The first thing River did when he woke up was reach for his phone, peering at the notification light from between gummy eyelids. The light was blinking steady blue, on and off. An anxious tingle settled up high in the back of his throat, echoed by a fluttering of butterflies in the pit of his stomach. The sensation was distantly familiar, reminding him of when he was a teenager and had performed the same sleepy grabbing maneuver every morning. He hadn’t done that in ages, mostly because he hadn’t had anything to look forward to until now.

Yes, until now. He just knew that his world was about to change.

Holding his breath, he pressed the Home button on his phone and waited for the screen to light up. The cell phone was slow to respond even though it was fairly new, a phenomenon common amongst shifters for one theorized reason or another.

The delay was only the duration of a blink, half a heartbeat, but it seemed like far longer until the image of his lock screen showed up on the display. There at the top, above the pattern grid of six dots, was Ashton’s name and a preview of the message he sent.

The words of the preview seemed to swim around in front of River’s eyes, jumbling in such a way that he couldn’t even begin to figure them out. That required a level of focus he wasn’t capable of right now, especially with those maddening tingles urging him to go forward.

He entered his pattern onto the grid and went to his messages inbox. Ashton’s text read, “Hey. It’s Ash. I haven’t changed my mind. Are you in?”

River closed his eyes and breathed a long sigh of relief. Sitting up straighter in his chair, his spine popping, he rubbed at his eyes until the fuzziness cleared. Light streamed in through his office window, illuminating his desk. He got up and went over to his computer chair, relaxing as the warm rays caressed his skin. The smell of strong coffee reached him where he sat, reminding him that he never did anything in the morning without having a cup.

Jeanine would be out there, having breakfast in the same leisurely manner as always. He didn’t think he wanted to face her when his thoughts were so full of Ash. It just seemed wrong, disrespectful to both of them and himself.

With a trembling finger, he pressed the button to call Ashton and then brought the phone up to his ear.

Each ring made his nerves rattle, until he was practically squirming in his seat from the anticipation. Six rings, seven. On the eighth, there was a click and then a long moment of silence.

“Ash?” River said. His voice rasped weakly, and he tried to clear his throat, but the lump constricting his speech wouldn’t ease. If he talked to a client like this, he’d be almost too fucking embarrassed to continue. A professional should not sound like someone going through a particularly rough patch of puberty. “Ash, are you there?”

The rough, sleep-garbled voice that greeted him was achingly familiar, having heard it often when they were just boys. Sleepovers tended to have that effect on friends, familiarizing them with the other’s routines whether they liked it or not. “Uh, yeah. Who else would it be? Why are you calling?”

River blinked, surprised at how unfriendly the other man sounded. It didn’t seem to just be tiredness. “I got your text. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Why didn’t you just text back?”

“I’ll do that next time.”

“Good. And while you’re at it, don’t clear your throat in my ear. I don’t want to hear your spit rattling around in your thick neck.”

Ouch.

Ash seemed to realize how that sounded and his tone went soft when he replied. “It was a joke, River. Lighten up.”

“I’ll also keep that in mind.”

There was a soft, raspy sound from the other end of the line, barely recognizable as a chuckle. “You’re already learning. There’s hope for you yet, you old geezer.”

River smiled a little at that. He had heard the same jokes on many occasions and had even been the one to say them, long after it stopped being funny. This morning however, the joke felt brand-new.

That being said, sometimes River wished he would go bald instead of turn gray just so it would save him some money on hair care products. Naturally, he didn’t make comments of this kind around bald clients. It was best not to take chances on things like that, since keeping their hair was very important to some men. River didn’t mind much one way or another, as long as the person in question took care of themselves.

“I’m only three years older than you,” River said. “That makes us both ancient in the eyes of the kids these days. Remember when being old meant you were respected?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

They laughed together, and it felt good, almost sinfully good.

“So, I guess this means you feel the same as I do?”

“Of course I do!” River blurted out. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. The words just kept coming and coming. “Are you kidding me? There’s nothing I’d rather do than spend time with you! It’s been so damn long since we saw each other that I almost can’t believe you’re actually here.”

Ash laughed again. “All right. I get it. I feel the same way, too. It’s just a little too early in the morning for me to properly express my feelings. How free are you today?”

River rubbed his eyes with one hand, trying to think through the plans he’d already made. “I just got divorced yesterday. I was going to head over to a storage unit and rent one so I could start moving my things out. Keep them there until I find a house.”

“Hey, why didn’t you move out of there before the actual divorce?” Ash asked, as if the question had just occurred to him.

River was no stranger to that question, just like he was no stranger to “old geezer” jokes. It took a long time before he discovered a response that could sum up all his feelings without a huge explanation. “I guess it just never felt real.”

He and Jeanine had lived together so long in misery that it just seemed natural to continue doing so. The process of divorcing had been so long and complicated that he had even started to believe that it would never be over.

Ash didn’t comment, but something told River that he understood. “So, a house? Not an apartment? You not going to go back to the bachelor lifestyle?”

There was no way that he could go back to something that he had never experienced, but he didn’t say that out loud. “I’d just prefer a house. Not sure where. Anywhere where I can get a place, just as soon as possible.”

“Sure. No work for you then?”

“I’ve dropped my hours down for now, until I’m set up somewhere else. Going to be hard to do work when I’ve got my office equipment all over the place.” River knew that he was rambling and that Ash probably didn’t care about all this.

“So, would you be free for lunch?”

“Where would you want to go?”

Ash sighed in his ear. The sound of it raised the hairs on the back of River’s neck, sent chills down his spine. He remembered the feel of that hot breath on his cheek and what exactly it had done to him, which he had tried so hard to quell for the sake of propriety. He shifted in his seat, his groin tightening. If anything, he felt more tempted now than he had back then.

