Somewhere New (Isle of Doughnut #1)

Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CALLUM

C onsciousness dawned slowly. The first sign of something odd. Most mornings, I jolted awake, and I tore out of panicked nightmares several times during the night.

There was none of this gentle rising from sleep.

I snuggled into the delicious warmth beside me. That was unusual too. Since relegating myself to the sofa, I spent several minutes each morning waiting for my healing to soothe away the aches caused by sleeping on something too narrow and cold.

Each morning, I rose before the sun. Now, pinkish light filtered through my closed eyelids. I felt well rested. I hadn’t experienced that in years.

I blinked, and the last steps towards full awareness were taken at a wild sprint.

I was in bed with Aster.

Not just in bed with him. I curled around him, my chest snug against his back, my legs threaded through his. My face hid in the gentle valley between his shoulder blades .

Thoughts galloping, I desperately fought to recall how I’d gotten here.

Flashes of bloodstained memories surfaced. Fighting through snow for hours. The seemingly unending screams of goats. Pulling the baby goat from his mother’s body.

And Aster. Feeding me. Caring for the kid. Waiting for me to come home and sink into his arms.

In my sleep-deprived state last night, I’d taken that final one far too literally. I remembered being so cold I could barely think. After I’d doused myself in a warm shower that took the edge off my shivering, Aster’s sleeping form in my bed had called to me. I wanted to be close to him, to reward myself for a day of the hardest labour by cocooning myself in his scent.

I vaguely remembered checking he didn’t mind. His heart hadn’t skipped a beat, but he could have been acting out of obligation. There were too many different ways he could have made peace with me climbing into bed with him.

Before I could escape and leave Aster to wonder if he’d imagined me imposing on him, he stretched in the circle of my arms. His back muscles pulled taut across my stomach. For a second, his bum pressed into my groin.

Aster shucked off blankets and he shuffled to the edge of the bed, disguising my choked moan. He sat up and looked at me, his eyes widening when he saw I was awake.

‘Morning, Callum.’ He smiled, one cheek crisscrossed with lines from his pillow.

‘Aster, was it okay that I slept here last night?’ If it wasn’t, I needed to apologise and make it clear it wouldn’t happen again.

‘It was fine.’ Aster stood and walked to the bathroom. ‘After enduring a couple of hours on the sofa, I can understand the appeal of snuggling up with me. Maybe we should share the bed from now on.’

I reeled back, appalled Aster would assume I’d muscle my way into his space to avoid discomfort.

His face fell, then he turned away. ‘Don’t worry, bud. I won’t make you sleep with me, but now I know how horrible that demon-sofa is, there’s no way I’m hogging the bed.’

The bathroom door swished shut behind him. I lay back as the shower started up. Aster couldn’t dictate our sleeping arrangements. Unlike me, he slept deeply. He hadn’t woken any night when I’d carried him through from the sofa. I didn’t expect that to change.

I rubbed my head on the pillow to clear the fuzz of sleep. Aster said he hadn’t minded me climbing into bed with him, claimed he was fine with it happening again, but I wasn’t about to repeat it. He’d said before it was weird that Bonnie hadn’t provided a place for him to stay that had two beds. No matter how wonderful it was to sleep dreamlessly and wake with a warm body curled in my arms, I wasn’t going to force Aster to do anything he was uncomfortable with.

The shower shut off, and I fled into the main room. Aster wouldn’t forget last night but the fewer reminders, the better. He was bound to feel awkward if I lazed around in bed while he changed.

I distracted myself from imagining pale skin dotted with freckles by checking on the kid. He wagged his tail as I examined his legs and listened to his heartbeat. Hale and strong.

‘His name is Tim,’ Aster said from the bedroom doorway after he’d gotten dressed.

I scratched under the baby’s chin. ‘He needs a name. He won’t be wild if he’s hand reared by us.’

Us. Not me . Aster couldn’t possibly know how much of a relief it was that I wouldn’t have to shoulder this burden alone, that he wouldn’t let me.

‘You’ll call him Tim then?’ Aster wandered over to the kitchen and started prepping a bottle. I watched him measure out formula and add water from the kettle, my chest swelling with something warm and bright.

