Felix nods jerkily, gathering up the crumpled tissues. Then he mops the floor, lets Kade wipe his soles off. Kade sighs, tucking away all his thoughts about the past.
When Kade steps up to the door, Felix says, “It was never your fault.”
Kade looks back at him, but Felix has turned away, tidying things on the back shelf. Kade can’t see his eyes through all that blond hair, and he stops himself from rounding the counter to pull his omega close.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks instead.
“Yeah.” Felix nods, his shoulders drooping. “See you.”
When he rides away that night, it feels as though he’s leaving part of himself behind.
He finds Susan alone at the counter the next morning. Kade peers down the empty aisles. “Where is he?”
She sighs, eyeing the stuffed giraffe in his hand. “He took a half-day. No, don’t look like that—he’s fine. Just said he needed some time alone.”
“Oh.” Kade breathes past the sudden anxiety in his chest, relaxing his grip on the giraffe. Felix is fine. “Just thought I’d see him here today. That’s all.”
“Had a fight?”
He shrugs. “I guess.” Except it wasn’t really one. Felix hadn’t wanted to discuss the past, and Kade is just now coming to terms with the fact that they might not ever regain what they had. “When’s he coming back?”
“I don’t know.” Susan looks at the clock, pursing her lips. “Maybe one o’clock. He’ll avoid Rick if he can.”
“Yeah, I can see him doing that.” Kade stalks back to the counter, looking down at the giraffe’s innocent eyes.
It’s the one he bought a while ago, back when they were texting pictures on the phone. It’s been sitting on his desk, waiting for a good time to move into Felix’s place. Kade brought it in today as an apology, hoping it would make Felix smile.
“If you want, you could leave it here. I’ll hand it over. Unless you’d rather give it to him yourself.” Susan shrugs.
Kade sucks in a deep breath. Maybe Felix won’t have any use for him, or the giraffe. Felix knows what he needs. So Kade sets the toy on the counter, leaving it with the burden of his hopes. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Susan picks the giraffe up, looking it in the eye. “It’s cute. I think he’ll like it.”
If Felix remembers the plushie murder from three months ago, then yeah, he definitely will.
Kade turns, breathing in the heavy summer air as he steps out of the store.
37
Kade 18 Years Ago
The first time Kade thinks about kissing Felix, they’re twelve, and Felix is lying flat on the lawn, a sketchpad of animals in front of him.
Kade has been watching movies at night, with his parents, and sometimes, the people in those movies kiss. Last night, an alpha had kissed an omega, and the omega had slapped him for it. It had made Kade cringe, pulling his knees up to his chest. He doesn’t want to be slapped like that.
So he lies next to Felix on the cool grass, watching his omega sideways. Felix’s mouth looks pink and soft. And Kade thinks about touching it, except he doesn’t want Felix to look at him like some kind of sick monster.
Instead, he throws his head back and sighs. “I think boys are better than girls.”
Felix glances over, kicking his feet in the grass. “How come?”
Because you’re a boy. You’re better than girls. Or any other boy. “They’re just better,” Kade says, his heart thudding like a drum. Will Felix want to hear it if he says I like you? But Felix already knows, doesn’t he, if Kade hangs around with him so much? “I don’t like girls.”
“I like your mom.” Felix grins, blond hair falling into his eyes. He sketches the finishing touches on a rabbit, then flips the page. “And I like your dad. And Chris and Sam.”
Kade waits for him to go on, his pulse quickening. But Felix doesn’t say I like you.
He deflates, plucking blades of grass from the ground, shredding them. Maybe he just thinks I’m a good friend. “Yeah?”
“It’s better than being home,” Felix says. “I like Taylor. And James, the butler.”
“What about your dad?”
Felix looks down at his sketchpad, shrugging. “I love him, I guess.”
“You guess? Don’t you know?” Because Kade loves his parents and his brothers, and maybe Felix. He can’t imagine not loving his dad. But the mayor also compares Felix to his brother, tells Felix he’s not worth much if all he can do is draw. Kade doesn’t like him. Alastor Henry doesn’t like Kade, either.
Felix rolls his pencil in his fingers. “I love him,” he says, but his eyes are dark. “Sometimes I think he doesn’t love me.”
Kade doesn’t ask why. He scoots over to Felix, nudging his side. “I love you,” Kade says. “Is that enough?”
His bondmate cracks a smile, looking down at his sketchpad. “I think so,” he says, drawing ovals onto the paper. “I love you, too.”
And Kade’s heart soars into the clouds. He lies on the grass, closing his eyes with a smile.
When he looks back a minute later, Felix has fallen asleep next to him. On the sketchpad are two boys, holding hands, and under them, Felix has written Kade & Felix.
Kade squirms up close to Felix, pulling him into his arms.
38
Felix Present Day
Felix drags his feet into the store, sighing as he ducks into blessed shade. The AC brushes cool against his skin, and he sniffs—no sign of the manager, but there’s a lingering trace of cedar and pine. His stomach squeezes.
“Kade dropped by earlier,” Susan says, plucking a giraffe off the register. “He left this.”
Felix takes the giraffe into his hands. It’s soft, with bean-filled hoofs, and it smiles adorably up at him. Actually, the giraffe is the murderer. You shouldn’t let them fool you.
Kade had left this for him. After last night, he wasn’t sure if Kade would return, but the giraffe says everything