“You see,” Ash muttered, “I can barely think about the next thing I’m going to say. I can’t even begin to think about lunch yet.”

“Then, call me around noon, and we’ll work something out.” River paused, and then ventured, “Or text me.”

Ash’s voice was warm, and River could almost see the smile on his lips when he spoke again. “You got it. Try not to break a hip.”

“Try not to…” His return joke was cut short as Ash hung up. Apparently, he meant that comment as a way of saying goodbye. Rubbing his eyes again, River put the phone down. It seemed like there were a whole hell of a lot of things he was going to have to get used to fast if he wanted this to work. Whatever this was.

Slow down, he reminded himself. Getting lunch, talking about old times, and catching up with each other, didn’t mean anything in the long run. They might be incompatible now.

Besides, he didn’t know if Ash felt the same way he did.

Lifting his head, he looked out the window at the neighborhood. Everything seemed peaceful and so perfect in this area, like a little piece of calm in the midst of chaos. Each house had an emerald lawn, and most of them had perfect white fences. Children frolicked through the soft grass, enjoying the weekend freedom before homework and the other demands of school life caught up to them once more on Sunday night. Somewhere, a dog barked and another down the block yapped a response. Everything was as it should have been.

River was more than willing to bet that none of those other families were as perfect as they seemed. He and Jeanine were infamous for their argumentative ways, the talk of the neighborhood and their pack, but surely others had to be the same way. Discontent was the name of the game.

“Or maybe I’m just making it seem like everyone has the same problems I do,” he muttered to himself. “The divorce lawyer called it projecting.”

“River? Who are you talking to in there?”

It was Jeanine who spoke from outside his office door, bringing with her a stronger scent of coffee than before. Carrying a cup through the house? Odd behavior for a woman who forbade food from being eaten anywhere but the dining room table.

He didn’t want to deal with her. Summoning his voice like a schoolboy steeling himself to answer a teacher, he said loudly, “No one. Just musing out loud.”

The doorknob rattled as she tried to get inside. Jeanine sighed, frustrated. “Would you let me in, at least? Is that too much to ask, or are you going to make me converse with you through the door?”

Rather than argue, which was what she wanted, River got up and went to his office door to unlock it. He peered through at Jeanine, who gazed back with a harried look on her face. “What is it, Jeanine? I’m a little busy in here.”

“A little busy talking to yourself? How quaint. Don’t let me interrupt. I just thought you’d like a cup before it got cold.” She offered him the mug of coffee she held in both hands, presenting it like some grand treasure. Early on in their marriage, River learned not to question the gaps in her logic. Small though they might be, these gaps were frequent and baffling. Anyone else in the entire world would just keep the coffee pot on, instead of turning it off and subsequently fretting about the temperature. Not Jeanine. River didn’t know why, whether she was afraid of overbrewing or just forgetting about it. It wasn’t important.

“Thanks.” He took it from her, careful not to touch her or get too close. He was still feeling some of the arousal from before, and he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. His days of sex to keep up a charade were over. “Sorry for being abrupt. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“You’re sorry?” Jeanine repeated. A mocking look settled on her face, her eyes widening and her mouth stretching into an obscene grin. “I think that’s the first time you’ve apologized in the entire time I’ve known you. Mr. River Robinson, the man who’s always right, finally apologizes for something he did wrong. Would you say it again so I can get it on videotape?”

A man should always admit when he was in the wrong. The unbiased fact of the matter here was that Jeanine was often very wrong and River was often right.

This behavior had gone on long enough, and he was about to attempt to end the conversation when Jeanine continued. “And you think you’ve got a lot on your mind? You’re not the only one, you know.”

“I’m sorry for that, too. Of course you’re right. Thanks for the coffee.”

She had already opened her mouth to form a rebuttal, but now her mouth was open for no reason at all because there was nothing here to argue about. He had given her what she wanted, appeased her. No matter how much she might want to continue on, she had no reason to.

“Okay,” was all she managed to say. “You’re welcome.” And she went away, looking almost a little dazed at what just happened.

River waited until she was gone before taking the mug of coffee to the kitchen to pour it down the sink. Jeanine wasn’t a subtle woman. She preferred her revenge loud and occasionally public; poisoning him on the first real day of their separation seemed like it might be just a bit too quiet of a method. All the same, he thought it best not to risk it since she hadn’t brought him his coffee before in any other situation.

Not that he thought she would actually poison him. It was just a precaution, that was all.

He got himself an entirely new cup of coffee and decided to leave it black instead of doctoring it up the way he liked it. This seemed like a day when he was going to need the full impact of the caffeine, undiluted by cream or sugar. Sipping the bitter brew, he went back to his office and started the search for nearby storage facilities. Having located one suitably nearby, which seemed to have overall decent reviews, he jotted down the address and went to get ready for the day. A quick shower did more to invigorate him than the coffee had, though it might have had less to do with the hot water and more to do with the fact that his thoughts suddenly turned to Ash. And then he was imagining Ash in the shower, water running down his handsome, slender body, streaming over his muscles and gathering into a waterfall at the apex of his thighs.

His own groin tightened, arousal shuddering through his body. His blood started pumping faster through his veins, making him feel flushed and somehow vibrant.

Shower completed, he dried off and went in search of casual clothes. He had some, but they weren’t a normal part of his wardrobe, so he really had to dig. A pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Studying himself in the mirror, he shook his head at his reflection. It was like an entirely new person was looking back at him. He knew he should have been happy about that, but it was slightly frightening at the same time. He didn’t know who that other River was. What kind of person would he turn out to be?

