Page 20 of Poet & Protector

“They don’t want us anywhere but here,” he grumbled. “Denver isn’t that far. It’s not like we’d miss patrol or school.”

“Pretty sure it’s less about the practicality of our schedules and more the reminder that our lives and duties are here,” I told him. “Guardians protect Haldis. It’s where our focus is supposed to be. The Keepers don’t want us to get distracted.”

“But maybe we could have some new kind of reward system,” Ansel mused. “Like if we do a bunch of things well, we can get a one-night pass to go into Denver and see a show.”

“You mean like a punch card?” I asked with a smirk. “Kill ten Searchers and get a free coffee?”

“It’s not a terrible idea,” Ansel said sullenly.

“Yes, it is.”

“I’m going to pitch it to Calla.”

“Can I be there to see how she reacts?” I grinned at him.

“Fine.” Ansel put his phone down. “So, what were you so busy with last night? I messaged you a bunch and you never replied.”

“My phone died and I couldn’t find my charger,” I lied, immediately on edge.

“Again?” Ansel complained. “I’m going to buy you a back-up charger, man. Maybe two.”

“I’m sure it will turn up,” I said. “Sorry about last night.”

Wednesday nights had become my regular time to visit the Bunker. I’d been there every week for the last month. Sometimes I went twice a week. I thought that might be risky, but Jackie said lots of other wolves showed up two or three times a week. As long as our schedules weren’t disrupted and no one raised questions, she didn’t think it would be a problem.

Unfortunately, raising questions was starting to be an issue for me. Ansel was a fantastic best friend, but he loved to talk. All the time. We had a running thread of messages about school, patrol, our packmates, Ansel’s crush on Bryn, music, movies, TV, more about Ansel’s crush on Bryn. Our ongoing conversations were usually a source of joy and laughter, the deep comfort of a long friendship, of another person who knew you almost as well as you knew yourself.

Ansel had always been that for me. But there was one glaring, essential aspect of my life he had no clue about. Now that I had the Bunker, it was changing the daily patterns of my friendship with Ansel.

He was the only wolf in my pack who would notice the difference, not only because of our constant messaging, but because Ansel was incredibly sensitive to others. He never missed the slightest shifts in mood or changes in behavior. He was tuned in unlike any of my other packmates because he cared so deeply about all of us. It was an innate part of his character, and I suspected he’d cast himself in the role of emotional support wolf for our pack. His sister was a good alpha, fearless and intelligent. She loved her pack, but to say she wasn’t the greatest at touchy-feely stuff was an understatement. Ansel knew that about his sister and I was pretty sure he was trying to fill in the gap.

Until recently that was one hundred percent a good thing, but now I was stuck lying to him about the hidden part of my life and it was really bothering me. My heart pinballed in my chest as I drew a steadying breath.

I can do this.

“Ansel, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Of course.” Ansel smiled at me, then his expression became worried. “Uh oh. It’s serious, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, wishing I could get my pulse to slow down. I trusted Ansel more than anyone, but I still felt like I might be sick. “It’s serious.”

I had a plan of how I wanted to frame my situation. One that I thought would help Ansel grasp where I was at right away.

“Remember a while back, when you asked me if I’d rather have Bryn or Fey for a mate?” I picked at the rug we were sitting on. “Because it was your way of working up to telling me about your crush on Bryn?”

“Yehh-ess.” Ansel weirdly formed the word in two stretched out syllables, as if he was anxious about what I would say next.

“I said I hadn’t really thought about it,” I continued. “And then you told me how you felt about Bryn.”

“How I feel about Bryn,” Ansel replied, his voice tense.

I glanced up at him. He was watching me closely, his brow scrunched.

“I’ve thought about your question,” I told him. “I’ve thought about it a lot…and I need to tell you my answer.”

“I knew it.” Ansel’s words came out hushed, his face suddenly peaked. “You like Bryn.”

Uh oh. I didn’t anticipate he might jump to this very, very incorrect conclusion. I should have.