Page 29 of Real

Steppe and the others always misunderstood the reason I held them for so long. It wasn’t out of mercy. It was because I felt so damn tired. I didn’t have what it took to keep going the way they did. Like the dead, I needed to rest.

I don’t think that makes me kind. I don’t even think it makes me soft. It simply means that I’d rather rest with a cooling corpse than get up and move on. Isn’t that what I’ve done the last twelve years? The other guys have built exciting careers for themselves. Timber is running a successful porn studio in Rixton. Steppe and Ken run the sanctuary. Manny is off on dangerous missions to save red wolf shifter kids all over the world. And what have I done except continue to care for the sick like we never left the pits at all?

I feel something waking up inside me after all these years. I don’t want to lie down anymore. I don’t want to watch Timber and Steppe move on with their lives while I wallow all by myself. And I don’t want to watch another man die because I couldn’t figure out how to save him.

No matter what it takes, Buddy is going to make it out of this alive.

13

Buddy

I remember the first time I realized Candlewick was having sex with Dorian. We were already friends by then. In the early days, when I found him naked in Dorian’s bed, I believed him when he said they were having “sleepovers.” I thought they were friends. I didn’t know enough about sex or how it sounded to understand the noises they made together every night.

It was television that helped me piece it together. We’d watch a show where the characters were in love, and when the camera panned away, the characters were making the same sounds as Dorian and Candlewick—sounds Dorian never made with me. He couldn’t even get aroused. The smell of my slick was too repulsive to him.

There was one time he tried to push himself inside me anyway, but I was shaped wrong, and he still couldn’t get hard. He was so angry.

By the time I figured out Candlewick and Dorian were fucking, I hated Dorian. I shouldn’t have been jealous. Unfortunately, I couldn’t convince my heart of that. Every night when the headboard banged against the wall or Dorian groaned, I couldn’t help but wish it was me in that bed with Dorian instead.

I never told Candlewick that. It wasn’t his fault Dorian wanted him instead of me. And it certainly wasn’t his fault I was worthless. None of it was his fault. But there were nights I wanted to hate him for it anyway.

A familiar pang of jealousy churns in my throat as I wait for Timothy to return. I have no right to feel this way. Timothy made no promises to me, and Candlewick can’t help how attractive he is.

I see Timothy walking through the dark parking lot long before he sees me. He’s moving differently than he did before. His shoulders are rolled back, and his feet are moving faster. He seems determined, aggressive even. But he still looks like a teddy bear with his thick arms and round belly. And his eyes are still kind. Candlewick was probably just as taken with him as I am. He probably flirted with Timothy easily like it was nothing. Timothy probably said the sweetest things to Candlewick.

They’re both wonderful. They deserve to be happy.

Timothy catches my eye just before he reaches the car and smiles at me. My stomach flips. I pull my knees to my chest and remind myself that this situation will be less awkward if I’m not clingy or needy.

He opens the car door and climbs inside. “Hey, are you okay?”

I bob my head up and down.

He leans over and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath. His lips are so gentle. I want to capture this moment in a bottle and save it forever.

“I know you wanted to go back to Dorian to save Candlewick, but there might be an alternative,” he says.

I open my eyes. “What?”

Timothy tells me about a place called the Den of Dreams. Apparently, someone there might be able to help me become real.

Would it really be possible for me to become real? Even when I was running away with Candlewick, I never imagined something like that.

He takes my hand in his and laces our fingers together. “It’s risky. The Den of Dreams would be the perfect place for someone to take you. If you don’t want to go—”

“I want to go.” There’s no question. I’d be willing to take any kind of risk to become flesh and blood.

Timothy leans in closer, staring at me like his conversation with Candlewick didn’t change a thing between us. Maybe Candlewick could smell my slick on Timothy and didn’t flirt with him. Or Maybe Candlewick doesn’t want another alpha after Dorian.

I wouldn’t blame him for that.

“Are you going to go with me?” I ask Timothy.

“Of course. I just don’t know if I can keep you safe.” The concern in his voice fills my stomach with butterflies. “Unless…” He releases my hand and pulls out his phone to type something on the screen. It gives me a chance to stare at the freckles dusted along his forearms and at the edges of the collar of his T-shirt. If I became real, would he let me take off his shirt to see how far those freckles go? Could we be together, even if it was just for a week or two?

Maybe the transformation would change the shape of my body, and sex with me could be satisfying for him.

Would I be able to get a job? Rent a room that was mine? Buy a bed I’d be allowed to sleep in at night?

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