Bear the Burden (Midnight Falls #25)

Chapter One

“ Here you go.” Wesley set the tray of pizza on the table, ignoring the throbbing ache in his leg and hoping it didn’t turn into one of his bad days. Luckily, working at Papa’s Pizza Nest didn’t require a lot of walking, except when he had to take orders to the six tables in the dining area.

“It looks so good,” the woman said. “Thank you.”

The guy sitting across from her just smiled at Wesley before the couple turned their attention to their food. Wesley headed away, his sole focus on the chair behind the counter and the little bit of relief he would gain when he took a seat.

“Oh, hey, excuse me,” the guy called out.

Gritting his teeth to stifle the cry of pain from turning so quickly, Wesley stared at him. “Yes?”

“We didn’t get our drinks,” he pointed out with a friendly smile.

“Sorry, I’ll bring them right away.” So much for my small reprieve.

The guy nodded before Wesley once again headed toward the counter. Each step felt like a sharp needle was plunging into the sole of his foot, the pain radiating all the way up his leg and curling around his hip.

By the time he made it to where he’d left their drinks, Wesley was coated in a fine sheen of sweat and taking shallow breaths.

Definitely a bad day and getting worse. He curled his hand around the edge of the counter, lifting his leg to take some of the pressure off of it.

“Hey, Mike,” Wesley said when he spotted the parttime employee who pitched in wherever needed. “Can you take these drinks to the table with the couple?”

Looking past Wesley, Mike squinted until his blue eyes had become slits. Did the guy need glasses? “There’s several tables with couples, Wes.”

How many times had he asked Mike not to call him that? It was the name his dad used when he was in one of his foul moods. Jackson Miller had ruined the nickname for Wesley.

“The one with the dude wearing the black shirt.” Wesley grimaced, the pain still not easing even though he stood with one leg raised like he was about to perform a kick to someone’s chest.

“Yeah, all right, but you owe me.” Mike grabbed the drinks and walked around him, wearing an expression that said Wesley could’ve done it himself.

How did he owe the guy just for carrying drinks to a table? And if Wesley could have done it himself, he would have. He hated relying on other people, and Mike’s attitude made him feel like a burden.

As soon as he walked away, Wesley limped to the side room that held the utility sink and a hodgepodge of items Cyrus, the owner, stored in there. It was basically an oversized closet, but it afforded Wesley the privacy he needed to pull out his prescription bottle of pain killers.

He didn’t like taking them while he was at work, but the pain in his leg was getting worse the longer he walked on it. On the large metal storage shelf was a bag of plastic cups tucked among an array of other things. Wesley wrestled one free and filled it with water from the sink then downed two pills.

They usually took effect within thirty minutes, which meant he had another half an hour of pain to deal with.

After tossing the cup into the small trash can, he limped out of the room and headed straight toward his stool, still thinking about Mike’s expression.

The guy knew Wesley had a limp, though he didn’t know why. Only Cyrus did, but even his boss had no idea how he’d been injured.

Wesley hadn’t gone into details when he’d applied for the job, though he’d brought the letter from his doctor with him. It gave a generic description of his disability, which Wesley had done on purpose.

That was one good thing about developing a friendship with his doctor of two years. He could ask Dr. Baldwin to do him small favors. Wesley didn’t want everyone knowing the tragedy he’d survived. It was no one’s business.

With everyone in the dining area taken care of, Wesley set to work slicing fresh mushrooms on the lower half of the raised bar counter. Normally, this task would be done in the kitchen behind him, but Cyrus had made exceptions for Wesley due to his difficulty standing for long periods of time. Although it was a simple task, it brought Wesley a sense of calm.

Cyrus took pride in using only the best and freshest ingredients in his pizzas and other menu items, evident by the incredible flavors that filled every bite. Wesley had gained at least three pounds since he’d started working there a month ago.

That might seem like an insignificant number, but it wasn’t to him. Since the “incident” two years ago, Wesley struggled to gain weight. Between his medications, dealing with Jackson, and his own fluctuating moods, he rarely had an appetite.

