swallowed a fresh surge of jealousy.
Again.
