His patient’s hair dried lighter than Gibson expected, a tousled jaw-length mane of warm browns and antique gold. His eyes were dark, a soulful burnt umber touched with glimpses of pain that seemed to live within their depths, rather than newly visited from Zach’s recent injuries. The man’s lips drew Gibson’s attention time and time again. They held a plump ripeness, a blush berry fullness of a mouth made for sin. When Zach’s white teeth dimpled his lower lip, more than likely to hold back a small cry of pain when he barked his knee against the coffee table, Gibson had to look away. There was something about the man Ellis chased down, some viscous connection between them, a connection Gibson couldn’t risk even if every fiber of his being wanted to.
“The couch is fine,” Zach said, slowly easing down into one of the dining room chairs. Flashes of discomfort changed his face, straining his thoughtful expression. “I could barely walk across the floor right now. Don’t think I want to attempt stairs. Besides, I don’t want to kick you out of your bed.”
“It’s not a problem,” Gibson replied, setting a cup of hot tea in front of Zach. “On nights when Ellis is restless, I usually crash down here. You sure you’re okay? You’re not looking too steady. Maybe we should try to get you into town. And if we keep this up, we’re going to end up sounding like those two chipmunks. How about this—we’ll get some soup and tea in you first, then if you feel like shit, I’ll try to take you down the hill. I don’t… it’s different for me and Ellis… we heal differently. I know there’s not a lot they can do, but… I’m kind of talking myself into taking you down the hill.”
“Mostly, I’m sore.” He grimaced, shifting in his seat. “Food sounds nice. I intended to eat when I got back from my walk, so it’s been a while since I’ve had something in my stomach. If I can’t keep it down, then maybe we should go. I don’t know how bad it is outside. I don’t want to risk your life—or mine—when it isn’t necessary. My mom raised a stupid kid, but it wasn’t me.”
“Yeah, I say that about my brother all the time too.” Gibson glanced over at Ellis, but his brother appeared to be fast asleep. “I’m not sure Mom ever was convinced I wasn’t the stupid one.”
The canned soup could only be called edible at best, but it didn’t seem like Zach minded the salty broth or the pasty stars floating in it. He ate slowly, stopping a few times to sip at his tea, then pushed the bowl away after eating most of it. Gibson refilled their cups, smiling to himself when Zach’s eyes widened slightly as he added six heaping spoonfuls of sugar to his own tea.
Rattling the spoon about to dissolve the sugar, Gibson said, “Sweets aid in fueling our metabolism. It’s hard to get sugar into Ellis, so if you see me feeding him a couple of bars of chocolate, don’t get alarmed. Made the mistake once of doing that in front of the grocery store, and some lady ripped my head off about chocolate being poisonous to dogs.”
“Is this the time that I’m supposed to ask you about your brother and how you’re not going to kill me?” Zach looked over the rim of his cup. “Because right now, my brain is overloaded and confused… um… and I don’t think all of it is just from the concussion.”
There was a giant elephant in the room—or rather a giant black wolf—one Gibson really didn’t want to look at or poke. Sitting across of a man who’d brought to life every desire Gibson thought he’d buried, he wasn’t prepared to have a discussion about his bloodline or Ellis. Over the course of his life, he had to have that particular conversation with only three people, all of whom, like Zach, saw something they had never imagined they would ever see. As far as he knew, there was only one person Ellis had that conversation with, the hard-eyed man who’d brought him back from the wars in the desert, so dealing with Zach, no matter how pleasant the man looked, was a necessary evil Gibson wasn’t ready to face. From the expression on Zach’s face, a resolute, unwavering acceptance and curiosity, their talk was going to be a long one, and Gibson knew he wouldn’t be able to convince Zach that the less he knew, the better it would be.
But he sure as hell was going to try.
“I don’t know really what you expect to hear. I don’t know if anything that I say is really going to change things for you,” Gibson started. “You’re going to walk away, remember? And if you decide not to say something about Ellis—”
“Look, I know you don’t know me, so whatever comes out of my mouth, to you it’s just air, but I not only won’t say anything, I can’t.” Zach set his tea down, then rubbed at his face, mumbling past the heel of his hand. “When I was a kid—about ten—I got lost in Yellowstone during one of my family’s camping trips. I’d gotten mad at something my mother said, I actually don’t even remember why I was pissed off, but I stomped off in a huff. It was stupid, and it got worse because it was close to dark and my family figured I would just turn around and come back. But I didn’t.
“You do stupid things when you’re a kid, because everything is black and white and you think you’re invincible—okay, maybe you’re invincible, but I sure as hell am not—so there I was, lost as shit and wandering through a place I had no business being.” He leaned across the table, his fingers nearly touching Gibson’s, and Zach looked away, toward the fire and the enormous burden Gibson carried lying before it. The flames laid a gilt burnish on Zach’s handsome features and poured a bit of honey into his soulful eyes. “I swear to God, I took six steps into the forest and it was like the world I knew disappeared, as if it never existed. I heard no one, not another human voice, and no matter which way I turned, I was the only one around. And when nighttime fell… it didn’t come slowly, more like someone yanked the sun from the sky. There was a bit of a moon, enough to give me light to see by, but everything was just silver and blue. I want to say I was scared, but that isn’t a big enough word for what I was feeling.”
“Nothing is scarier than the unknown,” Gibson agreed. Zach’s fingers trembled. Even pressed against the wooden table, there was a tremor to them, and Gibson reached out, covering Zach’s hand with his own. “I have been scared shitless quite a few times in my life, and I come armed with some pretty sharp teeth.”
“So did the wolves that found me,” Zach whispered. “When a park ranger found me the next day, he didn’t believe me. I was a short kid, and these creatures were nearly as tall as I was—scary huge with paws about the size of my head. He didn’t call me stupid, but I could see it in his face he didn’t believe me. No one believed me. And there were just two of them, these massive wolves who’d herded me down to a small stream so I could get water, then laid on top of me when it started to snow. I’d tried to fit into this hole in the cliff next to the water, and they followed me, keeping me warm. But all the time, I was terrified. Every time one of them moved, I thought, they’re going to kill me now.