I rest my hand on the fence, watching him as he continues to work out. He has no idea I'm out here. He has no idea what I would do for him. He has no idea the awe he inspires in me now.
"Ethan," my dad hisses. I manage to tear my eyes from my beautiful soulmate and look at my father. He's staring at me. "Is this a joke?!"
"No," I whisper numbly, looking back at him again.
"Ethan," my dad hisses again, grabbing my shoulder. "And you're sure it's not Julia? He's too old to be your mate, isn't he?!"
Soulmates are always less than one year apart in age. I struggle to recall when his birthday is. "No, he's..." I trail off, trying to remember. "His birthday is in February. He's eleven months older than me." I can't stop myself from smiling. Tyler. His birthday is soon. What should I get him? Some new weights, maybe? I wonder what size shoe he wears. I know he likes Nikes.
"Please tell me this is a joke," my dad mutters.
It finally sinks into my love-drunk head. My dad is angry.
I look over at him, shocked. "You..." When I see the hard, judgmental look on his face, the dying in the back of my brain begins to spread to the rest of my body. It gets harder to breathe. "I- I didn't pick him!"
"Ethan," my father begins, but I've already shifted. I'm running away from my father and his judgment. Away from Tyler, too, and that hurts in a different sort of way. Now I'm not looking at him, it's harder to ignore the circumstances we are now in.
We. Us. Him and I.
My heart floods with pleasure while the rest of me feels like it's decaying away, like I'm dropping pieces of myself in the forest as I run.
My father tries to mindlink me. I ignore him, cutting him off, not letting myself listen.
I run through a stream and then shake off all of the water, creating a source of my scent that will confuse my dad's nose. I will still smell like me, but hopefully it will take him long enough to pick up my trail that I can be far, far into the mountains.
I whine as I run. I can't stop it. I would be crying, if I were in my human form.
I run and run and run until it feels like the pads of my paws are bleeding. I shift into my human form so I can cry properly, to let out some of this pent-up grief.
I collapse against the trunk of a tree and sob. I slump onto the forest floor, a tree root my stiff pillow, and cry until the evening comes to this mountain town. The sun is setting. I should head home. It's freezing. I'm starving. I have to pee. I need to sleep.
I can't make myself stand up.
This is the worst case scenario. I will be leaving Julia to pursue her brother. I can think of no greater betrayal to the girl who has shown me nothing but love and warmth since we first laid eyes on each other in school. It's worse, even, because she and Tyler barely get along. She thinks he is the epitome of toxic masculinity, always trying to compensate for something. She's envious of him, too. She has told me this. Tyler, who is beautiful without trying. Tyler, who is fit when she is chubby. Tyler, who the boys want to be and the girls want to be with.
Tyler, the asshole.
A fresh wave of grief washes over me when I think of Karmen. She will understand, won't she? That I didn't do this? That I didn't pick him? Or will the girl with a patience the width of a pine needle blame me for ruining her relationship?
A horrible thought strikes me. I might not bother her relationship at all. Tyler could look at me when I tell him our plight and laugh. Call me names. Tell me I'm an idiot. Reject me as he kisses his girlfriend, happy and in love while I am made sick by his absence. I will probably die. Most rejected wolves do.
I don't want to die. I don't want Tyler to be with me if he loves Karmen, but I don't want to die, either.
I would die for him to be happy. I'm certain of this. The choice is his to make, but if it were mine, I would make it. I wouldn't do it happily. My death would not be a peaceful one. But I'd rather die than force my soulmate to be unhappy.
Misery drives me further and further into the dirt until I imagine it swarming up around me, burying me in the woods forever. It would be easier that way. Fewer people would be hurt if I, Ethan Pham, was never seen nor heard from again.
Maybe the Idols will be merciful and put me out of my misery before the sun rises tomorrow.
*****
"Ethan."
I open my eyes. My entire body aches, both from my nap on the forest floor, the intense January cold, and a feverish, sickened heartbreak. I cried in my sleep. I'm frozen to the bone, but I still spring back when I see who woke me.
