Page 48 of Strawberry Moon

We could. Because we were pack, and we took care of each other. That was what pack did.

33

Ford

Ifelt like shit.

Yes, in my goddamn emotions. But also, in my body.

Everything was hot, my skin shivery like it’d peel back and fur would ripple over me any second. I had a fever, but it wasn’t like heat. There was just this sick, rolling feeling in my gut as I curled up in my bed and hugged my knees to my chest.

The past week, I’d stayed locked up in my room. The farm didn’t need me. I’d been gone for a week, and Ridge, Mr. Mena, and the interns had seen to everything.

Henrik couldn’t meet my eye without scowling.

Ridge or Mr. Mena had taken to leaving a plate outside my door every night before they left. But nobody bothered me. Thank fuck. I wanted to be left alone.

Of course, not every person in the house respected what a man wanted.

That morning, there was a harsh rapping on the door.

“Ford McKesson,” Barbara called from the other side, a mother’s sharp impatience in her voice. “I’m coming in there, so you’d better make yourself decent.”

All I could manage was a groan into my pillow. I turned my face into it as Barbara opened the door and marched in, hands on her waist.

She was a formidable woman with wide hips, graying hair, and a usually pleasant smile. I peeked one eye open. Right then, she was scowling at me.

“A whole week, you’ve been up here sulking, Ford. And damn it, on Lily’s birthday, or the anniversary of the day we lost her, I get it. It’s hard, and we all miss her sometimes. Every so often, that makes for some pretty dark days.”

She shuffled into the room. She was one of the only women I knew who wore an apron most of the time. The one she was wearing had apples embroidered across the bottom. It was a present from Rowan, I thought—a consolement prize the first time he refused to give away his pie-crust recipe.

She wore it often.

My bed dipped under her weight, and her soft, square hand settled my thigh with a pat. “But Ford, you went off on a run with the pack, stayed gone almost a week, then came back and locked yourself up here the way you do when things are real bad. I don’t get it, and I’m gonna need you to explain it to me.”

Ugh, there I was, thirty-two, and I felt every bit a child with his mother there, counting on him to do better. With a sigh, I dropped my cheek on the pillow and stared at her.

“Archer went into heat. On the run. He—it was his first time.”

Barbara blinked, but she didn’t look all that surprised, considering. I scowled at her.

“Well,” she said, “we guessed at least some of that, sweetheart. You came home smelling like peaches and fancy cars. And sex.”

I groaned, turning my head back into the pillow. Every man wanted to lay around and talk to his mother-in-law about sex while his stomach did somersaults, right?

Laughing, she squeezed my knee. “It’s not the end of the world, hon. Hard to keep a secret like that from a bunch of werewolves. Is that what you’re upset about though? You helped Archer with his heat, and... was it bad?”

When I gathered my wits enough to force down my blush and meet her eye again, her head was cocked to the side.

What could I say to that?No, Mrs. Hill, fucking Archer was the best goddamn thing I’d done in years. Maybe ever.

Absolutely not.

I sighed, flopping over, keeping my arms wrapped around my middle.

“No. No, it was great. He was...” Sweet and soft and open. Archer was mine, called me alpha, wanted me close.

Then, I’d left him behind in a parking lot, because I was scared and my head was all scrambled, and now, I was as close to my wolf taking over as I’d ever been.

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