Page 13 of Full Moon Frenzy

His boundaries were fine. He didn’t play into his father’s head games, not the way the others in his family did. He didn’t care about jockeying for a desk job at the firehouse, using his name to pave the way. He didn’t desperately need a seat at City Hall. He didn’t need to wonder about his place in the Cambric Creek heritage museum — he didn’t care. Julia was right. He was happy with his life, exactly as it was. And there’s nothing wrong with that. They can suck my balls with their healthy boundaries.

Trapp wasn’t sure if he’d nodded off or merely disassociated, his eyes opening in a glare when he was flicked with water. He’d not even heard Grayson exit the pool, but now his brother loomed over him like a mountain, rolling his eyes.

Grayson dropped into the lounger beside him, setting two condensation-covered bottles on the table between them before rubbing a towel over his hair.

“Okay, let’s get some perspective. First of all. She’s a human.”

“Do not give me one of Dad’s lines of bullshit.”

Grayson raised his hands innocently, flipping the towel to the chairback and whipping Trapp in the face in the process. “I’m just saying! Statistically, these things don’t tend to last. We both know that.”

“Statistically, that’s based on the entire wolvish population, which is heavily tilted by the packs. Of course, they’re not in relationships with humans. We both know that, too. Did you give that line to Lowell?”

“I gave it to the girl, actually,” Grayson countered immediately. “The last time they came to visit. She said he’s had her sleeping in mud huts and trekking through jungles. Said ‘him disappearing for two days a month is the least of her worries.’ I believe her. It’s probably the only time she gets any peace and quiet.”

At that, Trapp chuckled. Lowell’s human girlfriend was infinitely patient, a perfect match for their chaotic younger sibling.

“Secondly . . . What did you think was going to happen? I mean, it’s not like this is a surprise from the universe. You were together, what? Three? Four years?”

“What the fuck does that mean? You and Vanessa—”

“Vanessa and I are not the topic of conversation. And you know fucking damn well that we’ve only been together for a few years. Now she’s got me agreeing to wear pink tie to the wedding and have our ashes put in the same jar in the family crypt. Don’t even try it.”

“I honestly didn’t think she was unhappy,” Trapp admitted begrudgingly after a moment, taking the second bottle from Gray’s outstretched hand. “She never said she was unhappy! She never said anything! We talked about marriage early on, and then it was never brought up again. By either of us,” he added, scowling ahead of the comeback that he could already hear in his brother’s voice. “I’m so sick of everyone asking why I haven’t proposed. An engagement shouldn’t be a surprise. Why would it be my decision alone? Why would I be the only person in charge of deciding the next step of a partnership?”

He tipped the bottle back, choking when an unexpected carbonation hit the back of his throat. Fruity. Slightly floral.

“What the fuck did you give me? This is what you’re drinking now? Are you an elf?”

Grayson only grinned, opening his own bottle of the Elvish spritzer. “Low cal, surprisingly high proof, and they’re caffeinated. You get used to the flavor. Okay, ignore for a second that she didn’t bring it up. Humor me. What did you think was going to happen next? For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even live together. You’ve got a whole ass house to yourself, and she was living with a roommate like a fucking university student. I know you inhale smoke for a living, but surely that’s idiotic even to you, right? How did you let four years slip away without ever questioning what was next?”

Trapp sputtered, choking on the drink once more. He would have been better off going back to the bar. You might have gotten more sympathy from Dad at this point.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because in the past two years I’ve gone from working twenty-four on, forty-eight off to forty-eight on, ninety-six off, and time is fucking meaningless? Christmas may as well have been two weeks ago! I know you all think my main job is making chili and judging the garden club’s bake-off, but I’m the senior shift paramedic. Vinlop and I are the only ones in the station licensed for flights. I train every new EMT. I still spend more time in the box than anything else.”

His voice shook with an emotion Trapp could barely define. Frustration. That’s what it is. Most of the family was the same as the rest of the community — they never saw him doing anything more taxing than grocery shopping and overseeing capacity at the Makers’ Mart. They weren’t there for the car accidents and cardiac events. They had no idea what a stressful shift actually looked like for him.

“So maybe it’s because for half the month I’m in a suspended state of tachypsychia? I don’t know what day of the week it is most of the time, so how am I supposed to keep track of months?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Grayson interjected. “And I’m willing to bet she didn’t either. If she were to walk through that gate right now, are you dropping to a knee?”

His mouth moved, jaw working, but his voice refused to participate. He didn’t know how to answer. Yes. He would fix things with her if he could. No. Julia wasn’t wrong — he liked his life as it was. When his silence persisted, Grayson raised his hand as if Trapp had proved his point.

“No,” he blurted, fist clenching, fiery irritation finally making itself heard in his voice. Beneath his skin, his wolf snapped. “No, I’m not. And she didn’t want that either; she said so. So how am I automatically the one at fault?”

“I didn’t say you were. But what the fuck are you upset about? The two of you had forty-eight months to figure out if there was a future, so if the answer is still ‘I don’t know,’ then it’s ‘no’ with extra steps. She just arrived there first.”

Trapp let his head drop forward, deflated, his anger evaporating. Grayson wasn’t wrong. He was the worst fucking hypocrite, but he wasn’t wrong. Julia hadn’t been either. But knowing that didn’t ease the sick feeling churning through him since he’d walked back to Main Street alone two nights earlier.

“I’m not saying you’re in the wrong.” Grayson clapped him on the back, too hard, nearly making him choke on the sip of flowery drink he’d just swallowed. “Things reached their natural conclusion. And she’s a human. So.” He shrugged with a grin, as if Trapp were meant to feel better.

“Whatever. I fucking hate this,” he grumbled. “Everyone’s going to have an opinion. Everyone. All over town. Mom’s going to be upset . . . I’ve got to get in front of it. It was for the job opportunity. She’s moving for a job opportunity. But then that doesn’t explain why she didn’t give the school a chance to counteroffer. . . She’s moving to be closer to her family. Her mom fell not long ago, and Julia needs to be closer . . . that’s what I’ll say when it comes up.”

Grayson’s sharp bark of laughter echoed across the water. “That’s what you’re upset about. That’s what has you smelling like a distillery. Not the end of your relationship. Not because you’re heartbroken. But the possibility that someone, somewhere, is going to think badly of you. She’s probably still packing her trunk and you’re already rewriting your version of things.”

“Oh, fuuuuuck you. Don’t even pretend that you don’t do the exact same thing! This is a page out of your playbook; yours and fucking Jackson’s. And while we’re at it, don’t pretend you didn’t fall to pieces when you and Vanessa split up. Sure, you acted like everything was fine, but I was witness to it.”

Grayson shook his head, still laughing. “Trapp, you are wholly invested in being everyone’s best friend. I could give less of fuck about the neighbors. It’s good to have a strong public game, but not at the detriment of your actual life, you dumbfuck. This is all for me.”