Jeanine was in the living room with the television on and a book in her lap. River glanced at the TV and frowned a little. The news was playing. Jeanine wasn’t much for the news. She often said it was because she had enough problems of her own to deal with without worrying about the rest of the world. It was one of the few things she said that actually made sense, even if it was a flawed sort of logic.

There wasn’t anything of consequence happening on the TV either. No important events, just the regular crimes and investigation updates. So she wasn’t really watching it. It was a prop meant to disguise the fact that she was once again waiting on him, though perhaps it was for the last time.

“Your cheeks are pink,” she said dully. “How often do I have to tell you that such hot showers are detrimental to your health?”

He didn’t say anything, just headed over to the front door to slip on his work boots, which were easier to find because of Jeanine’s obsession with having shoes in the right places around the house. Grabbing his keys, River silently begged her to give it up, to let him go in peace.

That just wasn’t her way.

“Do you think I can’t smell the fact that you’re turned on? What were you doing in that shower, River?”

Yet another thing about this marriage that he despised. Wolves, with their superior senses of smell, could often tell things about other wolves that they weren’t really meant to know. That was just part of being a shifter, part of being in a pack. It was polite to usually ignore such things unless they seemed like they were causing a problem.

But he wasn’t going to let himself be drawn into a fight. Not this time. Grabbing hold of his impatience, he stepped out the door and into the sunlight. With every step he took, he felt himself relaxing. Every step away from the house meant another step towards his new life.

By the time he made it to the storage facility, he actually felt somewhat cheerful. He had no idea how long it had been since he had reason to feel happy about anything. Even when Jeanine finally agreed to get a divorce, all he felt was a dull sense of relief and acceptance.

Heading inside, he was greeted by a polite young woman who was more than willing to rent him a unit. He filled out all the paperwork—a surprising amount of it—while she chattered to him about the weather and how she wished it would cool off already because she was from Alaska and couldn’t take the heat. He refrained from informing her that the current temperature here in Portsmouth was a moderate 85 degrees, and that Alaska had been experiencing record highs for the past couple years, topping out in the 80s itself. Sometimes it was just best to let people be incorrect.

Handing back the paperwork, he paid for a week’s worth of storage time. That was another reason he’d chosen this place in particular, because you didn’t have to rent for full months at a time. They were willing to work with weeks, days, whatever, as long as you paid for it and kept illegal shit to a minimum. Not that the last part was listed as a feature on their website, but it was implied.

The young woman handed him a key and told him where to find his unit. River thanked her, walked out of the office, and headed down through the maze-like array of long, white units. His number was 224. It was a lot of walking to get to 224, a little more than he would have liked, but next time he came he figured he’d just drive his car right up to it. Rather than be annoyed over something so simple, he took the time to really examine the place. It all seemed clean enough, free of debris and random stains. The fronts of the units weren’t filthy or swathed over with cobwebs. All good signs. He hoped that the empty units were similarly taken care of. It wasn’t that he minded a little manual labor, but the truth was that he’d rather just get this train rolling, instead of having to go borrow a broom to sweep out all the spider webs or anything like that.

Finally reaching number 224, River was encouraged. This stretch of units was way back, deep in the maze, but they were all as clean as the others. He found the padlock on the right side and slid the key inside. A bit of resistance greeted him, but the lock worked well enough and popped open with only a little jiggling. Tucking the lock in his pocket, he slid his fingers under the bottom of the door and rolled it up.

An empty, clean expanse greeted him. Twenty feet by ten feet, it seemed more than roomy enough right now, but he imagined that once he started bringing his belongings here, it would fill up fast. The floor was clean and looked to have been swept recently. He could still see the tracks in the leftover dust, left by a stiff straw broom. A few cobwebs clustered up in the corners but they were insubstantial, all things considered.

“Good to go,” River muttered.

Shutting up the unit and locking it once more, River turned his face to the wind. It seemed to him that he could feel the changes arriving on the breeze, terrifying, and also, perhaps, just a little exciting.

The next few hours were spent moving his belongings from the house to his unit. He didn’t touch his clothes or anything related to his work, instead focusing on inconsequential items that he wouldn’t be needing anytime soon. He knew that he was going about all this a little wrong, that he should have looked for a house first and just skipped this whole middle step, but he did have his reasons. He wanted as little of his life here in this house as possible. He wanted the separation to be more than just a piece of paper. All the things he loved, the things he enjoyed, the things that gave him a brief respite in the face of so much stress; he wanted those things out of this damned house.

He took his books and his movies, the decorations that he’d bought with his own money. He took the waffle iron and the blender from the kitchen, the small table beside the armchair in the living room, the lamp on the other side of the room, and everything else that had his name on it.

As he picked out the items that belonged to him, transporting them to his new unit, he thought of the time when he found out that this wasn’t how other couples lived. He had been naïve then, only a few years into this unwilling marriage, still doing the best he could despite the fact that it was all a huge failure.

Leaving the kids—or had it only been one kid? It was so hard to keep track, and he wished he was better at it—with a babysitter, he went to a housewarming party with Jeanine. He didn’t know the people the party was for, because they were her friends from school. The house baffled him because everything seemed to go together. The couch matched the armchair, which went well with the wallpaper and the carpet. Though of different designs, the lamps and the knickknacks on the shelves all seemed to belong to only one person. And he thought back to his own life with Jeanine. Nothing matched. Not really. Nothing was theirs. It was always his or hers. Like they were roommates, not husband and wife.

The realization had struck him as odd at the time, but inconsequential. Now he knew differently. The house had always been divided, just like them.

