Over the next couple of weeks, I kept my eyes and ears keen, and tried to keep my mind open as Sky further integrated into our “pack of three.”
He spent less time locked away in his bedroom, blaring his music and scribbling in notebooks, and more time in shared spaces.
He’d listen to the conversations Fletcher and I shared while making meals, sometimes commenting, sometimes simply observing. He did offer to help clean up most nights, and enjoyed watching TV with us before bed.
I couldn’t help but notice how gentle Fletcher was with Sky, or how encouraging he was—always offering a kind word or a reassuring touch—and how Sky seemed to latch onto that like a lifeline. How he always leaned on Fletcher if he sat beside him on the couch.
And how it ruffled my wolf to see my mate freely give his affection to another man. I couldn’t help how I felt. I was an Alpha, after all. Fletcher’s partner and protector. He’d been mine for so very long; sharing him was hard.
But Fletcher soothed my worries away every night when he curled up in my arms. He kissed my fears away. “I’m your husband,” he said. “Your mate. Nothing is going to change that.”
He was right. He was the other half of my heart, and I needed to trust him. Now more than ever.
After realizing we were missing several ingredients for tonight’s dinner, Fletcher had thrown together a shopping list and went out to get groceries.
I closed myself up in the study to get some paperwork done—there was always paperwork to be done, running a business—but after a while, something didn’t feel quite right.
I listened intently, but Sky wasn’t playing his usual music, so he likely wasn’t in his room. The shower wasn’t running, so he wasn’t there, and I didn’t hear the TV either. A strange sort of dread filled my gut, because the quiet in the house was just too quiet. I left my study and crept down the hall.
Let’s just say I was more than a little thankful when I found Sky pacing in the living room. Relief washed over me with one slow exhalation.
I was overthinking things, as usual.
Still, Sky seemed upset. He had his hands buried in his hoodie pockets, and his shoulders were drawn up close to his neck. He mutttered under his breath, a low growl of words I couldn’t make out.
Even from here, I could feel his agitation, the sharp bite of his broken energies.
I needed to step in.
“Sky?” I called softly.
Sky startled, whipping around to face me. His face instantly flushed, almost as if he was embarrassed to be caught in the act, whatever the act was. He looked at me, uncertainty painted in the angles of his body.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
The answer came too quickly. “Nothing.”
My lips curved into a half-smile. “Liar. Something’s bugging you. What’s up? Talk to me.”
I closed the distance between us, all while watching the Omega for any signs that he might lash out or become aggressive. He hugged his elbows to his sides and shook his head.
“Just…thinking,” came his mumbled reply as he glanced sidelong out the window.
“About the past?” I guessed.
“Yeah.”
Sky had been seeing a therapist who had been highly recommended to us, someone who specialized in shifter-based trauma. Fletcher had been taking him to his appointments and, according to him, they’d been going well, but stirring up painful memories could tear the scabs off old wounds. I knew that.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I stood tall and strong, a lighthouse in the storm. Sky obviously didn’t trust me the way he did Fletcher. That much was obvious in the way he looked at me, studying me behind his fringe of blond bangs.
He was uncertain, like he wasn’t sure whether he could rely on me, but his aura kept spiking, and I didn’t want him to lose control again.
I approached him slowly, holding my arms out to him. “Come here, Sky…”
Sky growled, the sound low and deep and coming from the beast within.
I responded with a growl of my own, cutting him off. “Don’t be that way. Come here.”
