Out foxed, p.12
Out Foxed, page 12
If he’d been trying to crack him about what they had going on, he now realized it wouldn’t go smoothly.
Poor guy doesn’t need me adding fuel to the fire, he thought as he dropped his gaze to the table. He’s going to have enough explaining to do to Henley.
Michael Jackson’s “Will You Be There” began to play, and Decker returned to their table with a proud grin.
“Not Ace of Base,” he said matter-of-factly.
“No.” Trace groaned and laid his head upon the table, his voice becoming muffled. “But it had to be that song, didn’t it?”
“What is wrong with that song?” Decker stared at him in bewilderment, and then shifted his gaze to him. “Rane, don’t you like this song?”
“Well, I can’t say I’ve listened to it very much, but I do like the king of pop.”
“Thank you! And he was brilliant during the halftime show at the Super Bowl this year, wasn’t he? It was a great show.”
“I can’t deny that,” he responded, eyes moving to his brother. “I had to watch it by myself this year,”—he added—“because somebody had other plans.”
He watched as Trace visibly tensed, and then, much to his amusement, Decker’s face began to turn red.
“Y-yeah. I usually watch it with Henley,” the caught-off-guard fox replied. “But she wanted to do something different with her dad...and I figured I could just...watch it by myself, too.”
For some reason, he just didn’t believe the guy had watched it alone—he didn’t believe it at all.
“Plus,”—Decker added excitedly, though somewhat nervously—“This song’s going to be on the soundtrack of a movie coming out in July. It’s called Free Willy. Have you seen the trailer for it yet?”
“I have to be honest with you, Decker,” he said, leaning forward and propping an elbow against the table. “I don’t have a lot of time for television. Well, with work and all, you know.”
“Oh, n-no. I get that. I do.” He nodded vigorously, eyes shifting to Trace, who still had his face hidden. “But you know, I mean, it just seems to be everywhere. It’s going to be a big movie—and it should be. It’s about a whale.”
Okay, now he just felt bad for him. The kid was sweating bullets, and Trace’s anxiety was near the point of making him nauseous.
Thankfully, Henley emerged from the bathroom, and Decker cleared his throat as he nudged Trace’s side.
He popped his head up and glanced at him briefly, like he knew he already knew, and then he moved his eyes to Henley.
She didn’t look at any of them as she approached the table.
“There you are,” he said, scooting over so she could sit beside him. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, sitting down and resting her hands on her lap. “Lady stuff.”
It disappointed him to hear her tell such a lie. It was common knowledge that male shifters always knew when female shifters were on their cycle. He would have caught up on that scent already—and there was no scent coming from her aside from her natural one, which was mouthwatering on its own.
If she were on her cycle, he’d be acting and thinking a lot stupider than he was at the moment.
“Aw, sorry, Hens.” Decker smiled sympathetically, but it went unnoticed by her. “Maybe a strawberry milkshake will make you feel better? They have those here. I ordered ya one.”
She didn’t even so much as give him a glance, or a thank you for that matter, as Hettie returned with a tray of drinks, and the menus she’d promised.
“Here we go, kids,” she said excitedly, carefully placing each drink on the table. “Just look over the menus and let me know when you’re ready to order, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” He nodded to her appreciatively and reached for a straw.
“Thank God,” Trace muttered, tearing the paper away from his straw. “I’m so thirsty I could drink a gallon of water right now.”
“Me, too,” Decker agreed, sipping at his drink before lifting his eyes to Henley. “Aren’t you going to drink your shake?”
She responded by gently pushing the glass away with two fingers.
“No, thank you.”
The hurt on the male fox’s face did not go unnoticed by him.
Damn.
“Oh. Well...do you want something else? They’ve got root beer, or—”
“I don’t want anything,” she replied softly.
“N-not even food?” He questioned, blinking quickly. “Look here, Henley. It says the special is grilled cheese with tomato soup.” He rubbed his stomach and groaned. “Sounds great, doesn’t it?”
He honestly felt bad for the guy—he was making so much effort to talk to his best friend, and she was acting like he didn’t exist.
It had to be doing a number on him, especially when he wasn’t aware he’d done anything wrong.
She didn’t respond at all this time.
Decker’s smile faded and he gave Trace a questioning glance.
Trace shrugged his shoulders, his expression saying, ‘Your guess is as good as mine’.
God, he could relate to that. But not now. He knew the truth behind her behavior, and no matter how badly he wanted to shake her out of it, he knew it wouldn’t do a bit of good.
The confrontation was going to happen regardless, and he could only hope it happened before they went any further.
The mission was dangerous enough already; if she was distracted by her anger, and Decker was distracted by his confusion, it would be a recipe for disaster.
I wish I’d asked Mr. Crevan more.
“You guys eat,” she said, after what felt like an eternity. She stood up and pushed some messy red hair away from her face.
That simple action alone was nearly enough to get his engine revving—again.
“I’m going to go stretch my legs. I feel restless.”