Karmen.
She wears pajama pants, her feet bare, her hair braided down her back like she wears for bed. She frowns at me as I flinch away from her, the silver light of the nearly-full moon the only thing that illuminates her in this dark, long-forgotten part of the forest.
"Just do it," I whisper. "Whatever you're going to do. Do it."
Karmen hard expression doesn't change. I think she can see into my soul. "Has anyone ever told you you're really fucking dramatic, Ethan?"
Her voice, low and sharp around the quiet insult, surprises me with its strength. My own voice is shaking and flattened by pain. She is like the Douglas firs around us, tall and strong against the winter winds. I'm a brittle rosebush that has lost all of its blooms for the winter.
"Ethan," Karmen whispers, shuffling closer to me. "I am not going to say this again, so listen carefully."
I swallow, shrinking back in fear, still certain that she is going to attack me. Maybe not kill me. I don't think she's that vicious. But I'm probably going to lose a limb tonight. Maybe an eye or an ear.
"Mates always have the ability to love each other," she murmurs. Then she stands up. "Get up. The whole pack's been looking for you."
She holds her hand out to me. I look at it, then up at her, wondering what in the hell is happening.
"Ethan," she hisses impatiently, shaking her hand. "Don't make me drag you."
"You aren't mad?" I whisper.
"Think of what I said, Ethan," she sets her jaw and drops her hand. "You're an idiot. An emotional, dramatic idiot. You're completely blind to the situation you're now in." She fills herself with breath, gritting her teeth as she pierces my skin with cruel words. "So selfish! Have you had a thought about him? About what this could mean to him?!"
"You're not making sense," I whisper, shaking my head. "I haven't thought of myself all day! I've thought of you, and Julia, and-"
"I can't believe anyone could be as stupid as you," she says quietly. It's the quietness that makes me feel like I've been punched. It would be better if she screamed. "You should've been selected against in evolution. Be an adult, not a child. Use your fucking brain, Ethan. Remember things. Remember what I said."
And with that, she shifts and tears into the forest. I call after her, try to mindlink her, but no response comes.
I'm left sitting with her words in my head, trying to puzzle out why exactly she is so upset at me. She couldn't be more cryptic if she had devised a language from the colors on a Rubik's cube.
The thing that gets me is that I don't think I'm stupid. I manage Bs in school. I remember holidays and birthdays. I think of other people. I always try to think rationally. I've been told I'm wise, mature, an ancient soul. But I'm missing something. Something obvious.
Or, at least, Karmen thinks it's obvious.
Mates always have the ability to love each other.
No shit, Sherlock. Soulmates are soulmates.
"Ethan?" a voice calls. "Sierra! He's over here!"
Misty, in her human form, runs into this little clearing. Sierra's wolf form runs toward me, too, and stands beside Misty as she crouches in front of me.
"You're okay," Misty breathes in relief, hugging me. She pulls back. "I smell Karmen." Her face, which is pretty and made just a bit pixie-like by her wide eyes and pointed nose, alights in a smile. "Is your mate Karmen?!"
"No," I say, shaking my head. Misty helps me to my feet. Sierra shifts back, and begins to circle around me, scanning me for injuries.
"You're in pain," Sierra says, almost accusing me.
"Been a rough day," I mutter.
"No. You're holding yourself like something hurts," she points out.
"My feet," I admit before I think twice about it. I realize why she cares and hurry to backtrack my statement. "I'm fine. I just need some food and-"
Sierra shifts again, back into her wolf form. I know what she wants. I look down into the blue eyes of her wolf form, which has the brown-and-black patterns of fur over a white undercoat that is typical for Caucasian werewolves.
"No," I say, starting the walk back to the packhouse. "I'm fine."
Sierra bites at the back of my leg. She is gentle, but firm. She catches my pant leg in her teeth and I trip. Misty catches me deftly. She has the build of a pixie, too, all thin limbs and slight height, but I'm not a very big person. She doesn't even strain herself as she slips an arm around my chest, pulling me back onto my feet.
