I'd been about to call him a stream of mean things, but now that I knew I could retreat back into the safe hole of my apartment, it no longer seemed important. Still, he looked excited to hear what I'd been about to say. "You're a dick," I told him without any real passion.
He frowned, but when I went up the steps to my apartment, helping Mrs. Boxer as I did, he couldn't say anything to stop me. I felt something tug at my chest, urging me to turn back around.
Nash Walker, while pretty to look at, was a blip in my life, and it was time for him to go back to wherever perfect people lived.
Chapter Three
Nash
I dug the rusted spines of Nana's tiller into the frozen ground. She'd asked me over at the perfect time. After the residents all went back into their homes, Phineas included, the chief had dropped by with a new fireman to join our ranks. He'd made a point of mentioning he was new to the area, not to the job.
Chief had wanted to show the new guy the ropes, and he was eager to start, so I got sent away to stay on call while they remained at the station.
I'd been lost for what to do—for exactly thirty seconds—until Nana had called. I didn't know how she knew I had free time, but I'd been at her property since then, tearing through the top layer of frozen dirt to help control the pest population that Nana spent the rest of the year battling.
"Baaa," the demon goat bleated at me from through the fence. It hadn't stepped away from the moment I'd taken up position next to its paddock. Even after the others had grown bored and wandered away, that bulb-eyed bastard never blinked, watching my every move.
"I could eat you," I told it, spinning the tiller around to go back up the next strip of land. Most animals knew well enough to leave me alone. They sensed the beast that lurked beneath my skin. Occasionally, I met the animal, or man, who was immune. Beelzebub here would get along swimmingly with one annoyingly adorable, rocket boxer-wearing nerd.
I growled, shoving the spines into the dirt. I was doing the best sort of work for the mood I was in. As I stomped forward through the mud I was creating, I spotted a tiller spine that had snapped off in the process. My head ducked between my shoulders, and I looked back at Nana, knitting something together on her porch.
She was looking at her project, not me. She couldn't have—
"You break my tools, you fix 'em, Nash Walker."
The woman had eyes on top of her eyes. Of course, she'd say the spirits told her things. As a kid, I'd believed that nonsense, until I'd set traps, done things that should have gotten me in trouble. I'd learned only when Nana was around did she know what I'd been up to. There weren't spirits telling Nana my deeds; she was just an incredibly observant shifter who had picked up all the tricks that kids got up to through her decades of caring for her family.
Just like it wasn't spirits that told her Riley or the baby were blessed and that they'd be responsible for bringing the pack to its former glory. It was only the hopes of an old woman.
"I see—and hear—more than you think, son," Nana said, peering at me from over her yarn.
This was another one of her tricks. Say something all vague and knowing and let the person she's talking to dig their own hole. I wasn't going to fall for it. Not anymore. "Yeah, what do you hear about how to get the pack off our backs? Anything on that?"
She pursed her lips together and looked back at her knitting needles.
Just like I thought.
Feeling extra cocky, I stepped forward into a pile of something squishy that I refused to examine further, and my ankle twisted out from under me. Luckily, I had the tiller handle to grab on to and save some of my pride.
I didn't hear Nana's knitting needles clack together until after I found my footing again. She didn't make you fall.
It would be a whole heck of a lot easier to believe Nana didn't have extra special powers when stuff like this happened. I shook my head and pressed on, noticing the back of my nametag stabbing through my undershirt.
I'd forgotten I'd hastily put it on while Phin had been looking the other direction. I'd wanted him to know my name, who I was. Though now, I felt foolish. He wasn't interested in me. He was interested in Zach No-Brains Ballard. I knew Zach from the gym—the only place anyone knew Zach from. I hadn't known Zach could utter a sentence that didn't include the words protein shake or reps.
It had been painful to watch Phin melt in his presence as well.
I stomped forward, my feet landing so heavily I nearly packed down the dirt I'd just tilled. Why should I care what the nerd did? He wasn't the last man in Walkerton.
You should've shaken his hand faster.
When he'd lifted his arm to me, I'd had flashes of Riley. His touch compelled the person at the other end to tell the truth. According to him, that truth could be anything but was normally the thing a person wanted to keep hidden the most. Riley had no idea why he could do what he did. And luckily for him, Branson was an open book. What you saw was what you got.
But I'd looked at Phin's hand and had panicked. I didn't want my skeletons popping up for a quick chat. Phin wasn't Riley, though. And thank goodness. Branson would kick my asshole into my nostrils if I'd thought the same inappropriate thoughts about Riley as I was with Phin. What about Phin was so amazing anyway? His pasty white skin?
I winced at a sharp pain in my chest. The feeling was so sudden and blinding it was gone before I could grab my shirt.
Phin wasn't pasty—he was creamy. Like a bowl of milk waiting for me to lap up.
Except he was already in someone else's fridge.
I spun around, ready to tear down the next strip of land, but the spines hit pebbles. I looked up, shocked that I'd done the whole space in such a short amount of time. I found Nana on the porch still, this time with one of her huge cookbooks open in front of her. She hardly ever followed the recipes, instead saying they were starting points. Then, when she'd made the meal, she would go back and make corrections.
"Feel better?" she asked without ever looking up.
I did, and I didn't. I no longer felt like smashing Zach's face in. Maybe I'd just knock his teeth out, see how amazing Phin thought he was with nothing but gums for a smile. "What's next?" I asked in a low voice.
"Wood needs chopping and stacking," Nana said, again without ever looking up.
I growled as I grabbed the ax handle. The wood stack was closer to the goat pen, near the gate. I steadied the first piece and swung my ax down, relishing the way the wood split beneath my power. This wasn't like me. I didn't need to worry about other guys being more appealing than me. What was more appealing than over six feet of solid muscle? I glanced over at the goat right as he was taking a crap, staring at me the entire time. I didn't need to take this sort of treatment. I was a highly sought-after guy.
I shoved my hand in my pocket, pulling out my phone. I'd just find someone to spend the evening with, and most of the night. All I needed to do was fuck this feeling out of my system. But, as I scrolled to my contacts, I spotted an icon I wasn't familiar with, a smiling green alien head.
I frowned. Phin forgot to delete that nerdy app he used to talk to his fake friends. Why was I being such a dick about that? I hadn't teased my twin brother Wyatt once when he'd gone through his chat phase after we'd left pack lands. And he'd gone on and on every day, telling me about their lives. I'd listened patiently until it had become too annoying and I'd hit him in the head to start fighting instead. For some reason, when Phin did it…