Page 43 of Untamed Instincts

Moving to the other side of Noah’s shoulders, he worked an exceptionally hard, stubborn knot. The guy had clearly never had a massage before, or it had been a long while.

Quinton was going to give them to his mate on a regular basis. “It must be tough. It’s never good to see someone you care about change before your eyes.”

“You’re speaking from experience.”

“I am,” Quinton replied. “It was a friend I knew. He was human and had Alzheimer’s. This was before the disease had been given the name. It progressed to the point he didn’t even know who I was.”

“Did you stop visiting him?” Noah’s shoulders started to go lax. His head tilted back, and his eyes were still closed.

“I visited him every day until he died. Just because he forgot who I was didn’t mean I forgot who he was. Gus was one of the few humans who knew I was a bear shifter. We were friends for fifty years.” Quinton chuckled softly. “Used to curse me for staying young while he grew old and gray. I think he called me every name under the sun except my given.”

“And you stayed friends with him?”

“Made the worst apple pie, but thought it was the best. Someone had to keep up the pretense to save his pride.” Quinton used the pad of his thumbs to work the tension at the nape of his mate’s neck. “You don’t give up on someone just because they kept catching raw deals in life so they decided to push everyone away. Sometimes you have to read between the lines and understand where their pain is coming from.”

“Where was his coming from?” Noah asked, curiosity thick in his voice.

“Gus’s mom died when he was twelve, followed by his sister six months later. His dad was an alcoholic, who abused him. Then his wife died giving birth to their first child, but the baby didn’t make it, either.”

“No wonder he was ornery.” Noah glanced up at him, sympathy brimming in his green eyes. “Who could blame him?”

“Gus just needed one person in his life he could care about that wouldn’t die on him.” Quinton rested his hands on his mate’s shoulders.

“How did you two meet?” Noah leaned back into him, and Quinton felt as if his world had righted once more.

“I met him in a saloon, falling-down drunk, cursing everyone in the place. I made sure he got home, poured him into bed, and saw the handcrafted crib he’d made for the child that would never spend a single night in it. Sometimes friendships are forged out of pain and loss, hon.” He curled his arms around his mate, resting his chin on the top of his head. “I don’t hate all humans, Noah. Just the ones who deserve it.”

“There was nothing we needed to talk out, Quinton. My anxiety isn’t from you. I let our spat go the moment I walked out of our bedroom.”

Quinton liked how Noah kept claiming more and more of his life. “I might not be the easiest person to get along with. I’ve been single for a very long time.”

Noah chuckled. “You’re my first relationship, so we both have some adjusting to do.”

“You guys ready?” Hyett called from the SUV.

“He just wants to get back to his mate,” Quinton whispered. “Just remember a ton of people have your back.” He kissed the top of Noah’s head, worried about letting his mate be a part of this. No one knew all the variables, and things could go to hell too quickly.

Quinton’s only priority would be Noah, and no one could make him fail at keeping his mate safe.

* * * *

Outside the diner door, Noah briefly closed his eyes and exhaled. He turned his head and looked down the sidewalk at his mate who stood on the other end of the building, just past the windows so Harris couldn’t see him.

Since Harris had yet to meet Quinton, he wouldn’t recognize Noah’s mate, but he didn’t want his best friend seeing them together.

Quinton gave him a nod. Noah knew the guy didn’t want him to do this, that his mate would rather keep him tucked at home and out of harm’s way. But if they couldn’t find Toro, Noah would never know any peace.

Walking into the diner, he glanced around. Customers were seated at various booths and tables, but Quinton had told him no one in the diner would be human.

Only Noah and Harris.

Some of the faces he recognized, and it shocked him to know the residents sitting there weren’t human. The guy who owned the Sugar Well, Tillman, sat at one of the booths. In the next one, Jake, the owner of Fearless Fox, was enjoying his breakfast as he spoke to Fire Chief Dillon Scott, who sat across from him.

Harris was in the last booth at the back of the diner.

His best friend hated sitting by restrooms. Harris always swore he could smell them. Truth was, the guy was picked on in high school, always in the boys’ bathroom at gym time.

Noah hadn’t even known about it because Harris had been too ashamed to tell him. He’d only discovered the truth when he’d walked into the bathroom one day and caught three boys trying to give Harris a swirly.

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