‘I’ll call him Tim,’ I said as Aster knelt on the rug beside me.

He nudged me with his elbow. ‘Now I only have to get you to accept Albert’s name is Albert, and we can be a big happy family.’

I stood and rushed to the kitchen before Aster could see how his words affected me.

I wanted that. I wanted Aster and me to be a unit. Not just for now, while we cared for this baby goat, but always.

But it would only ever be a joke to him. He had a limited amount of time on the island, and then he’d be gone.

I couldn’t have Aster forever, and not in all the ways I wanted him. Instead, I’d take whatever I could get. Temporary help and limited closeness. Better than the nothing I’d endured for years.

‘You’re making porridge, right?’ Aster called across the room while he fed Tim. ‘I attempted to make my own breakfast yesterday and even Albert turned his nose up at it.’

I frowned at the pile of oats in the pan. ‘That goat eats socks.’

‘Does that tell you something about the quality of porridge I was able to produce?’

I almost offered to show him how it was done, but stopped myself. While Aster was here, it was unlikely any more freak snowstorms or emergencies would carry me away from our set routine. I liked making breakfast each morning, liked caring for him in this way. I didn’t want him to be helpless without me, but I wanted to do things for him while he was around.

By the time I poured creamy oats into two bowls and topped them with dried fruit and honey, Aster had finished feeding Tim and grabbed his laptop. He set it on the small side table we used to watch the hours of TV he insisted were mandatory, and snuggled under a couple of blankets.

‘You can have a snow day today, right?’ He reached up to take one of the bowls.

‘What exactly does a snow day entail?’ I settled on the other side of the sofa, leaving a respectful distance between us.

Aster groaned around his first mouthful of porridge. I looked away before I could stare at him licking his lips.

‘Lazing around, watching films, being cosy.’ Aster wiggled his jumper-clad shoulders and pulled the blanket up to reveal his pyjama bottoms. ‘Wear comfy clothes and generally doss around.’

It sounded appealing. I hadn’t had a whole day off in years. I cocked my head to one side and listened. No calls of distress echoed across the snow-covered mountains. Normally, I’d check on the goats every day until the snow melted, but they never needed anything. They blinked at me from their cosy huddles inside the shelters dotted across the island, my presence an unwelcome intrusion.

I was still wearing the jogging bottoms and loose T-shirt I’d thrown on last night. I grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa and eased into the plump cushions. ‘I can do a snow day.’

The delight cresting over Aster’s face justified the change in routine. ‘First order of business; we need to watch Frozen .’

Minutes later, the question Aster sang through the door yesterday morning made sense. I got distracted during the songs by Aster singing along under his breath, about half of his words matching the ones in the film.

‘You loved it, right?’ Aster asked as the credits rolled.

This was his first question after everything he showed me. I’d learnt the correct response. ‘Yes.’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘Like, really loved it? Or you’re just agreeing to stop the barrage of Frozen trivia coming your way if you try to say this film is anything less than exemplary?’

‘If I promise I liked it, will that stop the trivia?’

Aster laughed. ‘Do you know they brought in live reindeer so that the animators could get Sven’s movements right?’

‘I did not know that.’ The credits finished, and a box appeared at the bottom of the screen. ‘There’s a second one.’

Aster’s head snapped to the laptop, and he clicked furiously away from the film attempting to play itself. ‘There is, but as with so many unfathomably glorious films, the second one missed the mark. The only series that really got it right was Toy Story . Man, those get better and better. Until the fourth one. But by general consensus the world has collectively forgotten that aberration.’

‘I didn’t realise there was more than one Toy Story .’

Aster turned from the screen, his face slack. ‘You’ve watched Toy Story ? You, Callum Armstrong, have watched a film independent of my tutelage?’

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, since Kit said it made me look remarkably like Bonnie. No one wanted that.

‘I watched it when I was little. With my dad. ’

Aster’s face softened. ‘Tell me about him?’

Since Aster had offered a space to speak about my family, I’d agonised about how to start the conversation. But all it took was one short sentence.

I swallowed. I wanted this, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t difficult.

‘He was a stay-at-home dad. Mum was the mayor before Bonnie, so she was out a lot. Dad stayed home with us when the weather was bad or me or one of my sisters got sick, and we’d watch films together.’

