Nana kept hold of my hand but let her gaze wander. She looked at the devil goat, the two of them likely conspiring a plan against me. "When you boys were little, you were always the one who stood on your own, Nash. People said it was Aver who held that silver spoon tightest in his mouth, but you've thought you were the world's gift since you uttered your first sound."
All true, but damn. Nothing like a dose of Nana honesty.
"You put up walls, my child. You always kept to yourself separate from the rest of the pack. Wyatt's been by your side since he came out of your mother with you standing on his shoulders. No one had ever seen such a thing before," she said with a smile. "He couldn't wait. Couldn't bear to be parted from you for even a moment. I was thankful you had him then, even if you still stepped away first. Always." Nana let my hand go and looked at me with bright eyes. "Now, the man I see is in the thick of it. Knee-deep. You're there not just for your brother, but your cousins, this town. These ten years have been good for you, boy. It's taught you that you might need help. And that you can help others."
She was right, of course. I'd been a judgmental dick in the past. Now, I tried to be just a dick. But accepting help from my cousins was nothing like accepting anything from the packs. "Why ruin a good thing then, Nana? Maybe this is how we are supposed to live, separate. You still have us, and you get to visit the packs. We'd never ask you to stop."
She gave me a look that said she'd very much like to see us try.
I cleared my throat. "Empires rise and fall. Ask the Romans. If every elder house suddenly sunk into the ground or was wiped out by a volcano, I'd be happy."
"You're gonna need your pack one day, Nash Walker. Both of 'em."
I stood, rubbing her shoulder to try and help lighten the sting of what I had to say. I didn't want to hurt my great-grandmother. If anyone tried to hurt her in front of me, I'd rip their arms off without blinking, but I needed to be clear. "If the moment comes where I am standing between accepting help from the pack or dying, I'll choose death. Every time."
Nana didn't explode or make an outburst. She just sighed, quietly, tiredly. "Hold on a minute, boy. I've got a care box for Riley and the babe." She ducked inside, coming back out with a box I hurried to take from her. "Just some meals for the week and the blanket I finished. Tell Riley I put in that calming cream for him to practice his shifts. He's getting faster every day."
Nana didn't mention what I said. Even she understood a lost cause.
Chapter Four
Phineas
The bell tinkled softly, indicating a new patron to Walkerton's only cafe, Rise and Grind. The selection wasn't quite what I was used to. Spokane was a larger city than most people realized, and I'd had no trouble finding several places to set up my laptop and camp.
I was a walking cliché. A writer in a coffee shop.
But they had decent Wi-Fi and outlets on every wall, and coming here got me out of my apartment and let me be around people without actually being around people. Plus, the cafe was on the way to the gym so I sometimes spotted Zach on his way to or from.
I hadn't seen him today. In fact, I hadn't even thought of Zach. Oh no, my every waking thought, and most of my sleeping ones, had been focused on one rude, gorgeous, arrogant, perfect man. Why couldn't I get him out of my head? I already had a designated piece of unobtainable eye candy to drool over in this town. I didn't need two.
I hadn't seen Nash since the day before, and I was trying to convince myself I should feel thankful for that. I'd been in Walkerton for weeks without spotting him. That was probably the norm. Unless Mrs. Boxer decided to grill up some more sausages.
A dark head caught my eye, hair the exact color of Nash's, but longer. The man walking outside, crossing the street in the other direction, looked so much like Nash, I leaned forward as he stepped onto the sidewalk in front of a bar called The Greasy Stump.
It wasn't Nash, though. Unless he wore a wig or his hair grew like grass overnight.
The bell tinkled again, and my head drifted that direction, seeing two guys. One looked to be in his late twenties, around the same age as me, while the other was younger. The older one held a baby, and there was something about the way he cradled the baby in his arms that made me smile.
I was still smiling when our eyes met, and the man offered me a timid smile in return. He had kind eyes, but I guessed my run-in with Nash had let me forget that I was supposed to be staying away from people. For their benefit.
Bringing my attention back to the screen, I stared at the blinking cursor. My books were never very serious, and they weren't very popular either. I had a small fanbase that happened to love reading about quiet gay men solving mysteries in small towns. It kept me busy and, along with my parent's monthly inheritance money, gave me enough to live on.
"Delia hasn't shown her face since Branson took over," the younger of the two men said. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. My table wasn't even that close to where they stood in line.
"If she knows what's good for her, she'll keep it that way," the other said, but not in an angry tone. More tired than anything.
It was their turn next, and both walked up to the counter. I frowned, insanely curious by what I'd heard, but also angry that I couldn't seem to mind my own business. I supposed this was a sure-fire way to make sure I didn't accidentally make friends. No one liked a snoop.
They ordered and then arranged themselves, the diaper bag, and the baby at the table right next to mine. I learned as the barista called out their names that they were called Riley and Paul. Were they together? They seemed comfortable with each other, but not in a way that made me think there was something sexual going on. Maybe they were brothers. The baby probably belonged to Riley's wife, and he stayed home instead. This was really just my own gender bias being confronted, and I should have been thankful for the moment to learn and grow.
Instead, I was angling my head so that I could hear their conversation better. My eyes landed on a sign hanging on the opposite wall. Feelin' depresso? Have an espresso. I snorted. My weakness had always been puns, and the sudden noise brought my table neighbors' attention.
"Hi there, I noticed you earlier. A new face," the older one, Riley said. His smile was back, and there was no malice in his words. He wasn't angry that I was obviously listening in.
"Sorry, hi. I am new. I didn't mean to bother you guys."
"No, it's okay. I'm new to Walkerton too," Riley said. He gestured between himself and the other guy, Paul. "We both are, actually. I'm Riley, this is Paul, and this is Bran Jr."
Because they traveled here together? I looked at the baby again, this time for hints of his parentage. He had a mess of brown hair, just like Riley's, but his eyes were closed. I couldn't tell if they were blue like Paul's or brown like Riley's. That wouldn't tell me much anyway.
"Figured it out yet?" Riley asked with a twinkle.
My cheeks burned. "I'm that obvious?"
"Nah, you just aren't the first," Riley said.
Paul rose to snag their prepared drinks from the counter. "Or the last," he said over his shoulder. I wasn't sure how old he was. His expressions made him seem young, and he had a slim build that offered no real additional clues.