Page 41 of Eco-Activist's Mountain Men
First stop is the medi-bay, which has become Luna’s room. I knock lightly on the timber door with my knuckles.
“Luna?”
Silence.
I turn the handle and ease it open. The hinges creak, but the room is empty.
“Luna, are you in here?”
Still nothing.
A knot starts to form in my chest. I check the laundry room—empty. One bathroom, then another—no sign. The gym—nothing. Finally, I try Jack’s office. He’s there, hunched over his desk, surrounded by mountains of paperwork, scribbling numbers into endless columns. He barely glances up, and there’s definitely no Luna.
Back in the kitchen—the last place I saw her, the place she stormed out of earlier that morning. At the time, it had almost been funny. Now… not so much.
Southpaw’s curled up in his basket, head on his paws. At first glance, he looks asleep, but his body betrays him—his back leg twitches every so often, and he lets out these quiet, mournful moans. Like he’s caught in some terrible dream. Maybe he’s dreaming of being hunted down by twenty-foot, genetically modified rabbits out for revenge on all wolves.
“Hey, Southpaw,” I say softly. “Where’s Luna?”
One golden eye cracks open. He studies me for a long second, then rises onto his haunches. His chest expands, and then he lets out a long, low, heart-wrenching howl that echoes through the kitchen.
The knot in my chest tightens into something colder.
For the first time, I really start to worry.
If Southpaw’s this unsettled, something’s wrong. Bad wrong.
I need to tell Jack. He’s the one in charge. He’ll know what to do—or at least he’s supposed to.
I head back toward his office, Southpaw padding close behind me, tail drooping, his whole body a picture of lupine misery.
CHAPTER 14
Luna
Goddammit, who the hell does he think he is, talking to me like that?
No one’s allowed to speak to me that way, not even my closest friends—and certainly not Captain Hulk Features himself, Luke Williamson, the chainsaw-wielding, mass tree-murderer of Oregon State. Damn, I am so angry.
All I can think as I storm out of the kitchen is the sheer arrogance of the man. Where the hell does he get off talking to another human being that way? I thought I was supposed to be their guest, for fuck’s sake. What happened to that old-fashioned courtesy and respect for women that’s supposed to exist out in the countryside? Because I sure as hell don’t see it coming from him. Too many muscles, not enough brains. Maybe the steroids shrank his brain along with his dick.
But the truth—my truth—is that the reason I snapped so hard is because I got defensive. And the reason I got defensive? Because deep down I know he’s right.
Which only makes him an even bigger bastard.
I jam Luke’s homemade crutch under my arm and stomp down the steps, out into the yard, then follow the track, climbing into the forest.
The damned phone signal still isn’t back either. Meaning not only do I have to put up with Luke’s bullshit, but I can’t even call Tim to tell him not to come. So what exactly am I supposed to do?
I’m lost. I don’t even know what the sides are anymore, let alone which side I’m supposed to be on. My whole worldview—carefully built, piece by piece—has been kicked apart like a child’s sandcastle.
And it’s all because of that walking mountain, Luke.
I could scream.
Still, it feels good to be out of the lodge again. The last time I ventured out a few days ago, it led to… well, surprises. Big ones. Sex with Toby had been… God, it had been amazing.
So different from Eric. Where Eric was hesitant, awkward, but achingly gentle, Toby was bold, confident, and skillful. Eric gave me tenderness. Toby gave me fire. And both left me wanting more.