Jeanine was under no illusions about their situation, so all she did was just watch in silence. Sometimes she went into her display room and would remain in there until he left, but then she would be back out by the time he returned. It was odd behavior, but their lives together were full of odd behaviors.

At exactly noon, River’s phone started to buzz in his pocket. He grabbed for it and jammed it against his ear, his heart already pounding. “Hello? Ash?”

“That’s me!” Ashton said cheerfully. “How nice that you’ve managed to fight off your Alzheimer’s for another day. Do you remember your own name?”

“Very funny.” River couldn’t help but smile. He leaned his hip against the side of his car and looked at the storage unit, packed with small fragments of his life. “You’re up for lunch now?”

“Right on time for it. Unless you’re one of those weird people who eats very late. In which case, I don’t think this is going to work out, and we should probably see other people.”

River listened to his heart pounding for a moment, wondering at the significance of those words. He remembered hearing at some point that most jokes contain a grain of truth within them. In this case, did that mean Ash had been hoping things worked out between them, or that he didn’t?

Or I’m remembering it wrong and that saying is about rumors. God, maybe I am old after all. And maybe he was reading too much into something inconsequential because he was nervous. Need to focus on being excited.

“You still there, old man?” Ash teased.

“I’m here. I eat lunch whenever I can. Lunch for breakfast. Even for dinner, sometimes.”

“Great. So, do you want to meet me at Dock of the Bay? Say, in about 20 minutes?”

At the mention of the seafood restaurant, River’s stomach gave an irritable grumble, reminding him that he’d skipped out on breakfast to get right to work. Dock of the Bay was a local favorite in Portsmouth, known for its casual atmosphere and good food. Clients sometimes liked to meet at restaurants to discuss business, preferring a more relaxed environment instead of the focused and impersonal feel of an office. As a result, River had been to the restaurant himself on more than a few occasions.

“Sure, I’ll be there. If you get there first, go ahead and sit down. I’ll find you.”

“Can do. See you in 20, River.”

River expected Ashton to hang up immediately, like he’d done before. Instead, the other wolf waited in silence on the other end of the line. It was a few seconds before River caught onto this and blurted out, “See you soon.”

Ash chuckled and hung up.

Groaning, River leaned his head back and put one hand over his eyes. Things could never be easy, could they?

He didn’t have long to spare on laments, however. Dock of the Bay was a good distance away from here, and even if he left right now, he’d be hard-pressed to make it on time. Lunchtime traffic was rough in any city, and Portsmouth had its own unique difficulties to deal with.

River shut his unit once more and locked it. The rest of his stuff could just wait until he came back from lunch. Hopping in his Genesis, he drove carefully back through the maze of units until he found the street once more.

There hadn’t been any tension inside him when he was on the phone with Ash, but that was because he hadn’t had time to think. The phone rang and he had just answered. Now however, he had 20 minutes to think and overthink about what was going to happen between him and Ash. The reality of things was that probably nothing would happen between them. They would eat lunch, talk, and then go their separate ways.

All the same, he found himself clenching his jaw, squaring his shoulders as if in preparation for a fight. He clutched at the steering wheel so hard that his fingers went white from the pressure, and the leather strained under his grip. He had to force himself to ease up or he would tear right through it.

Focus on the excitement, he reminded himself. It was there, deep inside him, a little glowing coal of warmth. If only he could stoke it to the blaze it deserved to be...

At first glance, Dock of the Bay was nothing special. And by that, River meant really nothing special. The front of it which faced the road was blue and white, with a protruding section for outdoor seating. That was all. There was nothing to designate it as a restaurant at all, nothing to signal how much of a local favorite it was except for all the cars parked nearby. Even then, a tourist who didn’t know any better would probably assume the cars were there for a different reason, for easy access to the nearby gift shops or the nearby beach.

The other side of the building was different, but it was impossible to see the other side unless you were out on the water. Dock of the Bay backed up right against the Elizabeth River, which flowed as the lifeblood of Portsmouth. Boats could pull up right along the dock out in the back of the restaurant, just like a person on land could drive their car up for a bite to eat. That was what made it so unique. The owners of the restaurant probably intended it to be this way, to keep it amongst the locals while filtering out as much of the tourist trash as possible.

River parked in the only available spot he could find. It was a bit of a tight fit even though he had a relatively small vehicle, but he made it work. He just had to hope that the owners of the vehicles on either side of him would be careful when they pulled out.

A strong wind blew across from the water, carrying with it the scent of the river and baked seafood. Dull, continuous chatter reached his ears as he approached, growing steadily louder the closer he came. Dishes clattered, people laughed, and all of it was threaded through by some annoying pop song coming from the radio speakers in the ceiling.

River pushed his way past a crowd of people spilling out through the front door, all of them seeming to belong to the same party from the way they pushed against each other and chattered. It was actually no less crowded inside the building, but now it was easier to work his way through the throng because at least the others waiting to be seated were standing still.

He approached the podium where a harried girl with a nose piercing was studying a diagram of tables, probably wondering how on earth they were going to fit another oversized party inside. He opened his mouth to interrupt, forming an apology for having to do so.

“River! Over here!”

Startled, he turned and looked in the direction of the voice. Ash stood in the middle of an aisle between crowded tables, waving one hand in the air for attention. As River saw him, he dropped his hand and made a come-hither gesture.

Heart in his throat, unsure when it had relocated there, River headed towards the other man. Ash wore a tight-fitting polo shirt, black with a gray collar. All three of the buttons on top were undone, showing a tempting flash of pale skin and a few curls of dark chest hair. That, and his long, messy hair, made him look good enough to eat.