His hand stilled when he felt eyes on him. With a frown, he glanced up to find a man standing there, his beefy arms crossed on the upper portion of the raised counter. His smoky-gray eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Never startle someone with a sharp knife in their hand,” the stranger said with a teasing smile. His deep voice was like honey dripping over velvet, and Wesley was instantly in lust with the sound.

“Um, one moment.” Setting his knife aside, Wesley lifted the small cutting board and scraped the sliced mushrooms into a small food pan then covered it with a lid.

“What can I get for you?” Curling his lips in to hide his grimace, Wesley stood. The pain wasn’t as bad, but it still shot through his leg.

The stranger stood to his full height, which was impressively tall.

When Wesley finally got a good look at the stranger, he found himself staring at raw, unfiltered masculinity. Holy crap. The man’s dark hair was styled in a tousled cut, and his face held sharp contours in his cheekbones and jawline.

Wesley’s gaze slid lower, skimming over a physique of sculpted muscles. Good lord. Could the guy’s T-shirt stretch any harder over his mouthwatering body?

Stop eye-banging his muscles.

Ripping his eyes away from the stranger’s chest, Wesley stared into his smoky-gray eyes. The man’s smile vanished, and now he just stood there gazing at Wesley as if hypnotized.

Suddenly, Wesley felt as if he’d known this man forever. It was a strange feeling, but it was there, in the center of his chest.

“Sir?” Wesley had no idea why he felt that way. “What can I get for you?” he repeated.

“Do you need me to smack you in the back of the head to reboot your brain?” the guy next to Smoky Eyes asked.

Wesley just now noticed someone else was standing there. The two shared enough similar features that he assumed they were related.

“You can get me your phone number, handsome,” Smoky Eyes said with a sexy grin that flattened Wesley. It was the kind of smile that granted him instant access to a lot of erotic fantasies.

“At least let me order some food before you start flirting, Hyett,” the guy next to him said. Then he looked at Wesley. “Can I get a large, cheesy-crust pizza with pepperoni, ham, bacon, and Italian sausage?”

Wesley quickly grabbed the order pad lying close to a stack of napkins, hoping he didn’t forget what the guy had just said.

“Also,” he continued, “I’d like your sixteen-wing order.”

“What sauce?” he asked, trying his best to ignore Hyett. Even though Wesley was looking down, he still felt the man’s penetrating gaze.

And secretly, he liked it.

“The hottest you have,” the guy replied. “And an order of your cheesy-garlic breadsticks with marinara dipping sauce. I’d like a Coke, too.” He turned to Hyett. “What do you want?”

This had to be a to-go order the man was going to share with others. There was no way one person could eat that much. Grant it, he was even bulkier than Smoky Eyes, an inch or two taller, with just as much muscle, but still… Who would go through so much trouble to achieve a body like his, only to wreck it with such unhealthy food?

“I’ll take a calzone with extra pepperoni and an order of those breadsticks my brother ordered, with the same dipping sauce. Also, the same number of wings, but with honey-barbeque sauce, and a bottled water.” The side of Hyett’s mouth curled into a sweet smile. “And I still need your phone number and your name, if you don’t mind.”

“Wesley,” he found himself saying even before he knew the word was forming. There was no denying how attracted he was to Hyett, but Wesley didn’t flirt, let alone date, and least of all become intimate.

Not after the disaster he’d suffered through the last time he’d had sex. More like tried to have it. One night, a year and a half ago, he’d gone home with some rando from a bar. The guy had taken one look at Wesley’s leg, and the most crude, heartless things had flown from his mouth.

But it was being called a monster that had gut-punched Wesley the hardest. Since then, he’d given up trying to become intimate with anyone. He didn’t even wear shorts, no matter how hot it was.

He was not putting himself through that again, especially with someone as gorgeous as Hyett. “You two can take a seat if you want. Your orders should take roughly twenty minutes.”

“What about your phone number, Wesley?” Hyett sounded sincere, and Wesley was attracted to him, but it wasn’t going to happen.

“Dude, he’s clearly not interested,” the brother said. “Why are you pushing it?”

“Back off, Killian.” There was a slight growl to Hyett’s voice, which made Wesley move even faster, momentarily forgetting to hide his limp. Jackson used that same tone, which told him Hyett had a temper.

