His full lips twitched. “It’s seven forty-five, Reid.”
“Bollocks.” I sighed. “Well, you can blame Tesco.”
Bryce stepped back to let me past, shrugging his slender shoulders. “I mean, I blame Tesco for many things. Price hikes, killing off the high street, encouraging conformity…Never blamed them for making me an hour late home from work.”
I knew he was only teasing. All of my friends knew I couldn’t help it. Didn’t stop them giving me shit for it sometimes. I gave as good as I got though. “Maybe it would if you actually had a job.”
Bryce clamped a hand over his chest dramatically. “Wounded. Dying on the ground.”
Mac appeared around the corner, immediately takingthe bags out of my hands. He raised one of his thick blond eyebrows. “Are ye picking on Bryce again?”
“He started it,” I said, rising on my toes to peck Mac’s cheek in thanks. “Bloody freeloading earl.”
“Technically I’m the heir to an earl,” Bryce reminded us for the thousandth time. “Daddy dearest has to kick the bucket before I take the helm. Let’s hope the fucker takes his time.”
The three of us shuddered in unison. Bryce’s dad could give mine a run for his money. Old school didn’t begin to cover it when it came to the Earl of Kilmarnock. He was determined to see Bryce married off to someone of‘good breeding.’A person who could add to the already ridiculous sum of money Bryce’s family sat on.
Someone who was female. Of course. Homosexuality wasn’t something that existed in the earl’s mind.
Cunt.
His behaviour proved that shifters and humans weren’t all that different. Obsessed with keeping lines ‘pure’ and marrying ‘for the good of the family.’ Substitute family with clan and it all amounted to the same thing: a load of bullshit that I wouldn’t touch with a barge pole.
Bryce felt the same way. It was what had drawn us to each other. We’d met at a club after several too many test-tube shots. He’d been half slumped on a stool, yammering at a bored looking bartender. I’d watched him for half a minute before deciding that, if he was that upset, he at least deserved an audience who’d be interested.
I’d taken the stool beside him and demanded to hear his story. When Bryce was done, I’d known three things.
One—his dad was a cunt.
Two—Bryce deserved a better life than the one that’d been planned for him before he was even born.
Three—he was going to be my best friend.
Four years later, I’d added many things to the list, but those initial three had never changed. Bryce and I might give each other shit, but that didn’t mean anyone else was allowed to do the same.
Well, no one other than Mac and Cole.
The final person in our little group was sprawled on my sofa, my PS3 controller in his hands. He grunted at my arrival, too focused onDemon Huntersto offer a better greeting.
“Aim for the wings,” I threw over my shoulder as I followed Mac through to the kitchen. Bryce dropped onto the floor in front of the sofa, settling in to watch Cole game. “Right at the apex.”
Cole’s only acknowledgement was another grunt, but the sounds from the TV told me he’d taken my advice. I didn’t take his lack of words personally. I’d known Cole long enough to know that sometimes he got overstimulated—especially if he’d had a bad day at work. His job as a carpenter meant he usually got to work alone. Some jobs though, such as the one he’d been on for the past two weeks, required him to work onsite with a bunch of other contractors. The combination of noise alongside having to be ‘on’ all the time took its toll on Cole.
It had taken years before he was able to unmask around us. He and Mac were friends from childhood, and even Mac hadn’t seen this side of Cole until I’d come along.
Growing up, I hadn’t even realised that what I was doingwasmasking. It wasn’t even about my ADHD so much as my humanity. I’d tried to hide who and what I was for so long. The instant I’d stepped outside of the clan’s borders, I’d decided no more. No more hiding. No more forcing myself to be someone I wasn’t.
I was me. Just me. And anyone who couldn’t handle that could jog the fuck on.
Don’t get me wrong, fuck loads of people had chosen that option, including all my employers before Chester.
But Bryce, Mac, and Cole? They’d stayed. None of us were perfect, but we didn’t hold it against each other. We embraced it.
The way true friends should.
Mac was already unloading things into my cupboards. “Reid, why is the pasta in with the tins?”
I hopped up onto the counter, swinging my legs. “I made spaghetti Bolognese.”
