Page 58 of Legacy Wolf: Semester One (Legacy Wolf #1)

JACK

Finals were just around the corner and all of the studying was getting to me. The words on the pages were starting to blur, and the more I sat there doing work, the less I was accomplishing.

“I need to do something fun.” I slammed my book closed and turned to Rawling. “If I keep on studying non-stop, I won’t pass my finals, and before you say something stupid like studying makes you know the material better or some shit, don’t. I know my limit, and I’ve met it.”

Rawling looked at me like he was about to burst out laughing.

There was nothing funny about what I’d just said, but I was glad to see the humor on his face nonetheless.

He’d been a mess lately, not sleeping or eating well.

I wasn’t sure if it was still the bad dreams he’d been having, the worry over going back to his godfather’s empty house alone for the summer, or if he was getting sick.

Humans tended to catch a lot more than shifters did.

At least that was what our science books said.

Had he not broken up with Holden, I’d be sure he was pregnant.

So much of what was wrong with him lined up with those symptoms, but with no sex came no baby.

At least no unexpected baby. And really, I wasn’t so sure humans could become pregnant by shifters.

I’d heard both sides of that issue, but true mates seemed to be the only way to make a baby, and Holden wasn’t that.

Shit, Holden was barely a side piece, a side piece without sex. Was that even a thing?

“Yes. Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He was standing by the side of his bed, his laptop and books still sprawled over the mattress. “Where to?”

“I don’t know. Let me see what I can pull together.”

Rawling seemed all in when I left our room to grab some friends, much less so when I came back with the news that we were having an impromptu game night, but one outside, not in.

I managed to find where the games like Bocce Ball and some bean bag tosses and such were stored and thought it would be perfect.

Rawling said it sounded great, but his body language told an entirely different story.

“If you don’t want to come, I won’t be mad.” Worried, yes, but not mad.

“No. I do. I’m just tired.” That was his excuse for life recently.

It was difficult to judge just how much his exhaustion was playing into his behavior and mood and how much it was just normal school shit.

Some days Rawling was an open book, but he had been tight-lipped and snippy in the past week or so.

I loved him dearly, but sometimes he frustrated me.

“Then get some sweatpants on. It’s time to kick some serious butt.”

He at least smiled at me. That was something. Maybe he needed a night of fun to get out of his funk.

Word spread quickly that Phoenix House was going to have a tournament of fun. At least that’s what I called it. I’d have loved to have organized snacks and prizes, but this would do.

When I got outside, Phelan was setting up a new game.

Normally I’d have paid him no mind. There was just something about him that rubbed me the wrong way and there was nothing I could pinpoint.

Probably because I didn’t think he was good enough for Rawling.

But I was curious about the game and went over to chat.

He was shoving two poles into the ground that were connected almost like a boxy capital A with an extra rung, or maybe a capital H with two extra lines.

Either way, I couldn’t quite figure out what we would do with it.

The entire thing was made out of PVC piping and not wide enough for us to walk through.

“Thanks for bringing…”

“Ladder Ball,” he filled in for me. “And I was glad to have a reason to bring it out. My cousin introduced it to me, and it’s fun.” He reached into a cloth sack and pulled out two balls connected by string. “Let me show you how it works.”

The game was simple enough, throw the balls and have them wrap around a bar, each gaining a different point amount. But knowing what needed doing and being able to do it were two different things. By the time Phelan had given me the rundown, we had an audience and the first of our games had begun.

I snuck away after my turn to make sure the other games were set up.

Being in charge of stuff like this wasn’t my thing, but I’d come up with the tournament concept, so I had to manage it.

Game nights had slowly brought the other shifters of Phoenix House to seeing me as one of them and not just some latent.

If this was going to be the last night we had this semester, I longed for it to be a good one.

My eyes kept wandering back to Phelan. Tonight was the first time I’d felt at ease around him, almost as if he were being himself for the first time.

Or at least not hiding behind his family name and standing.

Maybe I’d been unfair. It wasn’t like I knew the guy.

He’d been boinking Rawling while I’d been sleeping with his roommate.

That was the sum total of my “relationship” with Phelan.

Phelan was giving Rawling a tutorial on the game.

My friend seemed a bit more into the games than he’d been earlier, and I was glad.

I was worried about him—really worried, and with summer break coming, I wouldn’t be around to keep an eye on him.

Not that he either needed or wanted a mother hen. But I couldn’t help it.

“Hey, Jack.” I turned to see Atticus. “Want to…” He reached out as if to stroke my butt. I wasn’t sure what part of us being friends he didn’t understand.

“Yeah, no. Remember what we agreed? Friend zone. Done.”

I brushed past him and over to Bardoul who was in a serious conversation with Channon over the Bocce balls.

Only when I got there, the conversation had nothing to do with the balls, Bardoul expressing his concern over his scholarship.

“Sorry, I thought you were organizing Bocce,” I said, not knowing how to back out of a private conversation.

Bardoul was embarrassed by his economic situation on a good day. He didn’t need me here, listening to his woes. I might not be in the same situation, but finances were sucking for my family too. Losing his scholarship would mean the end of his academic career.

“No. It’s fine.” Bardoul waved for me to come closer. “I’m just being a nervous Nelly. I don’t feel confident in my ability to ace my finals, and I have no choice but to nail them. My grades are not solid enough without them.”

“You’ve got this.” Channon gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You’ve been working your ass off.”

“I want that to be true.” Bardoul’s defeated tone hurt my heart and had guilt over my own financial pity party slamming into me.

As bad as things were with me, I was going to be fine.

I might have to bust my ass all summer working two jobs if my soccer scholarship application didn’t pan out. But I’d make it.

I hated that my back-up plan was taking Rawling up on his offer of a loan, but if need be, I had that too.

Bardoul would as well, I was sure. But I couldn’t suggest that, and Rawling had his reasons for not letting the entire school know he had more money than most of the “rich and powerful” students ever dreamed of, thanks to the secret bank account.

“How about we set up the Bocce Ball game for real and pretend real life doesn’t suck?” Channon offered, and Bardoul took him up on it, the two of them recruiting teams for their Phoenix House rules version of the game.

We stayed outside even after the sun set and the lights came on, Mrs. Adilla coming through with delivery pizza. Sure, it was delivered from the dining hall, but there was not one complaint. We were all having fun. At least most of us were.

Rawling, I wasn’t so sure. There were moments he was smiling and tossing a bean bag to victory and other moments where he looked like someone had kicked his puppy after stealing his favorite shirt and knocking his dinner onto the ground.

I wished he trusted me enough to let me in.

But he didn’t. At least not with whatever this was that was weighing on him. I just needed to be here for him.

That was what friends did, and at the end of the day, I was Rawling’s friend. I didn’t care that he wasn’t a shifter. He could be the boogieman for all I cared. He was Rawling, and that was all that mattered.