Now he knew for certain Hyett wasn’t getting his number, although he hadn’t planned on giving it out anyway.

“Why are you moving so fast?” Cyrus asked when Wesley entered the kitchen with the ticket he could have easily handed through the order window.

He didn’t answer his boss, just went straight for the stool next to the stainless-steel workstation. Unfortunately, his leg buckled under him, and he crashed to the floor with a cry of pain.

Cyrus was at his side in seconds, squatting as he helped Wesley to sit up. “How bad?”

“Bad.” Wesley closed his eyes while gripping his leg, wishing the pills he’d taken would kick in. The fall had caused the pain to go from shooting needles to an inferno from hell, and all he could do was rock back and forth while gritting his teeth as an anguished whimper rolled through his throat.

* * * *

“What in the hell was that about?” Killian demanded as the human limped away. “When did you start acting like a pushy asshole, Hyett?”

Limped away. His mate had some sort of disability, which only made him want to protect the guy. Hyett had been leaning on the raised portion of the counter, watching the way the human meticulously sliced the mushrooms in a peaceful rhythm.

He had been lulled by it, until he realized it wasn’t the rhythmic chopping that entranced him but the guy himself. The beautiful man had artfully styled dark brown hair bordering on black and wore an adorable, focused expression like he was determined to make each slice the exact same size.

Then it hit Hyett that he was staring at his mate.

Suddenly, his entire world had reshaped to center around the man seated in front of him, even though he’d yet to learn his mate’s name.

When he heard Wesley shout in what sounded like pain, Hyett took off around the counter and headed toward the back. His mate was sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth, his handsome face in a painful grimace as he made wounded animal sounds.

“What happened?” He hunkered next to Wesley and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“He fell.” Cyrus glanced at him. “You really shouldn’t be back here, Hyett. Thanks for your concern, but I can handle this.”

“It’s not your job to handle.” He and the wolf shifter stared at each other for a moment before a knowing look entered the man’s eyes.

“Gotcha.” Cyrus nodded. “Recently?”

“Just now.” Hyett ran his hand up and down Wesley’s slim back, knowing his touch would help. “Is the pain easing up, Wesley?”

“I-I think the medication is finally starting to work.” His features began to relax, and his rocking became less manic. It wasn’t the medication alone. It was also Hyett’s touch.

“Medication? Wesley, I asked you to let me know if you had to take it,” Cyrus said in gentle chastisement. “That way I know to keep an eye on you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Wesley’s tone was a little biting. “But I don’t need a babysitter. I’m perfectly functional with or without pain killers.”

Wesley had a lot of stubborn pride, which was fine, but Cyrus was right. There were too many hazards around them, and Wesley could have gotten hurt, aside from falling.

“I didn’t fall from the medication,” Wesley argued as if he’d read Hyett’s thoughts. “It happened because my leg gave out.” He looked at Cyrus. “Why is he back here? You shouldn’t be discussing my personal business with him.”

Hyett and Cyrus frowned at the same time.

“Wesley, you’re the one discussing it,” the wolf shifter pointed out. “All I said was that you fell.”

“Shit.” Wesley rested the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Would it be okay if I went home?”

“Yeah.” Cyrus nodded even though Wesley wasn’t looking at the guy. “Hyett can take you since you’re in no condition to drive.”

Wesley dropped his hand and stared at his boss. He wouldn’t even look Hyett’s way. “You’re telling me to take a ride from someone I don’t even know? I’ve driven in worse pain. I can manage.”

Hyett had zero knowledge of humans on medication, but he was hoping it was the reason his mate was rejecting him. Although he doubted even medication would stop Wesley from feeling the pull. The prescribed drugs might dull it, but the guy was acting as if it was completely absent.

The wolf shifter glanced at Hyett with a look that said he wasn’t going to push Wesley. Honestly, Hyett didn’t want to either, but his mate wasn’t getting behind the wheel in his condition.

Wesley tried to push from the floor with little success. Every time he tried, he ended up back on his ass. That only proved he didn’t need to be behind the wheel of a car.

