Page 8 of Alder Woodacre and the Acorns of Affection (Amaranthine Interludes #3)

Joe woke in the dark to Kip’s voice in his ear. “Heyyy, Jiro. Sorry. Saw the maze stuff on the kitchen table. My bad. I completely forgot.”

“What kept you?” Joe mumbled.

“Ash wrapped up his filming. When I found out he was headed back, I went to meet him partway. That was … oh, probably Kansas? Anyhow, we had a lot to catch up on, since he missed a couple days of school this time. The kids understand, since they love his show, but they also expect him to be at school whenever they are. I try to make up for it, but … eh, they love him.”

“Yeah.”

“Been a few days,” Kip said in leading tones.

Joe just sort of curled in on himself. Instead of coming home, Kip had gone to Ash.

“Oh, man. Hey. Jiro?” Hands were pulling and turning, and arms wrapped around him. “Hey, now. What’s wrong? Breathe.”

This was wrong. Wasn’t love supposed to be a good thing? Why did this hurt so much?

“What on earth …?” Kip whispered, swiping Joe’s cheeks. “Shh, shh. Hey. Breathe , Jiro.”

Suddenly, Biddie’s voice came sharply. “What did you do to Joey-boy?”

“Nothing, Chick-a-biddie,” Kip answered. “I haven’t done anything.”

“The whole farm is crying.”

Kip maneuvered clumsily, then lofted a couple of crystals.

Joe flinched away from the light, pulling the blankets up over his head.

“Don’t look at me like that,” begged Kip. “I haven’t done anything!”

Biddie flatly replied, “Maybe you should.”

“Okay, I get it. I’m in trouble,” said Kip, giving the blankets a gentle prod. “I’m used to being in trouble. Very good at getting into trouble, but never with you, Jiro. Help me understand what’s happening. Please?”

“Be good to Joey-boy,” Biddie demanded.

“I will, Chick-a-biddie. Best behavior. I promise.” And a few moments later, Kip peeled away the blanket. He looked worried, maybe even scared. “It’s just us.”

Joe whispered, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Pretty sure you haven’t done anything to apologize for.”

“It’s all turned around. My turn, I guess. Sorry.”

“I’m confused.” Kip had resorted to sniffing.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Joe let the next words tumble out. “You’re just so easy to love.”

Kip’s expression slowly shifted into something stunned. Then stricken. He whispered, “Cheese and crackers,” which was as close as Joe had ever heard Kip come to swearing.

Then Kip wrapped his arms around Joe, resting his chin atop his head. “I’m so stupid. I know this. I’ve been this. This is me, except it’s you …?” His voice broke, and he repeated, “I’m so stupid, and I hurt you. No wonder the whole farm is crying.”

Joe curled into his bondmate, pressing an ear over his thudding heart.

Kip chirred comfort, and he tried to use tending to soothe him.

It wasn’t what Joe wanted most. Kip wasn’t saying he loved Joe back. But he understood now, and he sympathized. Joe wouldn’t have to try to hide anything anymore. Relief washed through him.

Kip groaned. Then in a small voice, heavy with regret, he said, “You tried to tell me. I’m sorry for being an idiot.”

“You’re not. I hid it.”

“Hey, can you show me …?”

Joe tensed. “How?”

“Tending. Just … tend me without hiding.”

Kip always wanted tending. But maybe it would be easier than words. So Joe let go. Just … stopped holding anything back, so that the only limit was the one imposed by Kip’s bracelet.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” gasped Kip.

“Sorry …?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. Better than fine. Just … didn’t expect ….” Curling around him, Kip said, “You don’t have to stop. I don’t want you to stop. I’d like more, please.”

So Joe lavished his greedy bondmate with years of pent-up feelings.

And Kip was right there, in the place their lives overlapped.

Joe wasn’t sure how much he’d revealed of his actual thoughts, but he was definitely catching impressions of Kip’s feelings.

They were a mess of guilt and embarrassment and shame.

But also … satisfaction. Because he was being inundated by his beacon’s brightness?

“Glutton,” Joe fondly accused.

“Holding out on me,” Kip countered, sounding sluggish, sleepy. Or was he actually tipsy? “Ash would’ve noticed … always better’n me with the quiet ones.”

Joe tried to withdraw, worried that he’d overwhelmed his bondmate.

“Nooo. Not yet. Wanna remember this.” Claws snagged in Joe’s T-shirt. Kip’s tail buried them. “Somebody for me. Even though I’m … me.”

Joe guessed he didn’t need to be worried about breaking Kip. He felt strong and right and whole. Same as always. But he’d been pushing his limits, putting off sleep.

Kip mumbled, “Gave me a name.”

That was kind of silly to be amazed about. It was his own name. “Alder,” he said.

A hum. A nuzzle. “More …?”

Joe lifted his face. “Alder,” he repeated.

A shiver. A whimper. Was he fighting sleep? He really was an idiot.

“Give in, Alder,” he whispered. “It’s okay. You need this.”

“How do I … after so long …?”

“It’s not hard. Let go.”

“Don’t let go.”

Joe reached up, found Kip’s ear, and gently tugged. “I’ll be right here when you wake up. Same as always.”

“Jirooo,” Kip sighed, going limp. “Sorry … can’t … sorry.”

And he was sound asleep. Gone deep.