It wasn’t too dissimilar to Aster’s snow day. Except there was a lot more touching. We were always touching back then. Hands on shoulders, legs casually thrown over one another, fingers coasting through hair. I’d ached for casual affection when I first came up into the mountains.

‘I have questions.’ Aster turned towards me, his legs folded under a blanket. ‘I need to know more about your dad, who from the little you’ve said seems like a brilliant decision maker. And seriously, is there a weird rule that someone in your family has to be mayor and why the hell did the island-folk pick a known arsehole over you? Also, I want to know more about these films.’

‘We watched all kinds of things.’ I alighted on the easiest question. ‘My favourite was Shrek . Bonnie liked The Little Mermaid . May, my little sister, had too many favourites to name them all.’

‘A woman after my own heart.’

I nodded. ‘You would have liked her.’

Sometimes, when for unknown reasons the pathways in my mind leading towards my family weren’t lined with lancing thorns, I imagined what they would have been like if they were still alive. Mum would have been similar, though more bored of the islanders’ antics. Dad might have gotten a job once we got older. He would have been a good teacher. Uncle Paul would have taught me about ranging the island, between sarcastic jibes.

May would have been a lot like Aster. Puppy-like energy and unstoppable enthusiasm.

I flinched when fingers ran across the back of my hand. Before Aster could move away, I entwined them through mine.

He wiggled closer to hold my hand comfortably. ‘Lost for you a moment there, big guy.’

‘I haven’t talked about any of this for a long time.’ Ever, to be precise.

‘We don’t have to talk about it any more, if you don’t want to.’ Aster rested his head on the back of the sofa.

‘I want to,’ I assured him. ‘You wanted to know more about my dad?’

‘Absolutely.’

I told Aster the highlights. Dad’s love of cooking, which he’d passed down to me. The quiet way he defused fights between me and my sisters. How he’d listen to our problems and never dismissed anything as childish or silly. His gentle humour, which loosened Mum up when she came home wound tight by the persistent pettiness of some islanders.

‘How did Bonnie get the mayor job after your mum died? It was rigged, right?’

Aster was close to the truth. Something in people, even those who didn’t know werewolves existed, responded to the authority of an Alpha. My mum had run unopposed as mayor until she died, and people had barely blinked when Bonnie took up the role.

‘It helped that no one else wanted the job,’ I deflected.

‘Please tell me she doesn’t have supreme power.’ Aster recoiled in mock horror, his hand tugging at mine but not letting go. ‘There has to be someone on this island who keeps her in check.’

‘There’s a committee.’

I bit my lip. Like he could sense the darkness rushing up inside me, Aster’s expression morphed to gentle concern.

‘Remember, we’re only talking about what you want to.’

‘I want to talk about this.’ I needed to. It had taken too long for the floodgates to open. I didn’t want them to slam shut before I said the things that were really important. The things that needed to be exhumed and brought out into the air.

‘George White was on the committee when my mum was mayor,’ I said in a rush. ‘The Whites had always lived on the island. They owned the brewery before Joshua’s family moved here. Growing up, me and my sisters were friends with George’s granddaughter.’

My throat closed up when I tried to say her name. I squeezed my eyes shut and tightened my grip on Aster’s hand.

‘Do you want me to say it?’ he asked, confirming he’d gone snooping. I didn’t mind. It meant he could help me now.

I nodded, hitching my shoulders up around my ears.

‘Naomi.’

I breathed out in an explosive gasp. Not quite a sob, but it drew unplumbed sadness up through my chest. Ever since the court case, I’d not said her name. I’d not even heard it.

I opened my eyes and looked into Aster’s deep brown ones. His thumb stroked back and forth across my knuckles .

He shuffled forwards so that his knees perched on top of my thigh. ‘She was your friend?’

‘On the island, there wasn’t much choice of who to play with as a child.’ Not that I would have decided any differently. With her blonde pigtails and blue eyes, Naomi had fascinated me. ‘She was the same age as me so she played with my sisters as well, but she was my friend.’

A line formed between Aster’s eyebrows. ‘What happened?’

How did someone go from being my best friend to murdering my whole family?

‘She found out something about me and my family. I told her a secret.’

