Slow Shift by Nazarea Andrews (best ereader for pdf .TXT) 📗

to explain why the hell he’s been gone for three weeks with almost no explanation.

“Sometimes,” Chase says, careful to stay honest, even as he’s picking his words, “I get scared, and it’s nothing you or Lucas can protect me from. It’s not about you—” Tyler’s eyebrows arch when he stumbles over the lie and Chase backtracks, “It’s not your problem to fix. Not everything in my life can be your problem to fix, Ty.”

“You’re Pack,” Tyler says, his voice stubborn, like that means he can fix all of Chase’s problems and Chase is being especially annoying by not letting him.

“I am. But I’m also me and some things, you gotta let me deal with.”

“Not when you disappear. You can’t—” He huffs and growls, standing in a rush.

“I know. I won’t do that again. I’ll tell you if I need space. Ok? I won’t just disappear.”

Tyler stares at him, his eyes haunted and still hurt, and Chase inches closer tentatively, like he isn’t sure he’s welcome.

Because he isn’t sure.

“I’m not going away, Ty. I’m not gonna leave you like she did.”

Tyler makes a noise then, a low whine in the back of his throat, and jerks Chase forward into his arms. Chase sighs, because after weeks of feeling lost and confused and conflicted—this feels like the surest thing he knows.

~*~

The school year ends in a rush of exams and pool parties, and finals for Tyler. With the house finished, Chase finds himself almost lost when he goes to the house in the woods, sitting idle while Tyler works through his summer classes and Lucas sits, eyes blank.

He reads his way through Tyler’s small library and spends a few days falling down research holes online, but there’s no denying he’s bored out of his mind and there’s only so much training Tyler will do with him before he worries that Chase will hurt himself.

“Here,” Tyler says, a few weeks into the summer, while Chase fidgets, anxious and impatient. He passes a laptop, thin and sleek, to Chase and says, “Before the accident, my father kept our records. He knew our lore. He forged our alliances with other packs and clans. I was—I was supposed to do that for Chelsea. He was training me.”

Chase stares at it, the computer that holds the Reid history, then at Tyler.

“You’re Pack,” Tyler says, “Time to learn what that means.”

~*~

Training is difficult.

He doesn’t dream of Tyler often, not after that first time, but he does wake up  achingly hard sometimes, scruff and warm green eyes a phantom vision, Tyler’s ghostly touch heavy against his hips.

He knows what it feels like—to be held down and have Tyler panting against his neck, and his dreams can bring it back with startling clarity.

When Chase is training, he’s careful to not get too close, to keep from being caught when they run through the woods, to never be pressed against the wolf.

He thinks Tyler knows, because he stays away—is just as careful to give Chase space, even when they’re training, is always quick to release him when Chase is pinned during their runs.

He’s careful to never touch Chase.

And as much as he knows it’s for the best, as much as he knows it’s necessary—Chase hates it.

~*~

The first time it happens, it isn’t intentional.

Ben falls asleep at Chase’s house after a long night playing Skyrim. Maybe it’s because he’s bored, but Chase crawls out of bed in the morning and showers, emerging with a smile and a bounce in his step.

Ben blinks at him blearily and asks, “Where the hell are you goin’, man?”

Chase falters, which is, in retrospect, how he ends up with Ben trailing him into the woods, traipsing loud and clumsy through the forest.

It’s almost funny, but just as annoying—after being trained by Tyler on how to move through the forest, how to hunt like a wolf, Chase finds Ben’s blundering almost ridiculous and embarrassing, because he knows Tyler can hear him coming.

“Holy shit,” Ben gasps, when he spills into the clearing. Chase smiles smugly, because the house looks amazing and he knows it. Not many people wander out here—something he knows is intentional—so not many people see the house he and Tyler built.

Tyler, who is standing on the porch, watching with a raised eyebrow.

Ben freezes, whispering harshly, “Who’s that?”

“That’s Tyler,” Chase says, and even he can hear the fondness in his voice.

“Tyler? The Tyler you’ve been hanging out with for years?”

“I only know one Tyler, dude,” Chase huffs, and bounds up the steps.

Tyler arches an eyebrow. “Chase. You brought a friend.”

You brought a stranger to the pack house. Chase hears the unspoken words and he squirms.

“Uh. Yeah, he—”

“Ben,” Tyler says stiffly to the boy standing behind Tyler, “There’s pancakes in the kitchen.”

Ben shoots Chase a wide-eyed stare and Chase nods encouragingly. When the door shuts behind him, Chase deflates.

“I’m sorry. I know—I should have asked,” Chase says in a rush, “I couldn’t get rid of him.”

“I don’t mind you bringing people here,” Tyler says, voice tight, “You bring your dad once a month, don’t you? And I’ve never complained.”

“But you aren’t happy.”

He huffs and Chase shifts. “You—you smell of Drake. He smells like Drake. And you didn’t exactly warn me.”

Chase grins, and even though he knows Ben will be watching, that he’ll have to explain this—he steps forward, voluntarily slotting into Tyler’s space, wrapping around him in a tight hug as Tyler rubs his cheek against Chase’s hair. “Anti-social wolf,” he teases, and Tyler growls, low enough that it rumbles in his chest, as his claws prick teasingly against Chase’s back.

He yelps and squirms closer, and Tyler finally releases him with a smug huff.

“Smell better?” Chase asks, flushing.

Tyler stares at him, quietly satisfied. “Yes. You smell like me.”

~*~

Ben doesn’t say anything for a long time, on the walk home. They go early, before dinner and the sunset, pulled away by the lure of Brielle’s texts and Chase’s unwillingness to let Ben wander through the woods alone.

But eventually, he says cautiously, “It's weird.”

“What?” Chase says, even though he knows.

“The