Walker and Janelle exchanged a look. “Lock our doors tonight?” he suggested.
“Definitely,” Janelle agreed.
From the hallway, Mal called out, “By the way, I’ll be telling Grammy about this.”
“Shit,” they said together. They both ran for the door at the same time.
Chapter 14
Fernando lay beside Walker, head on his chest, as he listened to the alpha’s steady heartbeat. They were in a guest room at Mateo’s in-laws, Barry and Jamie. There had been a loud argument amongst the Wilsons over where Walker would stay, and it had been decided that he would stay one night at each house so everyone would have time with him.
He’ll be officially adopted into the Wilson family by Christmas, Fernando thought with a grin. Morning light spilled through the curtains, filtering into a warm, honeyed glow that settled across the quilted bedspread. The bed itself was tall and sturdy, with a carved wooden headboard polished to a gentle shine. The walls were pale sage, with framed watercolor landscapes hanging slightly crooked in a charming, unbothered way. A braided rug softened the hardwood floor.
Jamie had even picked fresh flowers and put them in a small vase on the nightstand. The scent of lavender wafted through the room, tickling Fernando’s nose.
Walker yawned as he woke, tightening his arms around Fernando. “I haven’t slept this well in years.”
“I know what you mean.” Fernando pressed his face against Walker’s chest. He hadn’t realized how heavy the weight on his shoulders had been. Even in North Carolina, he worried constantly that people would find out about his uncle and treat him differently. Everyone in Hobson Hills already knew, but they showed compassion for Mateo and his siblings rather than judgment. Mostly. There were a few who side-eyed them, but they were only a few.
“Our lives would be so different if we lived here,” Walker said suddenly, surprising Fernando.
“Different isn’t bad,” Fernando said gently.
“For you it’s not,” Walker said, chuckling. “I wish I were as brave as you.” He thought for a moment. “I also wish I had your family. You’re so close to each other and talk about everything. You argue loud and hug loud. I love it.” He exhaled. “I would miss Pug and the guys, but your family would make up for it.”
Fernando snorted. “They’re your family now, too. Hell, Barry told you to call him Dado, like his kids do. I think you’re basically a Wilson now.”
A long pause settled between them. Walker looked up at the ceiling. “When Barry asked about kids tonight—”
“He always asks. Even if you’re not his kid, he asks. Nosy fucking Wilsons. To be fair, if my parents were alive, they would be asking about kids, too. To them, family is everything.”
“Family is everything,” Walker repeated, speaking slowly to taste the words. “I just… I don’t even know what that means right now.”
Fernando leaned up and kissed his chin. “That right there is why it’s important. We get to decide what family means now. Not our parents or the Wilsons. Us. We’ve talked about kids and about fostering. When you’re ready, we’ll make it happen.”
He swallowed. “What if I don’t know how?”
“You do,” Fernando said. “You show up. You stay. You do your best.”
He let out a quiet laugh. “That’s it? That’s the big secret?”
“That’s the big secret.”
“Grammy said something similar. Something about a garden and life. I don’t know.” He ran his hand along Fernando’s back. “I’m scared I’ll mess it up.”
“You will,” Fernando said. “I will too. But we’ll mess it up together.”
The tension in Walker’s shoulders eased, just a little, and Fernando kissed his chin again. “Now, get up. The Bigfoot festival starts today, and Mateo will want you to go on a hunt with him again tonight.”
“Big day.” Walker grinned. “Come with me?”
“To the festival? Yes. To the hunt? Absolutely not.”
A few hours later,they stood together in the crowd, the August heat warming them. A banner stretched over Main Street, its corners fluttering lazily in the breeze. “Welcome to the 1st Annual Bigfoot Festival” was written in large bold letters.
Fernando fanned himself with a folded brochure. “I can’t believe so many people came to Hobson Hills for this.”
Walker grinned, tugging the sides of his brand-new knitted Sasquatch hat lower over his brow. The thick yarn was too warm for summer, but he didn’t want to take it off. Ernie Wilson had given it to him. “You say that now, but they’re about to start the Authentic Bigfoot Call Competition. That’s culture.”
