Wesley (2 page)

Wes almost blew up with the force of his anger. He jerked his arm free. “How the fuck was I supposed to do that? Huh? How many times did I email or call or text, like you said? You know you answered on average one in five times. One in five, Sul. Think about that.”

Wes had, and he’d become angrier and angrier, even as his loneliness had increased. He’d never been exactly outgoing, and had preferred to stay in his room playing games when he didn’t have to work at the gas station. But he’d missed Sully, missed his teasing and practical jokes and his companionship when Sully would make him come out and be sociable.

“Fuck this.” Wes was done. This was all too much to handle. He turned to head for the door. His family couldn’t force him to stay here. If they thought shipping him to Sully—sending him to San Antonio from Colorado—against his will meant he was going to just be a good boy and keep his head down like he was ashamed, they were wrong.

Even though he was ashamed. And Sully was right. The night he was busted with drugs wasn’t the first night he’d bought them. The ironic thing was, if his parents or even his little sister Sheila had been paying any attention to him at all, they’d have noticed the change in his scent. Wes had. He’d had an acrid, almost too bitter aroma to him by the time he’d been caught by their mom. A month later and he almost smelled like himself again.

Eau de Slacker. Wes snorted at his silly joke. He veered around the couch table and was three feet from the door when he felt it again. That ominous wave of power prickled over his skin, stronger than before. Wes’ leopard mewled in fear and he shook all the way to his toes as his knees buckled. Goddamn Bobby.

“You ain’t runnin’ away from here, or from what you’ve done.”

“What’ve I done?” Wes rasped, fear ramping up his pulse so that his heart raced to the point that he saw spots dancing in front of him.

“You don’t cut your brother like that and haul ass like a coward. You don’t dump all the blame on him like a toddler throwin’ a tantrum. You don’t act like a child when you’re claiming you’re a man.”

With each word Bobby spoke, Wes slumped down further until by the time Bobby stopped, Wes was curled up in a fetal position on the floor.

“Bobby—”

“Sully, chill. I ain’t gonna break him.”

Wes wished he could see Sully’s face, see if he was angry at being told that or if he was okay with it. If he was on Wes’ side or on Bobby’s.

“I know you won’t, but this is between me and Wes,” Sully said, still calm as freakin’ Yoda. There was Wes’ answer, too. He’d been an idiot to think Sully would stand up for him.

Wes tuned out the conversation as he curled into a tighter ball. His gut ached and he craved the ease a handful of phennies or sleeping pills would give him. He hadn’t got around to trying meth or heroin, nothing like that. He was afraid he would have, though. Drugs had smothered so many of his emotions, the lonely feelings and the anger, but they’d also left him dirty and empty inside. That had never been what Wes had wanted in the first place, when he’d put the first few pills in his mouth.

No, Wes had discovered prescription barbiturates purely by accident, when a dealer had come into the gas station late one night. Wes had complained about having problems sleeping when he went from working nights to days, and the guy had offered him a solution. It was embarrassing how easily he’d let himself be convinced, and he was damned lucky he’d never been arrested for buying the drugs.

Shifters were immune to a lot of things, but Wes had discovered that if he took enough of some drugs, just like if he drank enough alcohol, he could get stoned, or high, whatever. What he hadn’t expected was to become addicted, not after four or five uses. He hadn’t had the horrific withdrawals his parents had worried about, but sometimes the need for the drug slammed into him so hard he ached from it.

He didn’t realise he was shaking almost to the point of it being a convulsion until Sully’s strident voice penetrated his misery. Wes had wanted to shatter that calm, and he had. Sully sounded terrified. Wes didn’t know what the problem was. He hadn’t used since he’d been busted. Despite his gnawing craving, he wouldn’t use again.

Because Wes knew something he hadn’t shared. He’d come too close to losing his soul to drugs. His leopard spirit wouldn’t have remained in him for much longer had he not been caught and forced to see the wisdom in quitting. It was that knowledge that would overwhelm him, sneak up from nowhere and shred him inside, much like it was doing now.

