Page 26 of The Selkie Santa

He cursed himself for not doing so the moment he got home from his trip. But the need to find Harper and put things right between them, and then this amazing twenty-four hour whirlwind… even now, his cock perked up at the memory of their beautiful make-out session. The craziness and the speed of it—well, it had knocked the whole Dina baby issue out of the picture, hadn’t it?

But now he needed to fix it.

Grimly, he drank his steaming coffee and stared out at the steel grey sky. It would probably snow again soon, and this time he was going out prepared for the worst.

Half an hour later, jacketed up and wearing an equally thick scarf, Noah hopped off the deck of his boat and made his way toward East Motham.

The building he arrived at looked like a reform school. It was red brick, with grim metal wire fencing around the perimeter. One wall of the building was covered in a mural that was supposed to make it look more upbeat. There was no barbed wire—it wasn’t a prison after all—but it had barracks-like quarters and a quadrangle at the front with a basketball post. To the side of that were some straggly raised garden beds.

Despite him paying good coin for Wyatt to be here, it wasn’t the best-looking place. But still, it was better than prison.

When he walked into reception, there were more brightly painted walls and a Christmas tree in one corner. At the desk, an efficient-looking middle-aged orc with her hair in the traditional braided style looked up at him enquiringly.

“I’m here to see Wyatt Shortwater.”

“It’s not actually visiting hours.”

“It’s urgent. I’m his brother.”

The orc smiled pleasantly enough. “Guess we can make an exception—we try not to be too rigid around rules. He’ll probably still be in the canteen having breakfast.” She stood up and pointed. “That way and round to the left. Just follow the smell of eggs and bacon.”

Noah thanked her and followed his nose.

Wyatt was sitting with a group of other guys in the canteen. He’d lost weight, Noah noticed. He looked fitter, and his hair was shorter. In the two months since he’d been gone, his baby brother’s appearance had definitely improved.

Wyatt was handsome, there was no denying it, the kind of baby-faced good looks that had always gotten him plenty of dates—including Harper, of course—until he started drinking too much and whacked on pounds of blubber. That was an issuefor selkies, unless they kept physically active and minded what they put in their mouths.

Noah advanced and saw his brother laughing and chatting with the other species at his table, and a twist of memory came back to him, of the two of them when he was twelve and Wyatt eight. They were playing together on the rocks past Motham Bay, diving and laughing as they caught fish with their bare hands.

And then he recalled how later, when Dad left, Wyatt had stopped laughing. And how trying to keep his teenage brother away from drugs and alcohol and too much partying… well, yeah, he’d failed, hadn’t he? It had all been too much along with having to get a job to keep his mom afloat.

He’d not had enough time to keep Wyatt out of trouble as well.

Wyatt looked up suddenly. Seeing Noah, his face spread into the same lopsided grin as his brother’s, a Shortwater trait.

“Hey big bro, what are you doing here?”

He scraped back his chair and, to Noah’s surprise, strode over and gave him a hearty slap on the back.

Noah got over his surprise enough to return it.

“We need to talk.”

Wyatt looked at him and huffed a sigh. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

“Can we go somewhere quieter?”

“Sure, the therapy rooms will be free this time of morning.”

After excusing himself from the assembled monsters, Wyatt ambled out of the canteen and down the corridor, past reception and along another long corridor with doors leading off it. Noah followed.

“Art room in there.” He pointed as they passed. “Woodwork in there. And that’s the gym. I work out every day before breakfast, and most evenings.”

“I can tell, you’re looking a lot fitter.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling… good.”

They entered one of the therapy rooms, and Wyatt closed the door and flung himself into an easy chair. On the wall was a big poster with an orc standing atop a rocky outcrop, flexing his biceps. The words, “Be the Best Version of Yourself” were printed across the top.

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