"You ran like fifteen miles, Ethan. Plus however far you went earlier. She's bigger than you. Just do it," Misty pleads.
I glare at Misty. "You two can't always good-cop-bad-cop people into doing what you want."
Misty suddenly dons a brilliant smile. "Watch us."
In one swift movement, she twirls behind me and shoves me forward. For the third time today, I fall, and for the third time today, someone catches me. I instinctively grab onto Sierra's fur as she begins to run forward and curse under my breath as she runs at a speed that would definitely injure me if I tried to jump off. Werewolf forms are a bit bigger than our natural counterparts, but not by much. Sierra's wolf form is only large because her human form is. She is as tall as I am, with thick muscles. I bet she could bench-press my weight. Wolf forms of any kind- natural or were- are not meant to carry people like this, but she manages a faster speed than I could achieve on my aching feet, whipping through the cold forest deftly. My eyes water from the wind. I have no choice but to bury my face in her fur.
She slows as we approach the back patio of the packhouse. I slip off of her, feeling infantilized, not eager for the reminder of the fact that I am relatively small. It's stupid, but it's a blow to my ego. Especially since my mate is masculinity incarnate.
Sierra shifts back into her human form, shrugging an arm around me. Misty links herself to my other side, whispering sweet nonsense to me about how this will all be figured out, how I'm going to get a good meal and a hot bath and we will work on my plight tomorrow.
There are some people gathered on the patio. Darla, our pack's beta, and my father spring forward from the group. I look at Darla, ignoring my father. "I'm sorry, Darla. I didn't think my father would send out a search party."
"Your father didn't," Darla replies. She is a thin, hardened woman of the woods, with dexterous hands and enough stamina for week-long hunting trips in her human form. She is a few years older than our alpha, April, but the two of them planned the births of their children so they would be the same age, and could assume their positions in the pack at the same time. Darla's daughter, the future beta of our pack, is a wiry, quiet girl named Megan. On the patio, I see April's mate, William, standing beside their daughter Sandra. In ten years, when she is twenty years old, Sandra will become the alpha of our pack. I see William nudge Sandra forward, urging her to join Darla and Megan, to witness this demonstration of solving problems in the pack.
Me. I'm a problem in the pack. William wants his daughter to learn from my mistakes. I'm a teaching opportunity to them.
"I organized the search party. Don't run off in the forest again," Darla says, resting a hand on Sandra's shoulder as she approaches us. The future alpha is a happy, confident child, but she's very sleepy, her eyes half-closed as she looks between Darla and me. I think she was woken up for this. "But I'm not here to reprimand you. We're all glad you're safe, Ethan. What's going on?"
There is a reason it's our beta talking to me instead of our alpha. April is still not here. I don't know where she is, and it isn't my place to ask, but this is important because it means Darla has been left in charge. At this moment, she is serving as the alpha, and I must regard her as such.
"I got upset because my father was angry that my mate is a man," I say in a quiet but clear voice, not wanting to broadcast my father's transgressions quite yet. I'll let him try to apologize first.
Darla looks to my father, raising an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. Beside me, Sierra stiffens. Misty eyes my father with a glimmer of distrust on her pretty face.
"I'm not upset he was a man, Ethan," my father begins immediately, seeming alarmed by the implication and annoyed with me for thinking it. "I'm upset because he's... he's... I'm upset because you tell me all the time how hard he is to get along with."
"Your feelings don't matter right now," Darla tells my father flatly. She gestures to the people on the porch. Her faded ginger hair shines silvery in the moonlight. "Ethan is beloved by this pack. His soulmate might not be what any of us were expecting, but I wouldn't think I'd have to explain the randomness of the mate bond to someone with alpha blood." Without waiting for a response from my father, Darla steps to me. She pulls me into a hug. I think a normal human woman with Darla's personality would rather lose a finger than hug someone, but werewolves are much more affectionate than humans. It's our pack instincts. Keeps us together.
So I rest my head on her shoulder, soaking in her comfort, allowing myself to think that maybe, somehow, things will be okay.