Page 31 of To Keep A Wolf
“You’re not going anywhere,” Tripp says, his voice muffled.
My heart warms at their words. And the hug. Even though it’s hard to breathe.
After a beat, Levi says, “Okay, enough hugging.” He shoves Tripp aside, who, thankfully, is quick enough to land on his feet instead of his ass.
“Wow,” Tripp says, “Seriously? I can give my friend a hug if I want to.”
“You could,” Levi shoots back, “if you weren’t both already horizontal.”
Tripp pins me with a sour look. “Don’t let him go all alphahole on your ass.”
“Believe me, the only alphahole here is me,” I tell him.
They both laugh at that way harder than necessary.
Assholes.
CHAPTER9
Later that night, the heat of the campfire warms my face. It’s colder here up in the foothills of the Blue Ridge. But the crackling fire in the center of our circle makes it cozy. Not to mention my wolf warming me from the inside out. I haven’t thrown up again and am already feeling stronger, thanks to the herbs and the food. My shoulder is slowly beginning to regain function, but I am still mostly one-handed as I try to balance the stick on my lap and shove a marshmallow onto the end without dropping it all.
“Here,” Levi says, grabbing the stick to keep it stable until I’m finished.
“Thanks,” I tell him and then hold the marshmallow out toward the flames.
Across the fire, Tripp watches me with a contemplative expression.
“What?” I ask warily.
I suspect they’ve both been purposely trying to keep my mind off things. And it’s actually worked—somewhat. It’s also reminded me of the friendship I’ve missed so much over the years. But I keep waiting for them to finally circle back around to the actual elephant in the room.
Instead, he says, “Only toddlers and serial killers like their marshmallows flaming rather than toasted.”
I glance at where my marshmallow is just beginning to catch the flame and smirk. “You’re obviously uncultured when it comes to making a proper s’more,” I tell him.
He snorts, and Levi grins, content to let us argue.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Quinn.” Tripp waits while I inspect my burning marshmallow. Deeming it properly crispy, I bring it toward my mouth and blow out the flames engulfing it.
Levi’s right there with the graham cracker covered in chocolate.
Smashing the whole thing together, I trade the stick for the melting treat and bite off half. The heat from the marshmallow makes me wince, but it’s worth it.
“Mmmm,” I say around the mouthful.
It’s possible my eyes roll back in my head a little.
And the nostalgia brought on by the flavors isn’t lost on me either.
Tripp just shakes his head at me in mock disgust. “Monster,” he says and then goes back to slowly roasting his own marshmallow. It’s barely turned brown at the edges by the time he pulls it in and builds his own dessert sandwich.
Two pieces of chocolate. One mostly raw marshmallow.
“You’re so weird,” I say, laughing as he stuffs the entire thing into his mouth and mimics my noises of appreciation.
“You’ll make someone very happy with that kind of simplistic satisfaction,” Levi tells him.
“Yeah, if you eat everything raw and your mate never has to cook, win,” I say.