And Wes could bitch and throw accusations wherever he wanted to, but he knew the truth. There was only one person responsible for his stupidity, and that was him.

“Jesus, Bobby, what’s happening?” Sully yelled, groping all over Wes. “He’s pale and covered in sweat and shaking—”

“Did he get a hold of something?” Bobby asked.

Wes tried to snarl, but his teeth kept chattering. Sully did it for him. “No, you ass, he didn’t. You were right there, watching him. He just dropped when you sprung your mighty alpha powers on him.”

Some part of Wes’ brain registered that Sully sounded furious, but he figured that might be a hallucination. Those happened on occasion, although usually they occurred at night when he couldn’t sleep.

“I don’t have super powers,” Bobby drawled. “I didn’t zap him with a laser beam or whatever.”

“Bobby, if you’re not going to help, go chase your tail,” Sully snapped. “And thanks for not letting him run off,” he added with a bit less ire.

“How ‘bout I go get Remus? ‘Cause I don’t think this is a reaction to my mighty alpha powers.” Bobby didn’t sound worried at all. He sounded just as he always did, except for those moments when he’d been ready to rip Wes’ head off.

Wes shivered again and bit his tongue.

Sully’s face was suddenly right in his, almost nose to nose with Wes. “Wes, Bobby’s going to call and have Remus get ready to be brought over. I don’t know if you’ve ever met him, but Remus is the shaman of the pack here. He’s brilliant but very simple about it.” Sully stroked Wes’ hair, and it was only then that Wes realised Sully had to be lying on the floor too. For some reason, that made Wes’ eyes water with tears.

“I am sorry, so sorry,” Sully murmured, his voice cracking.

Wes had carried around his pain and anger, justified or not, for almost two years. He knew he shouldn’t have let it control him, but had been unable to stop it. “You were the only friend I had, Sul, and you left me.” Oh God, he really was pathetic. Wes sobbed then, ashamed of so many things, and sure they’d never be righted again.

How much time passed as he lay on the floor trying to keep himself from falling into a million pieces, Wes didn’t know. Sully had stopped talking, though, and was sniffling irregularly when suddenly someone else touched Wes’ shoulder.

The firm hand seemed to radiate out warmth and peace, two things Wes was in dire need of. His hearing clouded with a loud buzzing as the feelings of comfort increased.

Wes blinked and saw that Sully had got up at some point, but still that touch remained on his shoulder, soothing him inside. Eventually he rolled his head and found himself looking into a withered brown face, deeply lined with wrinkles, and the kindest almost-black eyes he’d ever seen.

“You will be okay, boy.”

Wes couldn’t even be offended by the boy part, not when the man looking at him had to be close to a hundred, if not in actual years, then in his soul at least. A kind smile spread on the man’s lips and Wes soon found himself returning it.

“I am Remus, shaman of the San Antonio wolf shifter pack. Would you like to come stay with me for a few days? I can help you find peace.”

Normally, Wes didn’t think of himself as the trusting or naïve kind—although some people would argue that last one with him. Or maybe they’d just call him stupid, and he’d have to agree.

But he knew he could trust Remus. He felt it inside, and his leopard was purring happily under the man’s touch.

“There are no easy instant fixes, but peace is possible. You have to look first in here.” Remus moved his hand, trailing warmth and tingles all the way down to where he then pressed on Wes’ chest, over his heart. “Be honest with yourself, and find out what has poisoned you, and why you allowed it. Then begin healing.”

“I—” Wes’ throat was too dry, as if he’d cried all the moisture out of his body. He swallowed and Remus eased his hand up to cup Wes’ neck. Wes didn’t know whether to be creeped out or grateful when the parched sensation ceased, but he went with the latter. “It’s not just me here.” Wes touched his chest. “I used drugs and sometimes I want them again, so bad.”

Remus didn’t appear to be surprised or disgusted. He canted his head and hummed as he stroked Wes from throat to chest. There was nothing sexual in the touch, only reassurance and that tingling warmth.

