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Avery doesn’t, though. Instead, he mumbles, “If my mom hadn’t disowned me, and also had died young, I’d probably fight tooth and nail to keep whatever of her I could.” A moment later, he lowers his phone and looks at Sascha with an expression Sascha can’t decipher. “Thank you for inviting me to share such an important part of your connection with her.”

Sudden guilt curls in Sascha’s gut. He intentionally hasn’t mentioned that his mother hated werecreatures and would be pinwheeling in her grave if she knew Sascha was bringing one totheirspot. It’s best Avery doesn’t know.

Trying to sound casual, Sascha makes a move to close the conversation. “So yeah, even if the lake is cursed for real, I alreadyhave the damn sickness, so it can’t ruin my life any more than it already has.”

“Problem solved,” Avery says, his smile weak but genuine.

After that, Sascha tries to lighten the mood, but none of his non-sequiturs net him more than a soft noise in response. Maybe Avery’s sensed there’s stuff Sascha isn’t saying. Maybe they’re both just nervous.

The drive to the lake symbolizes a decision, after all.

Sascha isn’t interested in simply fucking Avery; if he’s being honest, the moment he saw the distant look in Avery’s seaglass eyes, staring impassively from his PROWLR bio, Sascha’s interest in the werecreature grew far beyond sexual conquest. He wants more of Avery, and he’s ready to prove it,even if continued proximity will open doors never meant to be disturbed. Doors with secrets behind them—ones he’ll have to keep from both Averyandhis pack. So much could go wrong, but with every mile he crosses, the choice cements itself further into Sascha’s cells, taking over his being.

Sascha isn’t close with his pack. The love might be there, but it’s not a well-guarded secret that no one believes Sascha could be a suitable pack alpha. It has driven a wedge between them and Sascha’s pride, one he has neither the energy nor the incentive to mend.

But Avery.Averybelieves in him. Avery, who has been vulnerable but brave, who has trusted Sascha with his safety twice now, and is about to take it much further. Sascha has no idea how to teach a werecreature to do something Sascha’s species is incapable of doing, but he’s willing to try, and Avery is willing to let him.

It’s the most responsibility Sascha has ever been allowed, and he’ll do anything to prove himself worthy.

Reflex has him turning off the road at the exact spot he always does, pulling his little hatchback behind a large row of bushes. Tire tracks have beaten down the foliage, out of sight from the road that continues to the compound where the pack’s extended families live. He parks, then shifts in his seat to consider Avery.

“You ready?”

Avery scoffs. “No, but the full moon is in four days, so I don’t exactly have time to warm up to the idea.”

“Noted.” Sascha claps him on the shoulder without thinking. A moment later, the full impact of the gesture hits him, and Sascha scrambles out of the car, his face burning.

Did he just bro slap a fellow queer guy like he would one of his cousins? As if Avery’s fear deserves the same dismissive type of reassurance afforded to Sascha by his family when he expresses emotions about being gay, or being disabled, or simplybeing.

He might be overthinking this, but even if he is, Sascha makes a point to approach Avery with more care when they meet in front of the car. He sets his other hand on Avery’s other shoulder, like that side can project more empathy, and squeezes.

“It’s gonna be okay. You have a few more minutes to freak out before we get there, ‘cause I wasn’t joking about the fence, and there’s no gate.”

“Climbing’s fine with me,” Avery says, leaning just slightly into Sascha’s touch.

Sascha can’t help himself after that. He slides his hand to Avery’s upper back, thumb stroking just above Avery’s collar. The action needs no accompanying words. Avery appears to feel the same, letting his head hang while Sascha rubs the nape of his neck. He doesn’t want to pull away, but they aren’t technically safe from prying eyes until they’re on the other side of the fence, so Sascha reluctantly lets go. Avery’s smile is less tense when he straightens, and Sascha, emboldened, nudges his knuckles against Avery’s as he takes the lead.

Fingers twine together. Avery clutches Sascha’s hand so tightly it makes Sascha’s pulse pound. Has holding hands ever been like this, before Avery?

They reach the fence, several feet tall and thick with shrubs and vines, grown wild around the chain links. Avery doesn’t wait for Sascha to prompt him before scaling the links like a confident little squirrel. A half-grin tugs Sascha’s mouth as he watches Avery hoist himself over the barbs at the top, disappearing behind the foliage. The fence groans when he releases it, jumping to the ground below with a soft‘oof!’

Sascha follows, climbing down carefully rather than jumping. Hard impacts are potential triggers, and he doesnotwant to have another episode in front of Avery. Not only for his pride, but because today he’s meant to focus on Avery’s struggles, not his own. Still, as Sascha is lowering hissneakered foot to the uneven ground, Avery comes up from behind to catch Sascha around the waist, steadying him. Sascha’s feet find purchase with Avery warm and solid at his back.

It takes every ounce of self-control for Sascha to not spin Avery around, press him against the vine-laced fence, and kiss him hard, taking everything he hadn’t allowed himself before. But no. Again. It’s still not the time.

Taking a deep, bracing inhale, Sascha turns, catching Avery’s hand and hoping he looks more composed than he feels.

He should have brought a blanket. Or food. He was so anxious this morning, he didn’t think of either. They’ll have to find somewhere on the way back.

Sascha stops at the clearing by the lake, where he and his mom used to have picnics. The water laps gently against the sandy shore, helping him fumble with the inner peace that’s been denying him since he woke up just after six AM. The smell of the breeze off the water and the trees framing the open space allows him a sense of security.

Releasing Avery’s hand, Sascha shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. “Do you have any idea of how you want to start?”

“No. Not a clue.”

With a ruffle to Avery’s curls, Sascha says, “Let’s start simple. Something we have in common.”

“We have stuff in common?” Avery’s tone suggests genuine surprise.