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

dragged away, on Tyler’s couch. He’s quieter than Tyler has ever known him to be, withdrawn even after John wakes up and the doctors say he’s going to make a full recovery.

And then he comes to Tyler, his face pale and grim and determined. “I’m going to take him to Washington,” he says, “He won’t rest here, and he has to rest, Ty. He has to or he won’t get better.”

His gaze is flinty and far older than it has any right to be, this boy who Tyler has watched growing up—he shouldn’t look this old.

“I have to take him away from here, Tyler,” he says, implacable and somehow still pleading, and Tyler—he nods. Chase lets out a huge sigh of relief as he throws himself into Tyler’s arms.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispers as Tyler hugs him and buries his nose in the curve of Chase’s throat, drinking down the scent of him, of Pack, of home.

“You’ll come back,” Tyler says and he tries to ignore the way his voice shakes, the fear that eases into it.

Chase hears it though, and his grip tightens. “I will,” he says fiercely.

~*~

It’s different, this time, being here.

He’s surrounded by noise and cousins and his Granny’s caustic care, her sharp gaze. She shoos them away and gives Chase and John a room on the ground floor, near the back of the house where it’s quiet and restful.

But he isn’t the lonely grieving boy he was that first summer anymore, or the angry isolated one of The Summer We Don’t Speak Of.

He spends most of his time with John, but he doesn’t push his cousins away when they reach for him. He runs, but he lets them join him, laughs with them when he’s training. He drags John out when he’s healthy enough for it, sits him on the big porch swing his mother loved so much and reads in the sun, the babies piled around him like sleepy puppies.

“He’s better now,” Granny says and John nods at her. “I am glad. You didn’t lose him. And he’s happy. It is rare that you can have both.”

~*~

It’s different, and good, but he misses them.

They text constantly, a steady stream of meaningless chatter, of updates on John, and notes from Tyler’s classes—he’ll graduate in December and he’s nervous, and Chase is so damn proud it almost makes him giddy.

In June, Chase tells him that John is healthy enough to oversee a project he’s working on and promises a surprise when he comes home.

It helps. It’s not as lonely as he was the last time he was here.

Still, it’s not the same as sharing space with Lucas and Tyler, not the same as feeling their presence and carrying their warm familiar scents.

Leaving was necessary, and when he sees his father laughing without flinching, a healthy flush in his cheeks, fishing with his uncles—Chase is glad he did, that they left and gave John space and time to heal.

But he misses his pack so much some days, he aches.

~*~

He still dreams.

Sometimes, when he’s dreaming, he knows that the dreams are different. Important.

But when he wakes, all he can remember is the pressure of his wolves on either side of him and the scent of gasoline and rain in his nose, the ache of the run in his legs.

He dreams he can hear a whisper, familiar and strange, Soon. Soon. You’re coming home soon.

~*~

Chase and John come back to Harrisburg on a Saturday in late July, a day that is unremarkable in every way, except that it brings Chase.

>> I’m home.

>> I’m coming over.

<< See you soon.

He rubs his palms over his thighs, wiping away the sweat as his nerves build. The sound of an unfamiliar vehicle on the drive registers first, and he laughs as it clatters into view, an ugly green Bronco that looks older than Chase.

“What do you think?” Chase shouts from the driver’s side window.

Tyler smirks, coming down the stairs to greet him. “I think it’s just as loud as you are,” he says easily and gets a yelp of indignation. Chase kills the engine and slides out of the Bronco with a wide smile and Tyler—

Tyler freezes.

Chase isn’t the small, wide-eyed little boy he remembers. He doesn’t reek of grief and loneliness anymore. He isn’t hunched in on himself and afraid.

Somehow, even watching him, Tyler managed to miss that Chase has grown up over the years. He’s grinning, wide and happy, his shoulders broad and straight as he bounces in place, muscular arms long and lean like the rest of him, glee written all over his face, confidence radiating from every gorgeous inch of him.

And he’s gorgeous.

The boy who forced his way into Tyler’s pack and family has grown up into a gorgeous man with distractingly pink lips, strong arms, and hair the perfect length for pulling, and—how the actual fuck had he missed this?

He’s still frozen when Chase throws his arms around Tyler, squeezing hard and strong, completely confident of his welcome, and Tyler shudders because Chase is home.

He has no idea what to do with the ridiculously handsome man he’s become.

Chapter 10

“You’re Chase DeWitt.”

He stares at Aurora Black, standing in front of him with curling dark red hair and an arch smile, and nods, a quick bobble of his head. She eyes him, the kind of searching look he imagines she gives a pair of shoes when deciding if she’ll take them home or not.

“You’re ranked second in our class. I need someone who gives me a little bit of a challenge. We’ll be studying together this year,” she says decisively.

Chase blinks. “Do I get a vote?”

She flashes a smile that’s all teeth. “No.” She snatches up his phone and taps her number into it. “Text me your schedule and I’ll put together time for us to meet.”

She swirls away in a clatter of heels and swishing skirts, and Chase stares after her.

“What the fuck?” he mutters.

~*~

Three days later, he hasn’t still hasn’t figured it out, but he’s sitting