This was why the blame for the majority of the people I’d loved dying could be laid at my feet. I’d gotten too close to someone I didn’t recognise as a monster, and I’d told them the one thing that would make them turn.

‘What was the secret?’ Aster asked.

I opened my mouth, then slammed it shut. Aster slapped himself on the forehead with his free hand.

‘Stupid question. Of course you’re not going to tell me something that turned your bestie into a crazed maniac. Please proceed as though I hadn’t proven, yet again, that I’m the world’s biggest moron.’

‘You’re not a moron, Aster.’ I frowned. ‘But I’m not going to tell you.’

Aster wasn’t Naomi. I’d been transfixed with her, so I hadn’t spotted the mean streak running a mile wide through all her words and actions. I might be captivated by Aster, but I prided myself on seeing things a little clearer. Aster was bright and beautiful and talked a mile a minute, and he was anything but mean .

But I couldn’t tell him my secret. My pack’s secret. It wasn’t something I’d ever share again unless I absolutely had to.

‘She refused to talk to me after I told her.’ I’d been panicked in those few days after I’d revealed my true nature, sure she would reject me or tell the world. The reality was far worse. ‘While I was worried about her, she shared the secret with her family. Her parents were shocked, but the most they wanted to do was move off the island. It was her grandad, George, who helped her make a plan.’

I licked my lips. My grip on Aster’s hand must have been painful, but he didn’t ask me to loosen up.

‘They waited until we should have all been home. Everyone on the island knows everyone else’s business, so it wasn’t hard for them to figure out when to trap us. Naomi told my family there was some emergency, that they had to leave.’

‘But you and Bonnie got out?’ Aster interjected.

I shook my head. ‘We’d snuck off. Bonnie had seen how much I was struggling, and she said getting out would do me good. That the storm would blow away my mopiness.’

She’d wanted to teach me how to fully shift while the wind howled around us. I’d only managed a half shift before, and since.

‘We saw a boat out in the bay.’ And heard the screams as it filled with water. ‘But by the time we got down to the shore, it was too late.’

Naomi and her grandfather had done their research. They knew silver would create a barrier none of us could cross. No member of my family could escape the boat. Bonnie and I couldn’t get in.

I loosened my hold on Aster. He’d want to get away soon. He didn’t seem to have made the connection yet, but once I spelt out my guilt I wouldn’t stop him pulling his hand from mine.

‘I killed them, Aster. It’s my fault they died.’

Aster recoiled, but not in the way I’d expected. His face scrunched and he went through the same series of curious arm movements as when he’d discovered my lack of TV knowledge.

‘What? How? Your fault?’ He shook his head and placed a hand on his chest. The other tightened in mine, his fingers slotting into place.

I stared at our hands, sure this would be the last time he’d touch me once he fully understood. ‘It’s my fault my family were killed. I shouldn’t have told anyone our secret. Because I did, they all died.’

Aster’s hand gripped mine. He shook his head in exaggerated movements.

‘No, Callum. So much no.’ He looked up to the ceiling, silent words forming on his lips. ‘Your logic is messed up.’

I frowned. ‘Do you not understand what I’m saying?’

Aster hummed, pinching his lips together. ‘It’s you who doesn’t understand.’ He held up his hand. ‘Give me a second to lay this out for you. Then, if you still have some twisted belief that you’re a mass murderer, we’ll deal with it.’

‘I didn’t tell you this so that you could try to make me feel better.’

Aster was undeterred by the strength of my glare. ‘Callum, I am absolutely not going to say anything to make you feel better. It might have that effect, but it’s not the purpose.’ He sighed. ‘You’ve not talked about this for too long. It’s gotten all tangled up and warped.’

I wanted to pull my hand from his. It was impossible that he’d know exactly how the barrier I kept up around memories of my family would feel. Like a maze of shifting thorns. I couldn’t think about them—not even the good times—because I didn’t deserve to. Bonnie wouldn’t let me talk about the storm for a reason.

‘Please, Cal. Will you listen to me?’ Aster held on to my hand.

I gave him a single nod. The sooner he said whatever nonsense was in his head, the sooner I could correct him and we would start along the path of him recognising I was a horrible person.

