Page 38 of Shifting Years (Whispering Hills #5)

Months later Todd

Mike's hands moved with practiced quiet precision, kneading out tension and smoothing over our latest disagreement. Small fights came and went, but his touch was a reminder that love wasn't about being right—it was about being together.

He was still in the wrong, of course.

His hands stopped. His folded arms reflected in the glass of the photo frames lining the mantel. "You smell smug."

"Describe it."

"I can't. It's just one of those things I know."

"Oh? Because you know everything?"

"More than you."

"Yet, somehow, you don't know I still need more massaging."

He squeezed tighter and I winced before he quickly kissed my head. "Kim's pregnant, by the way. That's why I felt the urge to order those custom-made wooden toys."

I looked up from my chair. "Really? I mean, guess it's expected. Those two have been going at it like wolves in heat lately."

"Yeah…," said Mike. I'm sure he was thinking of that time, too. We had our pups, but we could still enjoy each other in the bedroom, in the forest, or wherever the urge took us.

"It's been a good life," said Mike, yanking me out of the visual.

"And not over yet. There's still blank pages."

"I know." He resumed the massage, knowing what tight muscle spots needed more attention. "We live longer, but there's so much to do."

"I'm glad for what we did." A younger, more foolish me didn't see the treasure in the shorter man. Sure, he was annoying and thought he knew everything, but he was around and loved me. Thanks to him, we had a worthwhile life, and others did too.

For decades, I watched Donna and her family, but what if the reverse were true? Was she seeing me? I had options. Men turned into wolves, and two women deep in the swamp could rewrite reality and knew things we'd dare never ask.

I can't.

I'm not a coward, but the years taught me not to go looking for trouble. As long as I remembered her, Donna still existed where it mattered.

"You okay?" whispered Mike from behind. He strolled in front, staring down, and offering a hand.

"Thinking about those in our lives and not."

The ammonia worry scent wafted off him and I nodded when he said, "Donna."

My neck didn't crack anymore thanks to Mike, but I twisted back and forth. "The worst part isn't the aches and pains, especially when you have a cute Omega to massage them…" I waited for the smile and continued. "Good life but there are so few still around."

"Especially when you're a shifter." Like me, Mike had to watch friends from a distance until they weren't with us anymore. "Our time will come soon."

What once were thirteen blank scrapbooks had dwindled to a single book, its pages waiting for the final chapters.

"There's still room for a dozen or more couples and their beginnings."

"I'm not afraid of dying," I said. "I don't want to be away from you or leave you behind. Not again. Never again. You frustrate me, but I love you." The same was true with him.

"Magic is the balance of opposing forces. What gives will take."

My voice dropped. "Did you get that from another book?"

"Does it matter?"

I've teased him over the years. He still reads about higher consciousness, LSD, spirit guides, and random paranormal creatures. Yet, considering our shifter lives, I couldn't tease him too much.

"Just find something original," I said with love. "I want something pure Mike."

"Fine." He stroked his chin. "It's a mixed blessing. Tina and Dawn wouldn't give us the books without knowing we'd be around to fill them out. They know what's coming, like they knew about Wyatt and his Omegas."

Mike froze, and without saying a word, went to our refrigerator. He pulled out a single ice-cold beer and a bottle of hand soap, then soaked a washcloth. Outside the cabin, a quick foot slid across gravel and approached.

The door creaked open, and I instinctively took a step back. A short, wiry Omega stood on the porch, reeking of oil and gasoline. Grease streaked his blue overalls, and beneath shaggy blond hair, red-rimmed eyes hinted at a cry not long ago. He spat a heavy tobacco glob away from the cabin.

"'Scuze me." He wiped his feet on the doormat, leaving slight grease streaks from his worn-out shoes.

"Hey, uh, Mary suggested, well, she told me y'all were the folks to talk to.

" His voice rose. "Of course, I'm not the one with the problem.

My Alpha's one of those uppity ones with money, and us other folk gotta work for a living.

He don't get that. Know what I'm saying? " He extended a greasy hand to Mike.

My Omega offered him a beer instead and pressed the wet towel against him. Then he did it again. After a few seconds, our visitor wiped his hands and arms.

Mike motioned to the lounge chair, probably already calculating how he'd clean it later.

The Omega leaned into the soft chair and whistled low. "This here's real fancy." He raised an eyebrow. "That don't mean you're going to take Pete's side, does it?"

Mike shook his head no. "We're neutral."

"Good, because I'm not the one with the problem here. Pete's the one who's all messed up, not me. I'm fine! Been fine all along." His voice wavered slightly.

I stared back at my mate, thinking, " Here we go again ."

He pulled out a tin of chewing tobacco and stuffed a dark wad into his right cheek. "So, what's this story I'm supposed to hear?"

"Well," Mike began, "it started decades ago, in the sixties. A time of hope, death, and dashed dreams. I was just leaving California, sure of my plans and not knowing what was coming."

He continued, and years from now the final book would be filled with photos and mementos from more wolves. Long ago, we agreed on The Wish . We'd go out together and never be separated again. Ever. And this time, we made damn sure to phrase it right.

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