Page 13 of Daddy's Mail Order Mate

“Hey,” his voice manages to finally cut through my senses.

I glance over at him. His expression is touched with just enough worry that I can feel myself getting tense. And right away, I feel myself locking up to make sure I don’t look upset.

“Eyes on the road, big guy. We’re going for lunch, not looking to have an impromptu monster truck rally.”

I don’t need him pitying me. Lucas had learned how to better approach things since he was a kid, but he still doesn’t fullygetit. He’s always been a pretty competent shifter, fit in wherever he went, and has never (to my knowledge anyway) found his fated mate. He’d never been rejected by the one person who was supposed to always be there for him, and he’d never been shunned and treated as a pariah by shifter society.

But at least he is trying. More credit than I can give most shifters—which was all the more reason why I steer clear of them.

The truck goes quiet again. I can hear him squirming in his skin, probably restless and worried that he’d gotten me upset. And with everything I’ve been going through lately, I don’t have the energy to banter and let him know I’m fine.

Because, if I’m being honest with myself, I’m not. I’d say I’m pretty fucking far from fine.

And maybe that’s why it hooks in my head. I can maybe find someone who I don’t have to pretend I was human with and not be treated like something to be pitied or ridiculed.

It lingers in the back of my mind all through lunch. Even the drive back too. And then still once my brother was long gone and it’s just me in the quiet of my dingy little studio apartment.

I’ve been staring at my phone for almost an hour now. He’d sent me an email with a download link for the app, ‘just in case.’ Obviously, an app for shifters isn’t going to be something you are going to find listed on an official digital store for humans to casually come across.

What do I have to lose?

My whole life is crumbling apart here. No job, and soon nowhere to live. Making one last run at living as a shifter seems like a trigger I might as well pull. Soon enough I’ll be loading up my life into my car. Minimally, finding someone decent to crash with for a few weeks doesn’t seem like the worst idea in the world. And if nothing else, I can tell Lucas I tried and be done having the same conversations about it over and over.

I finally open the registration link.

“Might as well.”

Chapter 3 - Gwen

One luggage case, a duffel bag, and three boxes.

I stare at the contents of my old sedan’s trunk, counting them off again.

It was more than I usually had to my name as a kid when we moved. The pack I’d grown up in, the Cherrygrove Pack, had been pretty migratory and no-frills. That old school borderline survivalist mentality meant we only really kept the essentials, as they were the only things worth hauling around.

And hopefully, I won't have to brush the dust off that old mentality.

My phone goes off with the distinctive ping of the mail order app in my back pocket. There’s a little clench in my throat as I reach for it and take a look at the latest message.

Lonebriar: Are you sure you don’t need anything else? I can send more to cover any unexpected costs.

I huff, the corner of my mouth playing up.

I’d been talking with my match for about a week now. He was…

My weight cocks to one hip as I thumb out a quick reply.

Redhart: I’m sure. You already sent plenty. More than enough to cover gas, meals, and then some.

Lonebriar: If your car’s at risk of giving out on you, I can always send someone to come get you.

Redhart: I’ll be fine. Like I said before, I’m meeting up with my brother on the way and he can always grab me if it gives up the ghost.

Though I would really appreciate it if the universe would let me at least have my car for a bit longer. It’d be nice to not be potentially stuck out in the woods with a relative stranger, and be forced to depend solely on my brother if I needed to get out all of a sudden.

Not that I was strictly worried that Lonebriar was the sort of person I’d need to escape from. If he was, we wouldn’t have gotten this far. But I knew better than to ever be complacent. The rug canalwaysget pulled out from under you.

Lonebriar: If you’re sure. Please let me know if you need any help.

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