Page 44 of Rescued

My thoughts drift unbidden to my own past. Funny how pain echoes like that—one person’s story ringing a bell in someone else’s.

I lean against the porch railing, staring out into the darkness, as I remember the day my parents threw me out. I was sixteen, confused and scared, trying to explain something I barely understood myself. My mom’s face had gone pale, her lips thinning like she was holding back bile. My dad… Well, he hadn’t held anything back.

“You’re not my son.”

I’d always had a strained relationship with my folks and knew there was a good chance that they wouldn’t accept me for who I was. But even so, those words still cut, deeply.

But luckily for me, it wasn’t the end of my story.

When I showed up at my grandparents’ house with a hastily packed bag and tears streaming down my face, I was ready for more rejection. I was ready to sleep in the barn or under the stars if it meant staying away from my parents’ contempt.

Instead, Grandma opened the door, took one look at me, and pulled me into the kind of hug that feels like home. “Gabriel Staley, what’s got you lookin’ so torn up, sugar?” Her voice was as warm as the biscuits she used to make every Sunday morning.

I couldn’t answer her, not right away. I just sobbed into her shoulder while she rubbed my back and whispered soft reassurances. Grandpa came up behind her a minute later, his old flannel robe tied haphazardly over his pajamas.

“What’s goin’ on here, boy?” His tone was gruff, but his eyes were sharp, searching my face for answers.

I stammered out the truth, expecting the worst. “I… I told them I’m gay, Grandpa. Mom and Dad. And they—they threw me out.”

For a moment, the only sound was the cicadas buzzing in the summer night. Then Grandpa let out a low, rumbling sigh. “Well, hell. Guess we’re gonna have to get that room upstairs fixed up for you.”

Grandma smacked his arm lightly, though her smile told me she wasn’t upset. “Don’t you worry about a thing, sugar,” she said, guiding me inside. “You’re home now, and that’s all that matters.”

That was the first night I’d felt safe in months.

Over the years, they didn’t just give me a roof over my head—they gave me a foundation. Grandpa taught me how to fix the old tractor, but more importantly, he taught me that being strong didn’t mean shutting people out. Grandma showed me how to make her famous peach cobbler, and she reminded me every day that love is louder than hate.

They didn’t just accept me; they celebrated me. When I graduated high school, Grandma made a banner that readWe’re Proud of You, Gabrielin big, bold letters and hung it across the front porch. Grandpa grumbled about how the neighbors would talk, but even he got misty-eyed when I walked across that stage.

The porch creaks under my weight as I shift, dragging myself back to the present. I’m not sure who I’d be if it weren’t for them. Probably someone a lot angrier, a lot lonelier.

Mika’s voice drifts out from the kitchen, low and warm, and I smile despite the ache in my chest.

It’s not lost on me that our stories could’ve ended the same way. Mika’s pack turned their backs on him, just like my parents did to me. But the difference is, I had someone to turn to. He didn’t.

That’s why I’ll never take this for granted—him, us. I want to be for Mika what my grandparents were for me—a safe place, a reminder that love can survive even the hardest of trials.

When I step back inside, Mika looks up from where he’s sitting. His smile is small but steady, and it wraps around my heart like one of Grandma’s hugs.

“You okay, babe?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Yeah,” I say, crossing the room to pull him into my arms. “I am now.”

I plop myself down next to him on the sofa with a deep sigh. Mika slings his arm over the back and across my shoulders, pulling me closer to him.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at the firelight reflecting off Mika’s face, but I know it’s been long enough to make me feel like a lovesick idiot. His eyes flicker to mine, soft and warm in a way that makes my chest ache.

“What?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that wraps around me like a blanket.

I hesitate, rubbing the back of my neck. “I was just thinking about this…connection we seem to have. It’s not just normal chemistry, is it?”

Mika’s lips twitch, almost a smile. “Not by a long shot.”

“Well, yeah,” I mutter, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. “But I mean…when you talk to me without actually, you know, talkin’. Like earlier, I swore I heard your voice in my head. That’s not normal. Right?”

He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve. “It’s not normal for humans. For mates, though? It’s…natural. A gift.”

“A gift?” I let out a breathy laugh.

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