Page 122 of Ice Rebel

This was my favorite place in the world. I’d also come to realize that from the traveling I’d done so far in playing hockey. I stood staring through the line of trees toward one of several waterfalls in the area.

The lagoon below had been the summer watering hole and not just for the Kendrick family, but for other shifter families. The area was surrounded by properties owned by our kind. Our species. The earth’s abomination. Whatever fucking pure blood humans wanted to call us.

We’d had picnics here, community gatherings and this had been the exact spot where my father had taught me how to shift into my wolf.

God, I’d been so scared, refusing to admit it to anyone.

“You’d been a terrified kid that day. I’ll never forget how brave you were trying to be, acting as if it was no big deal.”

Hearing Beck’s voice, I hung my head. “You’re reading my mind now?”

“Pretty damn easy to do, brother. Your anger inside your head is loud and clear. Anyone could read your damn mind right now.”

“Not anyone,” Ford chimed in as he flanked my side. “We’re special, brother. We’re blood. Our connection will always be tight. Always.”

“Blood. That’s more important than ever. How did you know I’d be here?” I glanced from one to the other.

“You love this place.” Beck sighed. “We all do.”

As the light breeze tickled my skin, I took several deep breaths in hopes of clearing my head. The scents were strong, exhilarating and inviting. It was as if the forest was calling to my wolf.

“The last place I shifted was right here.” The memory was now bittersweet. I’d done so to save my hockey career. Now I wasn’t certain if it mattered any longer.

“You can’t do this to yourself, Cole,” Beck told me. “Our father has a mind of his own. Maybe it’s time let go of the past.”

I walked closer to the pathway leading down to the water, peering over the craggy edge. I knew they’d follow. “You know what’s crazy? I always thought one day I’d be back. I’d raise a family here. We’d enjoy barbecues and movie nights. We’d laugh at stupid shit people did and my kids would never bring their phones to the dinner table.”

“Maybe you can still have that,” Ford said from behind me. “Beck and I talked about it. Maybe we could all go together to a bank and see what we’re dealing with.”

Of course, I’d thought more about the idea, including the logistics. “It won’t work, Ford. We don’t have any collateral.”

“Our name in the NHL.” Beck’s suggestion brought a smile.

With a snort, I glanced over my shoulder at him. “I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think it’s worth but so much.”

He acted like he wanted to punch me. “So what do we do now?”

Ford cocked his head, his eyes shimmering. “I have an idea.”

“Oh, God. Look out, world,” I muttered.

“We shift. Together. When was the last time we enjoyed running through the woods?”

Beck and I looked at each other while Ford was already in the process of stripping off his clothes. We normally waited until it was dusk, but what the hell?

“Why not?” I threw out, already ripping off my shirt. All the hype about humans transforming into wolves with their clothes on was crap.

As kids, shifting had always felt freeing mainly because our parents had encouraged us to embrace our wolves. While we’d been cautioned as to when doing so was appropriate versus other times that could be dangerous for our existence, their patience and support had made all the difference.

Somewhere along the way it had become bad or wrong. Or inconvenient. Couple that with feeling guilty about shifting so I could heal from an injury that would have been career ending for a full human and shifting had no longer interested me.

Maybe that’s why I’d been going about the motions in life as well as in playing hockey. Something had been missing.

The three of us looked at each other again before I took a deep breath, holding the air in my lungs. My wolf was forever present, which meant I didn’t need to call him or invoke some ritual. I only needed to make shifting okay for both of us. Safe and something I wanted.

You bet I did at this moment and there was no safer place.

At least for now.