Page 15 of A Hutch for Hoover

Chapter Thirteen

Hoover

Today. I was doing it today. We couldn’t wait anymore. I couldn’t wait. I was going to push all my insecurities aside and shift with my mate.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified. And not because Grant gave me any reason to be. He hadn’t. He’d been the most amazing mate who ever existed in the entire history of mates. I was sure of it. He was sweet and funny and understanding. He didn’t once look down on me for my job, where I lived, my abilities, or even my teeny tiny excuse for a beast.

He accepted me and loved me for who I was.

We’d been spending every night together—most at his place, a few at mine when I was exceptionally focused on a project. Sometimes that happened. I’d find a particular inspiration item that got my creativity flowing in a way I didn’t want to stop. I would have dropped it if I thought it was upsetting my mate in any way, but he loved sitting there, handing me supplies, or sometimes just watching.

Obviously this wasn’t all of the time. That would get boring really quickly. But when I was truly excited about something? Absolutely, he was there for that.

That afternoon, when he asked what I wanted to do, instead of picking a movie or going out to eat or for a walk, or even snuggling in bed for an early night, I sucked in a breath for courage and said, “Let’s shift together.”

He hadn’t pushed me to do it in our time together. He took my no as what it was and left it at that. If anything, he’d been much more understanding than I’d ever be about not meeting his animal if our positions were swapped.

Most shifters made those introductions before they marked each other. In fact, I hadn’t heard of any who hadn’t. That didn’t mean they didn’t exist—but if they did, I wasn’t aware of them.

We drove to where I’d shifted with Rustle that first day…somewhere I was familiar enough with that I’d feel safe in the unlikely situation we got separated. We could have a little bit of privacy, but also be close enough we could shift and return to civilization in only minutes. Perfect for this next step.

“How did you find this place?” he asked.

“Rustle has an app he uses. Pretty cool, huh?”

We agreed to download it ourselves.

We took off our clothes, and I put my hearing aids in the cup holder in the car, not wanting them to get any damage from being outside. Just a little dirt could do a lot of harm, and if some sort of rodent decided to chew on the tubing? Yeah, that wouldn’t be pretty.

When I first discovered I needed them, I looked up different brands and styles that my audiologist said might work for me, and one of the common threads in all of the comment sections was about the warranties and how well they did or didn’t cover dogs chewing them. If dogs were all into hearing aids, I imagined wild animals probably were too.

Stowing them put me at a disadvantage because, from the second they were in the cup, my mate could say whatever he wanted, as loudly as he wanted, as slowly as he wanted, and the odds of me understanding what he was trying to communicate were going to be slim to none.

He’d mentioned in passing we should learn some ASL for times like this. And I agreed it was a good idea. But, for now, we had to make do with what we had.

Neither of us spoke, instead going straight to the shifting and taking our clothes off and falling back for our beasts.

I let him go first, wanting to take in his form. He was stunning. Absolutely stunning. His wolf was as beautiful as any I’d seen in person and in art, and I saw a lot of art, sorting through items for work the way I did.

I squatted to pet him, and he licked my cheek.

“I see how it is.” I rubbed my nose against his and then took a step back, pulling my beast forward and landing on the ground with a thud.

Heat poured over me, but not once did I feel intimidated.

You’re beautiful, mate.I heard him, clear as day—only he wasn’t speaking. His wolf was standing in front of me, and he didn’t have vocal cords the way he once did. As if vocal cords were the issue.

So beautiful. His wolf bent down, his tongue darting out and licking the top of my head.

You’re beautiful too,I thought, wishing I could say the words and soon discovering I actually had, just not in the traditional way.

Thank you, mate.His words were a bazillion times clearer than any I’d heard since the accident.

Wait. You can hear me?

Yes, I can. Let’s run.

I’d heard mates sometimes had an extra bond, one that allowed them to talk to each other. But I’d always thought it was the stuff of storybooks. Like somehow you got your perfect mate, and, if you did, you had this magnificent gift that showed it to the world.

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