Page 9 of Shifting Years (Whispering Hills #5)
"I'll hit the bigger wolf, and if the smaller one isn't scared, I'll take a swing at it. You run and find a tree."
"I'm not climbing."
"Then find a rock."
The larger black wolf growled, snapping at the air several times, spraying thick spittle.
"You got a rock yet?"
"Why do you see something and your immediate desire is to kill it?"
"Because it's large with teeth and claws."
"We can't just attack them! Peace is the way."
"Tell them that!"
"Fine, I will."
He stepped closer, and my arm slapped across his chest, sending his racing heartbeat against my fingertips.
"Look, I appreciate you wanting to protect me, but not your way." He dropped his backpack and held his hand out like some Las Vegas magician.
"Seriously? Trying that ESP stuff now?"
"Can you trust me for once?"
"Like with the car?"
His neck muscles tensed. "Let's start low, we can always escalate."
I didn't agree. If they killed us, there wouldn't be a later. Mike stepped closer to the larger wolf. The smaller one snapped at the air, inches from his fingers. He jerked his hand back and stared as if imagining his hand gone.
"We can take them if we work as a team for once," I said. The smaller black one snapped at me. "See? They want to fight."
"There's something I'm not getting."
"Talk about the understatement of the year."
He ignored me. "I won't hurt you," he said to the smaller one.
"That's the one who almost bit you."
"Yeah, but I reached for the bigger wolf." His posture drooped and he held his hands out. Soon, the smaller black one stepped forward and sniffed.
"You have something in your backpack?"
"Nothing an animal would want. Although, there is a joint and an acid tab I mentioned earlier, but that's in a sealed baggie. It's air-tight so police dogs can't find it."
"Geez, Mike. You know who you're telling this to, right?"
"Arrest me."
The smaller wolf licked Mike's outstretched hand tentatively as if it were a giant puppy. A few seconds later, Mister ESP rubbed the wolf's head, as if it were a loyal dog.
I reached for it, but Mike clamped his hand around my wrist as the larger one growled. "Go ahead, try touching the bigger one."
"You serious?"
"As a heart attack."
That sounds safer.
I did, and instead of the gentleness with Mike and 'his' wolf, this one headbutted me and I fell back on the ground.
He put heavy paws on my chest but kept most of its weight off.
It reminded me of the police dogs my dad loaned out for riot control, sit-ins, or university protests. They'd play when off-duty, but rough.
This might be the stupidest thing I've ever done.
I playfully shoved it back and it swatted its paw against my head with no nails touching. It was like my cousins and I play-fighting. To the side, Mike petted his wolf with long soft strokes, picking out burrs and twigs in the fur.
Minutes passed in a blur. Common sense said roughhousing with a wolf—especially a large one—was dangerous. Yet we wrestled through the leaves and sticks, not hurting each other. It was like two guys wrestling on a mat, with neither taking it too far.
Mike had a gentler experience but didn't miss out. Stares and smiling at his wolf was more of his mindset. Then, as if the animals were never here, they ran off quickly into the forest.
Mike and I were both on the ground, but with no real evidence our wolf playtime happened. "You didn't slip me anything, did you?"
He whispered back with awe, "No. The strongest thing I have to share is a joint, although I suppose I could cut an acid tab in half." He blinked before smiling. "You want to?"
"No. That junk will mess you up."
"Anything will, if you don't treat it with respect. You can overdose on Vitamin C."
"Those aren't vitamins." I got up and offered my hand.
For seconds, we locked eyes, holding hands like lovers.
I'm not sure what I am anymore, especially after meeting him again.
It's obvious I'd have to break up with Donna.
She deserved someone who didn't have these thoughts or who might die in Vietnam. Neither was husband material.
I rubbed my head against his like I've seen wolves and dogs do. Compassion for him or Donna kept my lips away. Even the tiniest kiss would give him or me hope. As for Donna, I needed to man up and tell 'my girl' in person.
Technically, I'd be free, but Mike wouldn't hide and being open would get us both killed. I pulled away as gently as I could and whispered, "We can't do this. It's just not possible."
"They say the same thing about going to the moon," he said.
"We haven't gone."
"We will soon."
I spoke about the capsule that burst into flames. There was no way we'd get to the moon for at least another ten years. Although it would be nice to beat the Russkies.
He stared back as if sensing my decision. Maybe this was best. I couldn't imagine being with a Know-It-All for years.
"Your loss," he said. "There are men who'll take me if you're not around."
He didn't want to be with anyone else. It was to manipulate me and yet, my heart pounded while I fisted my hands. There was no other man, but I wanted to pull him from Mike's mind. Images came of squeezing the neck of some guy with unknown facial features.
"You okay?" Mike stared with a tight-lipped frown. "You're spacing out."
"Thinking about you…" His face softened before I continued. " You could have been killed. The experience was amazing, but what if it wasn't?"
"So, you do care."
"Yeah, it's what I do." I pointed to an imaginary policeman's badge on my chest.
"So you'd do that for anyone else?" he asked slowly.
"Yeah… no. I don't know." We faced my town in a temporary silence which turned suffocating.
Talking about a relationship was useless, so we picked other topics.
Every political hero and decent American I admired, he hated.
His idols were troublemakers organizing college sit-ins and helping our enemies by showing the United States weren't united.
I never heard of his books, but they all sounded like they were written by people on drugs.
He didn't like John Wayne or war movies.
Yet, it seemed like he wanted to help people.
He worked on a farm that gave food away to those in need.
My father said handouts made people lazy, but I know people who work every day and miss meals.
An hour later, we reached the town's edge. Five minutes after that, a black-and-white police car screeched to a stop beside us.
"Oh crap." Mike held his backpack away from the car. My heart sank when a familiar older man with thick black glasses and perfectly combed black and grey hair stepped out.
"So, you aren't in a ditch somewhere. I've got the whole force looking for you boy, because someone reported your car smashed against a tree.
" He spoke to me, but his gaze lingered on Mike, already sizing him up.
The interrogation followed, like an explanation of why I was way out there.
Telling him I had to see the guy who had his mouth around my dick wasn't an option.
He stepped forward, smelling my breath for alcohol before checking for bloodshot eyes. He grabbed Mike's backpack. "This your dealer?"
"No, it's not like that."
My father tore through the backpack, not caring about the books and what looked like a diary.
"Hey, man!" screamed Mike. "You can't grab my stuff. That's like unreasonable search and seizure."
Dad ignored him, focused instead on the rolled-up joint. "Boy, you're under arrest."
***
"Badass!" Kim sipped tea and gave Mike a lingering thumbs up. "Most of the great punk bands and singers got thrown in jail too, you know."
"I've been on both sides of metal bars, more often than I like and it's not fun," said Mike. "Is this what your Alpha's worried about? You getting arrested?"
"He says my clubs are violent, but he loves country music. Why are those places okay? Do you know how many fights happen there ? They have sawdust on the floor to soak up blood!"
"Jail isn't a place for anyone to end up. Trust me, I know. I'm the son of a policeman and someone who stopped being anyone's child long ago." It's said Alphas don't cry, but that's not true. Yet, the tears were long dried and buried under decades of experience and a whole lot of pain.
"We went to jail," I said. "It led to me losing someone important."
***