As soon as River got close, Ash turned and led the way back through the restaurant until he reached the seating area out back by the dock. The noise level dropped considerably as there weren’t all that many people back here. That was a little surprising, given what time it was, but River suspected it might have to do with the fact that the tables back here were very small. Anyone who came in with a group larger than two or three would be hard-pressed to find a way to enjoy each other’s company. Maybe if the tables could be moved, but these were all bolted to the floor.

In any case, River was glad for once that others had been inconvenienced because it meant he and Ashton could talk in relative privacy.

Ash led him over to a table in the corner and sat down. There were already drinks on the table, what looked to be a soda and a plain glass of water.

“I didn’t know what you liked to drink. Hope you like the water. It’s fresh, straight from the river.”

River smiled as he sat down at the seat in front of the water glass. “Water’s fine. Thanks.”

“Sure.” Ash pushed a menu towards him. “I told the waitress to take her time getting around to us so we’d have plenty of time to talk. You aren’t in any sort of rush, I hope?”

River shook his head. “I’m not. That’s fine with me.” He grabbed the menu and opened it anyway, just to have something to do with his hands. He didn’t really feel up to the rigorous process of reading right now. “So, what have you been up to today? I hope it’s been more exciting than what I’ve been up to.”

“Well, not really.” Ash played with the straw in his soda, stirring the ice cubes around. “I’ve just been sitting around in my studio, waiting for inspiration to strike.”

Studio?

Ash seemed to realize that River had no idea what he was talking about. “I guess you wouldn’t know. I’m an artist.”

“You’re an artist,” River repeated, incredulous. The serious boy he’d known, the one with such a head for semantics, who had aced Speech class and carried his debate team to the finals, had become an artist? How the fuck did something like that happen?

Then again, River himself had changed. That was what growing up could do to a person.

“I paint. I have my own gallery downtown. Dust to Dust. Maybe you’ve heard of it? I’ve been in the paper a couple times.”

River looked down at the menu, the words and images swimming around in front of his eyes. He couldn’t seem to lift his head, couldn’t bear to look into Ash’s face or else risk having his innermost thoughts be known. “I’m not big on art.”

“Not big on art? That’s like saying you don’t listen to music. But I know at least that’s not true for you because you like violins.”

“I can’t stand what’s on the radio these days but instrumental is fine. Other than that, no.”

“Hmm.” Ash looked down at his own menu. “I have a feeling you really don’t like art.”

This was beginning to feel like the start of an argument with Jeanine. River clutched the menu so hard that the plastic bent, and this time he couldn’t make himself relax. “I don’t really want to talk about myself right now. Why don’t you tell me how you came to be an artist? I thought you wanted to be a lawyer.”

At that moment, their waitress finally arrived, interrupting them. The look in her eyes said that she had picked up on the tension between the two of them, but the smile she wore declared that she would ignore it because it was none of her business. River mentally thanked her for her professionalism.

She introduced herself, not that River could remember her name afterwards. Some sort of made-up millennial name. Miqueyla or Michellina or something like that, overly complex in an obvious attempt by her mother to be unique.

“What can I get you two today? Can I start you off with an appetizer? The crab and spinach dip is especially good today. Or we’ve got some of the best fried calamari around! What’ll it be?”

An appetizer sounded good to River’s empty stomach. Anything sounded good, if he was honest. He went for the crab dip and chose the fish and chips for his main entrée. Ash went with the shrimp tacos, which the waitress seemed to highly approve of. After promising to get the appetizer to them as soon as possible, she grabbed their menus and left them alone.

Ash continued to fiddle with his straw, making the ice cubes clink against the glass. “I did want to be a lawyer, but that was before you left. You can’t really think that nothing’s changed since I was fifteen. Or do you? That’s pretty young to choose a career.”

Fifteen seemed more than young right now. It seemed infantile, hardly old enough for anything. Only three years older, at eighteen, River had felt so much more mature at the time; now he knew that he’d been just as much of a baby in the grand scheme of things. They had both just been kids, in way over their heads with their infatuation with each other. Having been neighbors, they were always friends, but then it had transformed into something much deeper.

Of course, River was technically an adult at eighteen, while Ash was still considered a child. They hadn’t done anything because of that, wanting to wait until Ash was at least a little older. Some kissing, some touching, and all of it chaste in comparison to their true desires.

I promised to wait for you. I was so sure that we would last.

When River didn’t answer, Ash continued. “After you just left out of nowhere, things got weird for awhile. I didn’t really want to do anything, so I quit all that extra shit. The teacher who organized the debate team, Ms. Callaway? She went to my parents to try and get them to convince me to stay on, but then I deliberately fucked up a match and she let me go. I think I was depressed.”

“I’m sorry,” River whispered. I never meant to break your heart.

Ash continued to speak as if he hadn’t heard River apologize. “Before I knew it, I was a Junior and we were picking out colleges to send applications to. Everyone else was so excited, but I just didn’t care. I went for a local community college. Tidewater?”

River knew of Tidewater. Just a college, good for the basics. That was what he’d heard, at any rate. If he had even said the word Tidewater around his parents, they would have had a conniption.

“I figured business degrees are always useful, right? At least, that’s what I was told. A lot of useful information, useful skills. So I was going to get my Bachelor’s degree, hopefully figure out where I wanted to go from there. I took a job at Walmart. Cashier. Good hours, good starting pay. Anyway.”

Their appetizer arrived. River started eating mechanically while listening. The dip was good, he knew that because he’d had it before, but he couldn’t taste it right now. It was like glue in his mouth.

