Page 21 of Hunter Moon

“I’m cold, and tired, and going home.”

“Brook!” Aspen shouted after us, but on two bare, human feet, he wasn’t going far. “I’m fine!”

I scoffed, and when I responded, I didn’t turn to look back at him. Didn’t even raise my voice, because a werewolf would hear me. And I didn’t even think he cared.

“We’ll see what Linden and Birch think about that. There’s got to be someone in this town whose opinion matters to you.”

And clearly, that person wasn’t me, so it was time to leave it to the alphas to sort out their own bullshit.

11

Aspen

It was like a gut shot, hearing that Brook didn’t think I cared about his opinion.

Birch was my best friend, practically a brother, and Linwasmy brother, but if the three of them all asked something of me, Brook’s request would always come first. I wanted to ask how he didn’t know that, but the real question was how hewouldknow it. I’d left him behind, so why would he think I cared about his opinion?

This was all on me. I was the asshole who’d left.

We’d been fine, the two of us. We’d been together, and happy, and I had walked away. I could keep justifying it to myself all I wanted—my valid reasons didn’t change the fact that I had walked away.

I’d written him a thousand letters over the years, starting the first the night after I walked out. I’d done it so often that sometimes at random, “Dear Brook,” popped into my head, and then I’d just start rambling in my head about what I wanted to say to him.

I’d replayed the whole situation in my mind wondering what would have happened if only I’d talked to him first. It had ranged from the ridiculously optimistic notion that he’d have come with me and we’d be living in San Diego and married by now, to the more morose—and much more realistic—scene where he explained to me that while he cared about me, his family needed him, and frankly, it was fucking selfish of me to ask him to leave. Usually, the latter was followed by some self-congratulatory bullshit where I assured myself I’d done the right thing.

But I hadn’t, and there was no way to keep telling myself I had.

Alexis gave me an apologetic shrug and hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the angry, retreating Brook. “I’d better go with him. But, um, Aspen? He’s not wrong. Even if you think you’re doing the right thing, or the nice thing, or whatever, living out in the woods on four legs doesn’t sound like the healthy way to deal with this.”

Then he waved and jogged off after Brook.

I wanted to do the same, but really, my instincts weren’t just saying to follow him. They were screaming for me to shift, and run, and follow Brook, and never ever let him out of my sight again.

As important as protecting Brook was, if I started stalking him like a fucking creep, then I’d be the one he needed protection from.

But mate, my wolf whined, and the pull to follow felt like someone had wrapped a rope around my neck and was pulling on it. Like if I didn’t follow Brook, I couldn’t breathe. Like I’d die without him.

Without a conscious thought for shifting, my jaw was filled with too many teeth, too sharp, and my hands were sprouting claws I hadn’t summoned. Like I really was some feral beast who belonged in the woods.

I breathed as deep as I could, locked my knees into place, and watched the two of them walk away from me.

Then, like the fucking drama queen I was, I threw myself on top of my bedroll and hugged Brook’s jacket against my chest, breathing in the perfect scent of him. There was the ever-present undertone of cedar, because his father had made him a wardrobe out of it when he was a kid, and he still kept his clothes in it. The usual deeply ingrained smell of the garage, and of the sweat of a hard day’s work—though usually it was at the garage, and apparently today it was hiking. And then that undertone that wasn’t something he’d done or touched or lived with—the scent of Brook himself. Ozone and musk and just like those daisies, something soft and green, like spring itself had a scent.

I could have just sat there and breathed it in all day.

Except that a few minutes of doing that seemed to clear a fog in my brain, and I realized that fuck my life, he was completely right. I was sitting in the woods, naked, eating bunnies for breakfast, when my own hometown was sitting there within walking distance. I was forcing myself to be alone when I didn’t have to, and it was fucking hard to do it.

Was I punishing myself? Was that the whole purpose of my staying out in the woods? Like I was some kind of martyr?

Well I had a newsflash for me. I wasn’t the wronged party, not even if I decided to wrong myself. And punishing myself by sitting in the woods alone wasn’t going to make me less of an asshole, or help Brook or my pack in any way. If anything, it made me a bigger asshole, and kept me from properly defending them if they needed me.

Plus chasing my tail following human campers who were long gone all morning probably wasn’t all that healthy.

Last time I’d seen either of the Hagen sisters who ran the B and B, Greta had given me a lecture about abandoning my pack, and how Lin was a better alpha than me and I’d better acknowledge it. Even my unequivocal agreement hadn’t seemed to take the wind out of her sails too much.

On the other hand, there was a motel just before the county highway that led into town. It was about the same distance from Grovetown proper as I was already, but I’d be right next to my car, so I could drive into town instead of walking. And sleep in a bed, and buy breakfast at the Grille instead of hunting it down.

It wasn’t like Linden was going to forgive me faster if I punished myself.

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