“Aw, no food?” Decker jumped up from his seat and nodded towards the door. “I’ll come with you; I need to stretch my legs, too.”
“No.”
Her response came out bitterly, and it caused all three of them to stare at her in surprise, but no one was more surprised than Decker.
“N-no?” He stammered. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down quickly as he eyed her nervously, as if he didn’t quite know how to respond to that.
“No,” she repeated, a bit gentler this time. “I’d really just like to be alone. I need to think. Sorry.”
With that, she left the restaurant.
Decker stood there awkwardly, as if he didn’t know what to do next. His cheeks reddened, undoubtedly from embarrassment, and he finally slid back into his seat.
“What did I do?” He asked, his voice thick with emotion.
“I’m sure it’s probably just her cycle,” Trace offered. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
“He’s probably right,” he lied. Tapping his knuckles against the tabletop again, he met Decker’s sad gaze. “Girls are weird when it comes to that sort of thing, huh?”
“I guess,” he mumbled with a shrug. “But she’s usually a lot nicer to me.”
“Just give her some time,” he replied, glancing out the window.
He watched her head in the direction of the car, his eyes on her until she disappeared from sight. Though it would be hard to do, he needed to give her the space she obviously needed.
“Let’s eat,” he suggested, trying to sound a little more cheerful. “We’ve still got a long ways to go.”
In every sense of the statement, they really did.
After they were finished eating, it took them about fifteen minutes to get away from Hettie; that woman was a talker.
They headed back to the car, bellies full and minds clear. Decker had a to-go bag with a hamburger inside for Henley in one hand, and her strawberry shake in the other. He seemed somewhat happier than he had when she blew him off, and he hoped they could be on their way to mending things when she saw how considerate her best friend was being.
Everybody deserved a best friend like that.
‘Have you forgotten what he did to her?’ His cat questioned. ‘He betrayed her, with your brother!’
Something told him the beast wasn’t going to let him forget that. Ever.
‘Not our business.’
“Do you think we’ll make it there today?” Trace asked, showing his first sign of interest since...well, ever. “Greensboro can’t be that far away, can it?”
“We’re still about five hours out. If traffic isn’t too bad, we can make it in about—”
“Where’s Henley?”
Decker’s question distracted him from the map he was creating in his mind, and his eyes instantly fell on the car.
It was empty.
His stomach twisted into anxious knots as he glanced at the other two and frowned.
Something told him her leg stretching excuse had bigger reasons behind it than just avoiding her best friend, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
He didn’t like it at all.
“I don’t smell her,” Decker said, worry evident. “Her scent has faded; she’s been gone for a while.”
Shit.
“Get in. We’ll find her. Just keep your eyes peeled.”
But that wasn’t going to work either, he soon found out, as he started the car and took off. Within a mile, there was a horrid thumping noise—a flat tire.
“Oh my god, are you kidding?” Decker leaned over the front seat and stared at the dashboard, as if that was going to help. “How the heck did we get a flat tire? I don’t remember us hitting anything.”
“Neither do I,” he mumbled.
But he knew what had happened. He didn’t need anyone to tell him. Their flat tire was due to a furious redhead—what was she playing at?
He eased onto the side of the road and parked, reminding himself to remain calm.
She’s fine, he thought as he got out and examined the tires. There has to be a reasonable explanation for this.
But was there, really?
What sense did it make to put their vehicle in jeopardy, and for her to take off on her own?
He understood why she was upset in the first place, but what had he done to deserve to be left behind, too?
‘She doesn’t want them to go,’ his cat speculated. ‘Maybe she is showing mercy and trying to prevent their deaths, regardless of their betrayal.’
God, he was getting sick of hearing that word.
‘You’re going to have to stop talking about them. That’s my brother, damn it.’
He waited a few seconds for the beast to reply, but when no answer came, he nodded in satisfaction.
“We have to get this fixed,” Trace said as he shut the car door and walked towards him. “And get it fixed, fast. What if something happened to her?”
“You’re suddenly concerned about her well-being?” He asked, arching a brow.
“Of course, I am concerned about her,” his brother replied with a roll of his eyes. “This was her adventure anyway, remember?”
“Sure, Trace. If you call going on a suicide mission—which means somebody could die—an ‘adventure’.”
“You know what I mean, Rane. She’s in unfamiliar territory and she’s by herself. Canidthropes don’t fair well on their own, especially a female. And if she’s on her cycle, that’s worse. What if there are other shifters around? You know they will smell her.”
He’d been fumbling with the trunk of the car while his brother rambled on, but when he heard that, no sooner than he got it opened, he slammed it back down.
“We both know damn good and well you didn’t smell anything on her either,” he growled, glaring at him. “She’s not cycling, Trace—not that you’d actually notice if she was.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you know exactly what I mean.”
He closed the distance between them and towered over him, unsure if he could keep his frustrations bottled up anymore. Though he understood what his little brother had gone through thanks to the vision, he was still upset because Henley was upset. He had poorly executed his method of breaking up with her.