“I got my Bachelor’s degree. Went from being a cashier to a stocker. The managers liked me because I would just arrive and get to work, so eventually I got to be a department head. And then they wanted me to be a junior manager, but I’d just gotten a job offer from this real estate place. They liked my organizational skills, wanted me in the back working with records and supplies. The pay was almost twice what I was getting at Walmart, so I went there. Started working on my next degree. And then before I even knew it, I was 30, had a Master’s in Business Management, and I was still working in that damn real estate place. Doing good at it, too. If anyone needed anything ever, they came to me. I started learning about some other aspects of the business and if someone was out sick or on vacation, I shouldered some of the workload. I thought I’d be doing that for the rest of my life.”

“What happened to change that?” River asked, swallowing hard. He really didn’t like the sound of what he was hearing. His untimely departure from Ashton’s life had caused what seemed to be a sort of dysphoria, making Ash forget the care with which he used to live his life. Everything about this story so far seemed so disorganized. It had been a life without planning, without care or thought. That wasn’t the Ash he knew.

“I’m not sure. Actually, that’s a lie. I know exactly what it was. Pretending like it just suddenly happened out of nowhere is the kind of stuff a reporter wants to hear because it sounds good on paper. But between you and me, I don’t want there to be any bullshit.” Ash paused in his restless stirring to take a long drink of his soda. River paused in his eating, captivated by the motion of his mouth on the straw.

“It was a retirement party for one of our receptionists, Gladys. She was going on 80 and figured now was as good a time as any. Used to joke that she didn’t want to die sitting at her desk, but I think there’s a lot of truth in jokes like that.”

You and me both.

“She was a bit of a hobby painter. Nothing real great, but a lot of nice stuff. Cool enough to get as a gift but not anything you’d actually want to hang up on your wall to immortalize, you know? Mostly landscapes. But, her retirement was a paint party and I was invited.” Ash picked at some of the crab dip, his long fingers fiddling with the pita chip for a long moment. River saw smudges of stained color on his knuckles, red and blue. “A paint party is where you get a pre-drawn image on a canvas and then you paint it in. Like an adult paint-by-number. Lots of food, lots of wine involved. I’m not really sure what happened, but I just felt so good. So alive. So much better than I had in a very long time, and it happened while I was painting. Have you ever felt anything like that? Obsession at first sight?”

“Yes,” River said.

Ash smiled at him, catching the significance. “It was like my whole life just changed right in that moment. I couldn’t get enough. I bought all the supplies, started painting, and I just didn’t turn back. I applied to Alfred University in New York because they were supposed to have an amazing art program. And they did. I learned so much up there, all sorts of things that I didn’t even know were possible. Of course, I had to quit my job because it was in a different state, but I figured it was whatever. It was great. Some of the best years of my entire fucking life.”

“I came back to Portsmouth and opened up my gallery. And the rest is history, I guess.”

Their food came just then, and their conversation paused while they reassured the waitress that everything looked perfect. Seemingly pleased, she went away again to let them enjoy their food.

Despite the fact that he was still hungry, River just picked at his food for a time, rearranging the pieces of fish into interesting patterns. He felt guilty, incredibly guilty. It was because of him that their lives had come to this.

Ash was eating his tacos with a fork, working at them steadily. He paused after a few minutes and made a come-out-with-it gesture to River with a speared piece of shrimp. “Why don’t you like art, River? What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a financial adviser. That means I…”

“I know what it means,” Ash interrupted. Abruptly, he set his fork down with a clatter and then gave River a hard stare. “Why don’t you like art?”

“It’s not that I don’t like art,” he said. Alarm churned in his stomach, made him curl his toes inside his boots. “It’s just that artists…often do things that I don’t…approve of.”

“Like?”

“Ash, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well, we’re talking about it.” Ash didn’t raise his voice, but his green eyes narrowed. The slight motion had far more volume than a shout ever would. As it was, the other diners at a nearby table must have sensed their conversation had grown strained, because River felt them looking at him and Ash. “And the fact that you’re trying not to say anything means that it’s something we need to talk about.”

Sound logic. Also, very convincing. Apparently Ash hadn’t lost his talent for words, even if he hadn’t practiced the skill in far too long. However, River still hesitated.

“Look, I’m not that ex of yours, okay?” Ash lowered his voice, coaxing him. “You can actually talk to me. We’ll be adults, have a conversation without a ton of name-calling and judgmental bull. Got it?”

River finally allowed himself to relax. A civilized conversation was something he had dreamed about for such a long time now. “Okay. Yes.” He paused. “Thank you, Ash. I think I needed that.”

“Seems like it.” Ash teased. He picked up his fork again, using his lips to pull the shrimp from its tines. River stared at him, wondering if he’d done that on purpose, if this was what flirting was like these days. If it was, he thought he could certainly get behind it. “Maybe start eating, though. I see our waitress with the fancy name looking in our direction. She probably thinks something’s wrong with your fish.”

At Ash’s bidding, River settled in to eat. Now that some of the tension between himself and Ashton had abated, his sense of taste made a startling reappearance. The food was good, as it always was here.

Once the waitress went away, satisfied that all was right with the world again, River tried to put words to his feelings. “I don’t have anything against people who want to make art for a living. It’s just that it seems almost…unfair, in the grand scheme of things, for an artist to be able to do whatever they want, whenever they want. When the rest of us are attached to a daily routine that never changes. It’s unnerving. Never knowing what someone’s going to do.”

“So, you don’t trust artists because they’re living a better life than you?”

“I like stability,” River explained. He stirred the coleslaw that came with his meal, savoring each bite. Jeanine hated coleslaw with creamy dressing, would declare to the entire world how fattening it was. Vinegar dressing was much better.

But that was her opinion, one of millions.

“I don’t think it’s a better life. Waking up every day, not knowing what’s going to happen? How do you manage your money? How do you ever make sure you have enough money when you have no idea if anyone even wants to buy your art? It’s just wrong.”

