Page 8 of Leave Me
“No, Ri.” King turned and met my eyes. “I’m going to be around you as much as possible over the next few weeks.”
My heart soared with hope until I remembered what King had planned. He was leaving Blue Lake, and I would be off to college in a few months.
At least I had his kiss to rememberhim by.
“Are you getting ready?” Mom’s voice broke into my daydreaming, cutting off the memory like a cold shower to my senses. “The funeral is soon.”
Did I want to attend the funeral of the man who had treated my half-shifter mom and his own son with no respect? No, but if King might be there…
Standing to grab my suit, I took off my glasses and called out through the door, “Yeah, Mom.”
While I didn’t want to attend Alpha King’s funeral, I wasn’t going to miss a chance to see my first crush in person.
Chapter five
Fowler
Dinner with my gramps and sister could have been awkward, despite the familiarity of sitting with them at the smaller wooden table tucked into the kitchen. I thought they’d want to talk about Dad and the funeral arrangements, but Channing kept a running commentary on all the people in town and the upcoming reunion as if we weren’t burying our father in the morning. She told me the casserole I was enjoying was one of many dropped off by neighbors, while the two of them had tea, but soon enough, I heard the rumble of multiple bikes approaching.
“That’ll be the boys,” Gramps commented, his hearing as strong as mine. “I’ll say goodnight and have fun.”
“Night, Gramps.” Leaning over, I gave him a one-armed hug before he wheeled himself around the corner to the first-floor bedroom. When I tried to wash my plate, Channing saw through my stalling tactic.
“Shoo, go catch up,” Channing gestured with her elbow, since her hands were wet and soapy. “You can help with the dishes after we have a houseful tomorrow.”
“I see. You want the easy task, so I have to do the harder task.”
Channing threw her head back with an exaggerated villain laugh. “Muah-ha-ha. You saw through my devious plan.”
Rolling my eyes, I couldn’t hold back my grin at her silliness. “I missed the hell out of you.”
“Shut up,” my sister turned back to washing, and I heard a distinct sniffle.
Sensing three shifters approaching after their engines cut off, I left my sister and walked to the front door. Before they could knock, I opened the door to find my friends racing up the steps to greet me. Enrique Bravo reached me first and wrapped me in a bear hug.
“First,” Ricky called out, bragging that he got to me first. His tanned arms and bleached hair shone in the porch light. Ricky was a beta wolf, but he was also an MMA fighter, so he had serious muscles. His woodsy scent was light, but familiar, mixed with the sweat of working in the sun.
His best friend, Aurelius Kazen, who only ever went by Rel, grinned over Ricky’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around both of us. “First idiot.”
My friends started roughhousing and let me go. Rel was bigger than I remembered, his dark arms toned from working as a firefighter. Even as an omega wolf, he’d always been bigger than me as kids, but I had filled out more and finally matched him in size. I let them tussle and looked out to find the last of our pack I expected to show.
Leaning on his bike, Rowen “Red” Finley gave me a soft smile and nod in hello. Red wasn’t a wolf shifter like the rest of us, and was a year behind us in school, but he was adopted by my dad’s second. Uncle Clark raised Red, nicknamed for his hair color, as his own. As an octopus shifter, he often kept to himself, but I was glad to see him.
“That your work?” Red called out, tilting his head toward my bike.
“Yeah,” I replied, making my way down to the parking area while Ricky and Rel followed behind me. “Took me months, but she’s all mine.”
“Nice,” Ricky commented, walking to the saddlebags of a Victory Highball. It was a bold, stripped-down cruiser, with a cobra pipe for a deep, aggressive sound, matte black with cream details. It suited him. He pulled a six-pack of cheap beer from the black leather saddlebag. “I came with libations.”
Rel muscled past him to a black and silver Triumph Bonneville, unsnapping his own saddlebag to reveal a handle of whiskey and four plastic cups. “And I brought the good stuff.”
“Guess we’d better start the fire.” I grinned, leading them up the path opposite my house.
We made our way along the well-worn path, and I was glad to find the pit was clear and even had chairs waiting. Rel served us all healthy pours while Red and I got the fire started with Ricky’s lighter.
“You still smoke?” I asked, eyeing his toned body. My friends liked weed and cigars in high school.
“Nah, can’t smoke and win fights.” Ricky shrugged and sank into a blue Adirondack chair to watch Red poke at the fire. “Edibles occasionally, though.”
