1
ZACK
My truck rattled over the ruts in the road as I headed into town.
I was going to the diner for breakfast, not because I didn’t have food at home or that I was a hopeless cook. Nope. But the stillness I craved and which my home provided me swamped me today, and I couldn’t breathe. It emphasized how alone I was.
I needed to see people but not to “people.” Too much chat with the diner regulars would send me fleeing home, grateful for the solitude.
My polar bear was snoozing because unlike me, he had no desire to be around people. But the location of my cabin gave him plenty of opportunity to take his fur, so he wasn’t complaining about a trip into the human world.
The diner hummed with activity, and I took my usual table at the back where I could survey the room and eavesdrop but from where the other customers would only come close if they wanted to interact with me. Despite enjoying my privacy, I did enjoy human gossip, with an added bonus of some shifter tittle-tattle if any shifters were present.
The server, who must have been new, arrived with a pot of coffee. If they’d known me, they wouldn’t have asked if I wanted any but made sure my cup was full during my stay.
I almost said “the usual’ when ordering but spelled out how I wanted my bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns. The server raised a brow but didn’t comment, and when they strode toward the kitchen, the owner Theo took them aside. He was probably telling them I was a grumpy so-and-so and how I liked my eggs.
As I sipped the black coffee, I perused the diner. There was a group of older retired humans who met every morning for coffee and to argue about the state of the world. At the table next to them were what I guessed were tourists. They were checking their phones and arranging a tour to the glacier. I almost said, “Better get in quick before it melts.”
It was a shame the first group weren’t more concerned with the environment than discussing which politician they disliked.
Asher, the new Alpha of my den, passed by the window. He tapped the glass and waved, and I gave him my first genuine smile of the morning. He didn’t come in but got in his truck and drove off. I’d known him as a kid and thought him long dead until he reappeared with a history and also a destiny to fulfill.
That was my den too, but I left years ago, not long after Asher vanished. The old-timers having heated arguments about human politics had no idea how dangerous life was in the upper echelons of a polar bear clan. I was pleased to be done with it, but leaving a den left me without the friends I’d grown with. We still saw one another occasionally, but there was a distance between us.
I took my time finishing my meal and reading a newspaper that someone had left. The outside world traveled at a speed much slower than life in and around this town. And as I got up to pay, my bear roused and reminded me I had to go to the general store.
But as I parked outside, a couple walked past hand in hand. They were grinning, and the alpha leaned over and nuzzled the omega who turned slightly. He was pregnant, and instead of getting out of the car, I gripped the wheel and admired the curve of his belly.
Unlike some shifters when they were in their early twenties, I’d always wanted to find a mate, create a home, and have children. But now in my early forties, I’d given up on that dream.
I haven’t.
You don’t have a choice, I told my beast.
Most of my peers were mated, some with a fated mate and others who’d met and fallen for someone as humans did. Not every shifter had a mate the universe put on this earth just for them. And I’d never seen a difference between fated couples and others, so I wasn’t holding out for that one person. I just wanted to fall in love with an omega who felt the same way about me.
“Zack, can I help you?”
The voice startled me, and I dropped the box of nails. I blinked and glanced around. Somehow I’d gotten from my truck into the store and picked up the nails, but I had no memory of doing it.
But Mr. Sampson, the store owner, was shifter with quick reflexes, and he snatched the box before it hit the floor.
“Are you suffering from cabin fever?” He was bouncing the box on his palm.
“No. I love my life.”
He gave me a look that said, “Liar.” He was always on my case to either move into town and take part in the local bingo nights or to play darts with him and his friends.
“You have to get out more if you want to find a mate, Zack. A mate isn’t going to stumble into your cabin and announce, ‘Here I am, ready to spend my life with you.’”
I sighed because he was right, but I couldn’t see myself tossing darts at a board or sitting in the town hall yelling, “Bingo.”
After paying for the nails, I drove home but ever so slowly. I loved where I lived, but there was no one waiting for me, and the isolation I’d been looking for when I bought the place was now more like a straitjacket.
You need a mate,my bear insisted.
It’s too late, and I’m too old to change my ways and accommodate another person in my life. That was my line, and I repeated it often. But it was a lie.
