Treeland Pack Tales 3: a Trace of Ivy
“Since he’d arrived early, it would be a while before his boss showed. Like the worst kind of pathetic dog, he had come hoping for a glimpse of Ivy. No luck. He’d driven by pack headquarters a dozen times in the past month without a single whiff of his mate. A breeze blew through the deserted pavilion, ruffling his hair. He tucked his hands into his pockets and stretched his legs toward the glowing fire pit. The attempt to get comfy didn’t touch the cold place in his chest. He rubbed his sternum.... It didn’t help the permanent ache. Nothing did.
“You look like shit.” Daniel dragged over a second bench and sat on the other side of the fire.
“Thanks for the ego deflation.”
“Stubborn old hound, ” his boss muttered. “Since you’re too stiff-necked to ask, I’ll tell you Ivy found an apartment for the three of them. They moved out more than a week ago.”
Chet braced his elbows on his knees and leaned over, studying his boots. They needed a good shine. He swallowed past the knot of pure sap in his throat.MoreLess
“You look like shit.” Daniel dragged over a second bench and sat on the other side of the fire.
“Thanks for the ego deflation.”
“Stubborn old hound, ” his boss muttered. “Since you’re too stiff-necked to ask, I’ll tell you Ivy found an apartment for the three of them. They moved out more than a week ago.”
Chet braced his elbows on his knees and leaned over, studying his boots. They needed a good shine. He swallowed past the knot of pure sap in his throat.MoreLess
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