When he finished talking, Ash was smiling. It was a smile composed of equal parts confusion and exasperation, but it was a smile nonetheless. “River, have you ever done anything without planning it in advance?”

“Well, I had six kids and that was kind of unexpected. Other than that, no.”

“Maybe we should fix that, then. I’ll kidnap you someday and take you on an adventure, and you’ll just be forced to enjoy it.”

That idea was both terrifying and exciting. River simultaneously hoped that it would never happen, but also that it would happen right this very second. An adventure with Ash might be just the thing he needed to really celebrate his newfound freedom.

“What are your kids named? And how old are they?”

“Oh, God. I can remember their names and their ages, but not both at the same time.”

Ash laughed. “Oldest and youngest, then.”

That was feasible, in theory. People who didn’t have a lot of kids would never understand the hardships that could arise from trying to remember them all. Buying presents was a nightmare. Who liked stuffed animals, and who was into computer games? Fuck it, just get them all gift cards, and let them pick out their own presents. Jeanine scolded him for his idea at first but then she started to see the light, as their children grew and developed such varied interests that they could no longer buy things without really knowing whether or not it would go over well.

“Allison is 23. And then there’s Beatrice, Cameron, Derrick, Emma, and then there’s Faith, our youngest, at 18.”

Ash mulled over the names for a long moment while finishing off the last of his food, leaving behind a plate so clean it might have come directly from the dishwasher. “So, I’ve got a few observations.”

“Go ahead.”

“Okay. First of all, you were married for 23 years. So that means you had Allison like as soon as possible.”

“It was what Jeanine wanted.” He felt so ashamed saying those words. He was supposed to be an alpha wolf, a dominant predator, but all he had done was blindly go along with what everyone else wanted from him.

“Right. Of course it is.” Ash grimaced and looked off across the surface of the river, which rippled with soft silver waves. “You know, I’m beginning to hate that fucking woman.”

River said nothing.

Ash pulled in a deep breath and visibly attempted to relax. “Right. So. My second observation is that your children are named alphabetically.”

“Jeanine’s idea. She thought it’d be fun.”

Ash grimaced again.

River suddenly laughed. “She really wanted to give everyone a name that started with an A. At least I managed to talk her out of that.”

“Holy shit, that’s worse.” Ash put his paint-smudged hands up in the air. “I thought it couldn’t get any worse, but boy was I wrong. Why A?”

“It’s her favorite letter,” River replied, very seriously.

Ash looked at him for a very long moment, and then he scowled. “I think you’re making that part up.”

“You’re right. I have no goddamn idea what her obsession was with wanting to name them all like that, but I wasn’t going to argue.”

“If your marriage was so bad, what about your relationship with your kids?”

And just like that, the tension was back. “Maybe we’ll talk about that some other time.”

“Ah. Got it.” Ash nodded as if he understood, but River knew that a person couldn’t really have any idea about these things unless they had gone through it themselves. He wouldn’t wish this sort of pain on any other person, though. It was an entirely different kind of heartbreak, and he had gone through it six different times.

He loved his kids, and he was pretty sure that they all loved him and that they loved their mother. He had tried so hard to give them all a good life, but material things didn’t matter as much when your parents were at each other’s throats all the time. The kids left as fast as they could, chased away by the conflict. Weekly phone calls turned to monthly calls. River wished he could change that, and maybe soon there would be a chance to reconnect properly, but he wouldn’t force anything on them that they didn’t want.

Ash looked as if he was about to speak again, but stopped abruptly, then reached down under the table to bring out his phone. Looking at the number on the screen, he grimaced. “I’ve got to take this. Sorry.”

“Take your time.”

Ash wandered away down the length of the dock, looking around across the river to the city of Norfolk on the other side while speaking in hushed, hurried tones to the person on the other end. The conversation didn’t seem to be particularly pleasant, so River focused on picking through the remnants of his lunch.

There hadn’t been any real answers obtained during the part of their talk when River discussed why he didn’t trust artists. It all ran a little deeper than that, because the truth was that he thought many of them were lazy fools relying on hype and misinformation to sell their products, letting someone else do all the hard work for them. Even though he hadn’t said that, Ash appeared to have picked up on it. He hadn’t said anything to defend himself, hadn’t really tried to change River’s mind.

What did that mean? That he knew he couldn’t defend his lifestyle, or that he knew it wasn’t so easy to change a person’s perception of the world?

After a long minute or two, Ash’s footsteps thumped heavily back across the wooden dock. River looked up and was immediately worried by the expression on the other wolf’s face. It looked as if he’d seen a ghost or else was given terrible news of some sort.

“Trouble?” he asked.

Ash frowned, sat down, and started stirring the ice around in his glass. He hadn’t done that since the very beginning of their conversation, when tensions were especially high. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Not trouble. I do have to get going, though. I’m sorry to cut this short, but there’s somewhere I have to go. Something came up. You know how it is.”

Finally, something River could understand. Business was business, and a person would do well to adapt to the demands that came their way. “Of course. Do you think I’ll see you again sometime?”

Some of the tightness relaxed from Ash’s jaw line. His green eyes brightened slightly, and his grin returned, though only as a shadow of its former self. “I already told you that I’m going to kidnap you one of these days. I’m going to force you to enjoy a day without rigorous planning.”

“How are you going to kidnap me when you don’t know where I live?”

“What, you think I don’t know how to track you down? I am a wolf, even if I’m just an omega. I can track you down. Also, you run a business. I’ve got your name. Problem solved.”

River laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed as much as he had during this lunch. Perhaps never. It was like some sort of miracle that things had even gone as well as they had, and he knew he would be thinking over this day for a very long time to come. “I guess that’s it, then. I’m doomed to be kidnapped. Completely at your whim.”