“You aren’t a lost cause, Wes. I do know some of what has happened to you. Your grandmother is a good friend of mine.” Remus held up a finger when Wes started to talk. “But I am no one to judge another. That is not my place, and besides, I know a good person—which you are, despite your fears otherwise—is harder on themselves than anyone else could be.” He leant down and whispered, “Who are you truly angry with?”

And despite his earlier claims, Wes knew the truth, and it scared him to his core. “Me.” Because if he hated himself, then what was the point to his existence?

“And many people love you,” Remus said quietly. “You have little faith in yourself. We will start there, perhaps.” He stood and Wes found himself pulled to his feet by the surprisingly strong old man. “Come. Let us get you to neutral ground.”

“Neutral ground?” Sully sputtered. “What does that mean? I’m not the enemy!”

Remus nodded. “Indeed you aren’t, but nor are you his friend.”

Neither Sully nor Bobby argued, although Bobby glowered. But Wes knew Remus was right. Sully wasn’t his friend just then. The two years since he’d moved away and hooked up with Bobby had eradicated most of the bond he and Wes had shared when they’d been younger.

“In time, you two can repair the damage done. For now, give me and Wes a few days, then perhaps, rather than having him stay in the house, you should trust him with the garage apartment and some privacy.” Remus didn’t wait for an answer, he simply turned and steered Wes outside. “Family means well, but they do not always know how to help. Indeed, they can make things so much worse.”

Did it make him a traitor to agree? Wes slanted the old shaman a look and saw only kindness in his eyes. “Yeah, I guess. I didn’t make it easy to help me, either.”

Remus made that humming sound again before he spoke. “Yes, but there is too much anger and hurt between you and your brother.”

“It’s just me,” Wes clarified. He felt so tired, and his muscles, what there were of them, were weak as if he’d worked out for hours. “It’s just me.”

“No.”

Wes almost stumbled at the forcefulness and certainty that one little word conveyed.

Remus stopped and Wes looked everywhere but at him. His brother and Bobby lived right on the outskirts of the pack property. There were mesquites and drought-dead grass, cactus and grass burrs all over. It was kind of pretty in a desolate way.

“You do not want to hear me, or believe what I say. You love your brother and want to keep idolising him, except you cannot. He failed you and it broke your heart.”

“It did not.” Wes had meant it to come out adamant, angry even, but his protest sounded feeble.

Remus peered at him with those eyes and Wes would have sworn the man could see right into his thoughts. Remus seemed to know him better than Wes knew himself. “It isn’t uncommon to idolise our older brothers. We measure ourselves by their standards, and want their approval and love. We want to be everything they are to us, but what we fail to realise is that they too are only human.” Remus’ lips quirked. “Or shifter, as the case may be. Still, they make mistakes, and they hurt people, and often it is the people who worship them that get hurt.”

Wes could have denied it, but he’d have been lying again. He wondered, though. “You have an older brother?”

Remus nodded. “Two. Both alive, in case you are wondering. I’m not as old as you might think.” He grinned and it was rather disconcerting to realise the old man was attractive with that long white hair and distinguished features. “Surprised you, no?”

Wes nodded dumbly, snapping shut his mouth. He’d not realised he was gawping until the breeze dried his mouth out.

Remus laughed, a rich, warm sound that encouraged anyone around to join in. “I get that often, as do my brothers. We are from a generation that spent most of our lives outside, and sunscreen was unheard of.”

“Would shifters really need it?” Wes asked, curious even though it was probably a dumb question, considering everything they’d discussed.

Remus nodded. “Oh yes. We cannot get many diseases, it’s true, but cancer is one that can kill us as surely as it can a human. While I’ve only known of one shifter to die from melanoma, it can happen. We have more protection against the sun’s damage, but too much can still hurt us. I am probably sun-proofed, like a piece of worn leather.”

“Huh.” Wes hadn’t ever been accused of being a chatterbox, or a brilliant conversationalist, and he obviously wasn’t going to start being one now.

“I can only keep you with me for a few days. Then there will be someone coming who must be assured of his safety. But I think, in those few days, you and I can make some grand progress.” Remus tilted his head and gestured for Wes to walk. “If you will be honest with yourself and me. You do want to get better, don’t you, Wesley?”