“I don’t mind taking you.” Hyett spread his arms, ready to catch his mate if he fell backward. “Cyrus can vouch that I’m a good guy.” Most of the time. Hyett wasn’t a saint, but he wasn’t the devil, either. He was a bear shifter who lived with his father and two brothers, and they’d seen their fair share of trouble, sometimes causing it, over the past few centuries.

But the Everhart men were loyal, decent shifters who helped those who needed it and hurt those who fucked with their family and the people they cared about.

“Can you help me to my feet?” Wesley asked his boss, continuing to ignore Hyett like he wasn’t even there.

Hyett clenched his jaw, pushing aside the hurt. This wasn’t about him right now. It was about stopping Wesley from driving. He didn’t know how far his mate lived from Papa’s, but what if the pain became worse and he veered off the road? What if the medication caused him to crash?

Why won’t my mate look at me?

Cyrus helped Wesley to his feet, giving Hyett an apologetic look. Even the wolf shifter felt the rejection and knew that was the worst thing a preternatural could experience when they found their mate.

A mate was the most precious person to a nonhuman. Wesley was Hyett’s one shot at true happiness, his future, the one person who would make him feel whole.

And the guy wants nothing to do with me .

Wesley limped toward the entrance to the dining area, shaking off Cyrus’s hand when his boss tried to help.

When Wesley was out of sight, Hyett turned to the wolf. “What’s wrong with his leg?”

The guy shrugged. “When I interviewed him, he gave me a letter from his doctor, but all it said was that he had a leg injury and was restricted to limited duties. I didn’t hire him because he’s disabled. I did it because he had this determined look in his eye.”

The same look Hyett had just seen. “Thanks,” he said before he hurried away to stop his mate from getting into his car.

He had hurried for nothing. Wesley was already outside, but he simply stood there staring at a black sedan with his mouth dropped open slightly. When Hyett joined him on the sidewalk, he saw the driver’s side front tire was flat.

Glancing around, he spotted his brother inside the shop, gazing at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world to him.

“You did this, didn’t you?” Wesley scowled at him.

“Me?” Hyett stared disbelievingly at the guy. “I was with you inside. How could I have done this?”

Turning, Wesley looked through the pizza shop window. Killian rubbed the back of his neck, gazing at the large pizza artwork on the wall. Hyett groaned. His brother was about as subtle as a bank robber holding a bag of cash while telling the cops he was innocent.

“Is this some kind of sick game you two play?” Wesley snarled. “Pick an injured guy and fuck with him?”

“What in the hell is your problem?” Hyett snapped, finally having enough of his mate’s snide attitude. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you, Wesley. It’s not rude to ask a handsome guy for his phone number or try to help him when he falls. You act as if I’m your enemy. Why?”

“I just…” Wesley pivoted, like he was about to walk away, but his leg buckled and he stumbled. Hyett shot forward and grabbed the guy before he hit the ground.

“I gotcha,” he murmured, and damn if it didn’t feel good to hold his mate. Wesley instantly relaxed, although he wasn’t sure the guy even realized it. “I’m not your enemy. It’s okay to lean on someone if you need to.”

“I’m not helpless,” Wesley said in a calmer tone, but he still refused to look at Hyett.

“Nobody said you were,” he replied. “You seem pretty independent to me. Stubborn, but making it on your own.” Hyett saw how important independence was to his mate, and he had no intention of taking that away from him. But he would be damned if he saw Wesley struggling and not step in to help.

“Can you let me go?” Wesley asked.

Hyett didn’t want to. He liked having his mate in his arms. “Only if you’ll look at me.”

He sensed that Wesley had to use concentrated effort to turn his head and glance at him. Then Hyett saw it in his mate’s beautiful eyes. The flare of desire. He wasn’t sure why Wesley was fighting the attraction between them, but Hyett had no doubt it was there.

Thank fuck.

But just because Wesley desired him didn’t mean the guy wasn’t still rejecting him. “Why are you fighting it, hon?”

There was a vulnerable look in the human’s eyes, echoing his fears and pain, but then it vanished to be replaced once again by stubborn determination. “I looked at you. Can you please let me go now?”

Hyett had an uphill battle with his mate, but luckily, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.