Their waitress came over to take away their plates, and Ash sent her to get their bills. When she had gone again, Ash turned back to River and looked at him with complete seriousness, his eyebrows drawn together slightly. “Just like old times, right? You’re still wrapped around my little finger.”

River couldn’t breathe under the intense pressure those eyes put upon him. He felt pinned back against a corner, pushed into a trap from which he couldn’t escape even if he wanted to. “I always have been. I never stopped.”

“Neither did I.”

They paid their separate bills and made their way together back through the parking lot. Ash hesitated at the entrance to the Dock of the Bay but River reached out and lightly touched his shoulder. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Neither of them said aloud what that simple touch did to them. The act of touching left River feeling as if he might need to jump into the water or else burst into flames at any moment. Judging from the way Ash walked, the movement of his body, the increased sway of his hips, and the amount of musk in his scent, he felt the same way.

“Don’t make fun of my car,” Ash said as they approached it.

He hadn’t pointed out which vehicle was his, but there was only one car directly in front of them that would potentially be worth making fun of. The gray, nondescript Impala was cross-eyed, with one headlight leaning drunkenly in the socket while the other pointed straight ahead as it should have. River smiled a little. “It’s got character.”

“It’s what all the cool artists drive these days.” Ash puffed up his chest in a faux display of bravado and patted the hood of the car. He leaned forward slightly to do it, and River’s eyes slid down the frame of his body until his gaze landed squarely on Ash’s ass. It was small and round and pert, nicely filling out his jeans. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear as the sound of his own pulse filled his ears. Everything inside him was burning and taut, his veins, his muscles, his tendons, and his mind. At any moment, his thoughts might burn out and cease to exist entirely, leaving him at the mercy of his physical desire.

The sensations inside him were almost frightening in their power. For so long, he had been alone with only his imagination for stimulation, striving towards pitiful orgasms that had no real substance. Here and now, looking at Ash, everything suddenly felt much too real, too close beneath the surface. The man he was could control his arousal, but the wolf knew no limits, had no qualms about taking what it had been waiting for so long.

Ash turned around, his mouth slightly open, but whatever words he’d been planning to say suddenly died on their way out of his throat. All that emerged was a small squeak, rather like a whimper. River could feel Ash’s inner wolf responding to him, reaching out toward him, straining to reach him. Alpha and omega; one lived to claim, while the other couldn’t live without being claimed.

“River?” Ash whispered, finally managing to catch hold of his voice. “Not here, okay? I really need to get going.”

River heard the words, but their meanings were lost upon him. His body acted of its own accord, moving without his approval. Two steps forward was all it took to close the distance between himself and his prey. Their hips pressed together, their groins meeting between them. Ash fit between his thighs as perfectly as if he had always belonged there, and he didn’t fight this new development. Ash’s face looked flushed, his lips slightly parted. His hands wound their way around River’s waist, then slid around even further behind, trailing fire in their wake.

Fingers pressed firmly against River’s ass. He could feel all ten of them individually, felt them burning his flesh through thick denim.

His own hands were moving, planting hard on Ash’s shoulders. Ash was pressed back hard, leaning back over the hood of his Impala. Their stomachs were together, and then they were chest-to-chest with no space left between them at all.

River moved one hand slowly from Ash’s shoulder, up the side of his neck, and cupped his face. He leaned in even further, very aware of the way his weight pinned Ashton against the car, and pressed their lips together.

A glance of contact, a ghost of a kiss. Just a chaste farewell, that was all River wanted. That was all the kiss was for perhaps a single breath, and then he completely lost control over himself and sank in deep. The force of his lips crushing against Ash’s made them part, allowing River’s tongue entrance into his mouth to taste him, to explore that warm, wet depth in a way he had never dared before.

Ash moaned into his mouth, his breath as sweet as sugar. His hands clutched harder at River’s ass and then began to dance, sliding all over his body, up his back and down to his ass again, pulling at handfuls of his hair.

And through it all, River held the other man’s face still with one hand and continued to explore him until a realization came from nowhere that they were attracting an audience.

River sprang back, away from his prize. Embarrassment took hold of him as he realized what a state he must look to be in, with his lips still wet, his hair mussed, and his clothes rumpled up from Ash’s wild caresses.

Ash was slower to respond. Practically sitting on top of his car, all he could do was touch his kiss-swollen lips and look stunned. His green eyes were hazy, like a forest shrouded in early morning fog.

The amount of people who gathered to watch them kiss was nowhere near as big as River had feared, though four watchers was still four too many. He glared at them as fiercely as he could, but the wolf inside him shrank away from the confrontation, too distracted to be imposing. All the same, the watchers decided that they didn’t much like to be watched themselves, and went about their business as if nothing had happened.

For them, nothing had.

For River, everything had. He felt as if his entire life had been flipped upside down. Or maybe, it had finally been righted.

“Well, shit.” Ash said. He sounded just as dazed as he looked, as dazed as River felt. “Tell me what brought that on so I can do it again later.”

Heat rose to River’s cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to formulate a response in a way that didn’t sound obscene. “Well, you bent over.”

“So, you’re an ass man.” Ash dug around in his pocket and brought out his keys, jingling them around to let River know that he was leaving. He opened his car door and stuck one leg inside.

“I don’t have any idea what kind of man I am.”

“I guess we’re just going to have to find out,” Ash said. He slid fully inside his car and shut the door. The sharp thump signaled an end to their conversation, like the click of a phone being hung up.

All River could do was head to his own vehicle, mystified, confused, worried, and somehow also as delighted as a man could ever be.