He’d hurt her so deeply, and now he felt like she was growing distant from her best friend when she probably needed him the most.
He was blindingly mad for her, and the anger building up inside of him was about to come out, whether he wanted it to or not.
“Why couldn’t you just tell her the truth?”
He screamed the question rather than actually asking it, and Trace’s eyes grew as big as saucers. He visibly shook from the thunder of his voice, and took a step away from him.
“What...what are you talking about, Rane?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Trace. Don’t lie to me.”
This was not going as he had planned. Had he even actually planned it?
It was one thing for Henley to confront Decker, but for him to confront Trace? No, he hadn’t intended to do that at all. At least now right now.
But as he thought about the vision of the future he’d seen, he had to wonder if he’d ever have another opportunity; now was all they had.
“I know about you and Decker,” he said, his voice a bit softer this time. “Henley knows about you, too.”
The color drained from his brother’s face, and try as he might, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going through the boy’s mind.
The fear, though, he could feel that. It seemed to pour off of him, copious waves of it, which then slammed into his own body. It made him feel like the worst person on earth as he experienced it.
“You...know?”
“Yes.” He averted his gaze, unable to stand the pure horror in his eyes.
If he were him, he’d be scared, too. Henley was liable to cause bodily harm.
“H-how long?”
“Not even twenty-four hours, Trace. Well, for her. I’ve known just a bit longer, but not by much.”
For the first time he could recall, Trace was speechless. So terrified and still in that moment, he was.
But the reasoning behind his reaction, however, was a shock.
“Do you hate me for it, Rane?”
“For hurting Henley? I am disappointed in you, but I could never hate you.”
“N-no. Not that. I mean, yes, it’s bad, but,”—he swallowed hard and shoved his hands into his pockets—“Do you hate me for being...different?”
“What?” His eyebrows shot up as he looked at him, bewildered. “You think I’d hate you for that?”
He dropped his gaze to the ground and slumped against the car. It was evident he was feeling all sorts of emotions at the moment—he could still feel them, too.
“Everyone else would,” he said quietly. “It’s not normal.”
As confusing as it appeared to be, he couldn’t help but feel protective of his only sibling, and he had to push aside whatever else he felt in that moment. He needed to comfort him in spite of it all.
Henley or no Henley, Trace was his blood and he loved him. It didn’t matter if he was gay or straight, or if he could shift into a freaking bunny rabbit.
He loved him.
“Hey.” His voice became significantly kinder as he placed his hands on his shoulders, waiting patiently for him to meet his gaze. When he finally did, he gave him a small grin. “Who really knows what’s normal anyway, huh? You’re just you, brother. You’re Trace. And I could never ever hate you.”
As tears shimmered in his brother’s eyes, he was momentarily transported back in time. He could remember moments like this, from when they were little. When Trace would get hurt, whom did he run to for comfort?
Him.
Who wiped away his tears and told him it would be all right?
He did.
When storms came rolling in and thunder rattled their house, whom did he run to?
Him.
When their parents had died not so long ago, whom had he sought out to comfort him, to hold him as he cried tears of devastating heartache?
Him.
And now, as they faced one another in one of the craziest situations they’d ever been challenged with, who did he seek to tell him it was going to be okay, no matter what?
Him.
He wrapped him up in his arms and pulled him close, easily resting his chin atop his head. His eyes closed and he sighed, wishing he could take away the pain he felt—he hated that he was hurting so much.
“I was afraid you would hate me,” Trace whispered, his voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t...”
He struggled to find his voice. It was lost due to the emotions thickening in his throat, but after a few attempts, he finally found it again.
“You can always tell me anything, brother,” he replied, his voice still soft and low. “I know things have been hard lately, and I know we haven’t seen eye-to-eye, but had I known...”
“I was being a coward, Rane. But you can’t blame me for that.”
He pulled away to stare at him, a look in his eyes that had never been there before. What was that look?
“People like me and Decker...the world doesn’t like us. They...”—he squeezed his eyes shut as tears began to fall—“...kill people like us.”
Chills ran all over him. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt angry. He felt scared. He felt so many things, and still, he knew they couldn’t compare to whatever his little brother had been going through, for God only knew how long.
And he’d gone through them completely alone.
Again, he pulled him in. His jawline was tight as he gripped the back of his head, as if that would somehow protect him from whatever knowledge he possessed on these killings; as if he could make it all go away.
“I’d like to see them try,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you, Trace. They’d have to go through me first.”
It was then that he realized he hadn’t necessarily processed the vision. He hadn’t given in to the idea of his little brother dying, and now that he had, there was no way in Hell he was going to let it happen.
If Henley really had done something to sabotage the outcome of the future, he needed to do what he could to help her. Trace and Decker’s lives depended on it.
Help me know what to do, he prayed, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. I don’t think I can do this on my own.
