Slow Shift Nazarea Andrews (most difficult books to read .TXT) 📖

Chase. And I need to know why I just sent a man with no medical reason for being ill home with his brother who has no medical training or even the slightest idea how to deal with hospitals.”

Chase exhales slowly, defeat drooping his shoulders, and he gives in. “The car accident... Remember the car wreck the Reids were killed in?”

John frowns, but nods. “What do you remember about it?”

“Just you talking to mom. You didn’t think it was an accident.”

The scene of the wreck hadn’t added up—it was neat, almost clean, but the car burnt so hot it scorched the ground and tore through Andrew and Sarah Reid, killed their youngest daughter before she could be cut from the wreckage. It didn’t add up, even as it was ruled an accident, and Tyler Reid was a shattered thing after it, all fury and grief with a guilt that didn’t make sense. He remembered Chelsea, Tyler’s older sister, had dragged him out of town, and the investigation stopped when insurance investigators and crime scene investigators ruled it an accident.

But even while it was ruled an accident—it didn’t feel like one.

It never felt right.

“It wasn’t an accident,” Chase says now, firm and unwavering.

~*~

When Chase slips into the RV two days later, there are bags under his eyes and he’s swaying on his feet as he stumbles to the couch. Lucas is already tucked there and Chase slumps into him, pressing against him.

“Your dad?” Tyler asks.

Chase shakes his head. “I told him about the accident. Not the werewolf thing or the Drakes.” He yawns and slurs, “You gotta tell me about that, though, Ty.”

Tyler nods as he shakes a blanket out over the boy and curls up in the other corner of the couch, the warmth and comfort of Pack lulling him into sleep.

~*~

When Chase wakes, Lucas's arm has slipped around him, a heavy weight that grounds him in the moment, and Tyler’s head is tipped back, a small sliver of couch separating him from the older man. The sun is shining through the front of the RV, the way it does in the early evening now that the days have gotten shorter, and he realizes that somehow, they’ve slept the entire day away.

He doesn’t want to move. He doesn’t want to wake either of them, doesn’t want to wake up himself.

He thinks waking Tyler up and asking the questions—what does it mean, what are we doing, what am I doing here?—it’s going to change everything they’ve built. The quiet seclusion, the safe little hideaway where no one asks anything, where there’s only homework and workouts and rebuilding. It’s going to go away.

He burrows into Lucas's side and for the first time in a long time, he wants to cry.

He doesn’t sleep, not really. He just slips into that quiet place between sleeping and waking. Tyler’s hand on his ankle rouses him, holding loosely while his thumb presses over the pulse beneath his thin skin and pulls him fully awake, even as he presses deeper into Lucas.

“I don’t want to know,” he says, and Tyler’s grip on him tightens. “I don’t want to break this.”

Tyler’s grip goes bruisingly tight for just a moment, ringing his ankle in finger-shaped bruises.

“You won’t,” Tyler promises, “You can’t.”

Chase stares at him, tucked in the safety of Lucas's embrace, and takes a breath.

“Tell me everything.”

~*~

“Chelsea wouldn’t stay here after the accident—too many memories of our parents, too afraid of the witches. Harrisburg has always been Reid territory, and we never had a problem with other supernaturals, but the land... It draws other things. We used to see fae and kelpies, and one summer, when I was ten, we had a flock of griffon nest in the woods. Lucas was so pissed—we had feathers everywhere for months.”

Chase smiles, just a little.

“She wanted me to go with her, and I did for a while. I had to. She’s not just my sister. She’s my Alpha.”

“You came back,” Chase whispers.

“Chelsea... It wasn’t fair to expect her to be a good alpha. She wasn’t ready, and she was so scared—of the Drakes and the Council, of the power, of the memories. She ran and she never stopped. And I couldn't. Lucas—he’s Pack. I’d hurt enough—”

Tyler breaks off. Chase glances up, nudging his ankle a little to get Tyler’s attention.

“He was all alone and defenseless—and he’s Pack.”

Tyler stares at him, and he looks so lost, so confused, that it makes Chase wiggle out of Lucas's grip and crawl into Tyler’s lap.

“You did a good thing. Taking care of him—it’s a good thing.”

“I defied my Alpha, Chase,” Tyler says, voice low and hoarse. “Chelsea is still my Alpha—both of ours. But it’s only because if she wasn’t, she’d be an omega just like we are—lone wolves without a pack, slowly going crazy”

Chase shifts and glares at him, fierce and defensive. “You aren’t. You have a pack. We’re your Pack, Lucas and me. Chelsea—she’s not here. She doesn’t deserve to be your alpha and she sure as hell hasn’t earned your obedience.”

Tyler is staring at him, eyes wide with surprise, and Chase falters, wilting a little. “I mean... Lucas. Lucas is your Pack.”

Tyler’s hand comes up and closes over the nape of his neck, squeezing as he presses his nose to Chase’s temple. “No, you said you’re Pack. Don’t think for one second you can back out of that now.”

Chase smiles and tucks himself into Tyler, letting the drowsy tug of contentment settle the anger and confusion churning in his gut.

“Ok,” he says agreeably.

Lucas's hand, on the couch where it fell when Chase scrambled into Tyler’s lap, twitches.

Chapter 7

Chase goes to see Brielle.

He doesn’t tell Tyler, or even his dad, who doesn’t trust the Drakes after what Chase told him about the Reid accident. He just goes, one night when he’s alone and knows that Ben is busy with work and his mom.

She looks startled to see him and he smiles as she talks, the nervous babble of a girl who desperately wants approval. He