I’d wanted to tell him the truth because I needed it out of me. It had spent too long in the dark, unsaid. Even if it meant I lost the closeness we shared much earlier than I had to, it was worth it. I didn’t want to keep the poisonous words inside any more.

‘Right. Got to say this good. Perfect. Great start, Aster,’ he muttered. His face was set when he looked up at me, his eyes boring into mine. ‘Okay, so you told Naomi a family secret?’

I nodded.

‘And why did you tell her that secret?’

I frowned. I hadn’t thought about that in a long time. Revealing my family’s true nature had led to such awful consequences, I’d not considered why I’d done it in the first place.

‘I guess I wanted her to know.’ I’d always had a chronic need to be known, fully.

‘You wanted her to know,’ Aster repeated. ‘That’s a good reason, Callum.’

I stared at him, unsure where he was headed. His throat bobbed as he swallowed .

‘What you didn’t want, after making your confession, is for her to go off and murder your family.’

I blinked. Obviously, that hadn’t occurred to me.

‘Don’t you see, Cal?’ Aster squeezed my hand. ‘No matter what you told her, no matter how shocking it was, it doesn’t make a difference. You hadn’t considered the possibility of her killing your family when you told her the truth. You just wanted to be known. So how could what she did be your fault?’

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words abandoned me. Because Aster was right. I hadn’t had any inkling that telling Naomi my family were a pack of werewolves would send her into a murderous rage.

Maybe that was where I was to blame. I’d carried this guilt for so long. It had to come from somewhere.

‘I should have known what she was capable of.’

Aster shook his head gently. ‘Callum, how could you have imagined someone you thought was your friend would turn on you in such a terrible way?’

‘I knew she was mean.’ I sucked in a breath. I was panting for some reason. ‘I should have suspected what she would do.’

‘There’s a long way between someone being mean and someone being a murderer,’ Aster said over my rattling breaths. ‘I don’t care what your secret is. I don’t care how shocking or confusing it is. Nothing excuses what she did.’ Aster squeezed my hand. ‘Naomi took something you’d told her because you wanted to be known, and she twisted it into a reason to kill your family. You couldn’t have predicted she would do that, so you can’t be blamed. Cal, nothing of what happened was your fault.’

I tore my hand from Aster’s and pushed my fingers into my hair. ‘That doesn’t make sense,’ I growled, hoping the claws sending pinpricks of pain into my scalp were hidden. ‘If I’m not to blame, then why do I feel so guilty?’

Aster’s hands landed on my forearms. He didn’t try to pull my hands away from my head, but dug his fingers into my straining muscles.

‘My guess is survivor’s guilt? All twisted up because you weren’t given a chance to talk any of this through.’ Aster squeezed my arms. ‘It’s much easier to blame yourself than accept that one innocent action set off something that you couldn’t have ever known was lurking. It’s easier to blame yourself than face the fact that you’re alive while a whole load of people you loved died so needlessly.’

I shuddered with each breath tearing over my lips, the claws piercing my scalp creating a counterpoint of pain for the howling storm inside of me.

For so long, I’d believed I was to blame for the death of my family. But what Aster said made sense.

I’d trusted the wrong person with my secret. My desire to be known wasn’t a bad thing. It wasn’t my fault I hadn’t spotted something evil inside of someone who was supposed to be my friend. I’d trusted her, and she’d betrayed me in the worst possible of ways.

The ache in my chest that had been present since my family died cracked, revealing a deep and unhealed wound. I’d been so fixated on my guilt before that I’d never looked behind it. I’d never had to face what I’d lost.

I’d made one tiny mistake—the consequences of which were out of my control—and that misstep had cost me almost my entire family.

I didn’t realise my claws had retracted. I didn’t realise I’d dropped my hands. I didn’t realise I’d fallen into the waiting grip of Aster’s arms.

I didn’t realise I was crying until I resurfaced from the fog of grief, sobbing into the chest of the man who’d shown me the truth. The man who’d stripped away my guilt and shame.

I wanted to thank him, but now the tears had come they wouldn’t stop. For a long time, I stayed cradled in Aster’s arms.

‘You’re okay, Cal,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve got you.’

I held him tighter as more tears came. I wanted him to have me. Always.