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He would be fidgety on the plane, anxiety tightening his lungs as they touched down in Bridgeton, unsure if he was simply that excited to see everyone or already regretting his decision. His homesickness would last approximately twenty-four hours after his arrival, his mother’s overbearingness and desire for him to move home grating on his nerves by the end of the first shared meal, the battle for his father’s attention, in which he’d never been a contender, still going strong, and the claustrophobia of being surrounded by his brothers inescapable. He felt lost in the sea of his giant family, lost and unseen.
But ......he didn’t like the idea of them all having fun together without him.
He had just begun to plot mischief against the lot of them; payment for forgetting about him as always, a comeuppance they would deserve, when his phone rang, the buzzing of it across the small tabletop startling him from his malicious reverie. His first thought was that it would be his office, someone from the publisher calling with some news.We have a job for you. You can fly back. Good news, restrictions have been lifted.
It was a local exchange, dashing his hopes. He had no idea who would be calling him from an unknown local number, not when the only people he talked to were family, and all of their numbers were saved.
“He-hello?”
“Good morning. I’m looking for Lowell Hemming?”
“This-this is . . . um, what is this concerning?”
“Ah, perfect. Mr. Hemming, this is Dr. Randolph, calling from Moon Blooded —”
“The clinic!” His annoyance with his family was instantly replaced with nerves and excitement. This was it, the call he’d forgotten he was waiting for.You’ve been chosen. You’ve been chosen. You’ve been chosen . . .
“Correct. I’m calling to inform you that you have been selected by one of our patients as a potential donor.”
His balls contracted in excitement. The moon was only a few days away, and soon they would be emptying into the willing, enthusiastic body of his unknown partner. Lowell pumped a fist in the air in triumph, uncaring who may have been watching his one-sided reaction to the conversation. The end of his hometown dry spell was in sight.
“— Unfortunately, she contacted us too late in the month for this moon’s viability. We will be in touch before next month’s moon to set up your intake procedure, and I see here that you have checked off on your donor survey that you release your personal information to the patient. She may be contacting you in the interim for an interview to determine if you will remain the donor of her choice. In the future, if you wish for your contact information to not be shared, you must update your preferences on the clinic’s portal under your login credentials. If you have any questions in the meantime, don’t hesitate to reach out. That’s all for now, have a safe turn this moon!”
He closed his eyes in disappointment at the doctor’s words. His balls deflated. Lowell thought he felt one of them crawl up inside his body, probably looking for a place to cry, and he empathized greatly with the desire.
An interview.You fucking suck at interviews. It was up to the girl now, whoever she was. He wondered if she would call him, if they would have a video call or just phone conversation, if she would find him charming enough on the phone, wishing he had a deeper voice like Grayson’s or possessed Trapp’s good-natured humor. He didn’t have his twin’s calm, soft-spokeness or Jackson’s ability to doublespeak his way out of anything. He could make himself sound good on paper, but on the phone, she would be able to tell that he was a high-strung, needy mess. The only thing standing between him and what he wanted was . . . him.
Leaving the coffee shop, his feet took him on a familiar route, one he had walked hundreds of thousands of times since childhood. He’d always been in a rush, according to his mother. He leapt before he looked, and had always looked for a faster route forward, even if it meant he forged it alone. Sandi liked to reminisce that Lowell had stood before he’d crawled, walking before Owen, despite being the smaller twin, therunt of the litteras Trapp had called him when they were children.
There were no social groups he could join or professional associations currently meeting. The human’s pandemic had put everything on hold. He couldn’t meet anyone in Cambric Creek, and he understood why Trapp, arguably the most attractive person in town, had taken up with a human, brand-new to the area. Jackson had met Victoria in grad school, far away from here, and Owen’s girlfriend was from Bridgeton, met through their mutual friend group. Grayson and Vanessa met in the city and shared a profession; even his father had left Cambric Creek to find his mate. It didn’t matter how often Grayson told him he needed to go out and get laid — it wasn’t that simple, not for them. Not for any of them.
When his phone went off again, he had just turned off an alley on the side of the building that housed the small local newspaper.
Hi there, this is Moriah. I’m the one who picked you. From the clinic, I mean.
The thunderous sound of his own heartbeat was all he could hear as he staggered out of the alley, cutting around the side of another building and crossing the street against traffic until he could find a bench. He used too many exclamation points, he thought, reading over the messages he’d already sent, his brain in too much of a rush and flooded with too much excitement to think about looking them over before hitting send.You probably sound like a little kid. He hoped his enthusiasm wasn’t a turn off for her, hoping he wasn’t being too agreeable with her plan for them to meet a day or two after the full moon. When she suggested Cambric Creek, he accepted without hesitation.You can wear a disguise if you have to.
When he packed his borrowed car with the kayak the day later, eager to give Grayson and Vanessa their space, he had sent her another message, wishing her well, hoping her first heat wasn’t too intolerable. He hoped she would find him interesting and attractive and not as annoying and in the way as his family seemed to. He hoped she would pick him. Hope was all he felt, and it had been so long since he had hoped for anything that he didn’t know quite how to process the emotion.
It was going to be, he thought with a sigh, averylong month.
* * *
Chapter 4
