Kris T. Bethke–Author of M/M Romance

**This week, Ivan and I have decided to once again write to the same prompt. We’ve also decided to split it up into two parts. This week you get the break up. And tune in next Friday for the next part. Enjoy!**

Waiting was never the easiest thing for me, but I was doing my best. Okay, I was watching the clock as it ticked by each minute, silently counting seconds in my head. I’d been planning this for weeks, and I could not wait for Jesse to get here. Finally, the clock struck seven, and I bounced to my feet, practically vibrating. Not even thirty seconds later, I heard the knock on the door. My man was always punctual. When he didn’t immediately walk in, I strode toward it. That was unlike him. He’d been entering my house after a courtesy knock since the second week we’d been dating. I could hardly believe it had already been two years. Unaccustomed giddiness bubbled in my stomach, excitement at the night ahead.

But when I pulled the door open, my smile fell right off my face. Jesse looked terrible. His usually spiky dark hair sported telltale finger marks, and he only pushed his hands through his hair when he was nervous. He looked pale and wan, and immediately my heart clenched. Was he sick? Was something wrong? I mentally retraced our conversation earlier that day, wondering if he’d mentioned something I’d missed in my eagerness to invite him over tonight.

“Baby? What’s the matter?” I reached for him, trying to pull him in close, but he kept me at arms length and stepped into the front hall. He didn’t walk further into the house. His dark eyes were red rimmed, and as he looked up at me, his lip trembled. He was scaring me.

He took a deep breath. “Nathan, we need to talk.”

My stomach plummeted. The dreaded sentence nobody wanted to hear. But no, that couldn’t be what was happening here. I would know. This had to be something else. Reassured by my internal pep talk, I forced a smile, and said softly, “Sure. We can talk over dinner. I’ve got–”

“No.” He voice was quiet but firm, and he stepped back further to lean against the wall. Another deep breath.

I tried again to get him to move him inside. “Let’s go into the living room then and–”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

My blood ran cold at his whispered declaration. It froze me on the spot, unable to breathe, to move, to think. Everything came to a screeching halt as I stared at his beautiful, devastated face. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I tried again and again, until all I managed was a feeble, “What?”

“I’m sorry.” And his voice was still soft, but there was no mistaking the determination in his tone. “I love you. So much. But I can’t keep…I can’t be with you anymore. We have to end this.”

I knew I had to be imagining this. I just knew it. There was no way my boyfriend of two years was in my house, tonight of all nights, breaking up with me. We were happy. We laughed and fucked and talked all the time. If he’d been…less than satisfied with our situation, he would have told me. I would know. But he stood there before me, looking up at me with tear-wet eyes, and the truth settled into my gut. There was no way he’d be this upset if I was imagining it.

“I don’t understand,” I said. Because I didn’t. Less than a week ago, we’d spent the whole day on my couch watching terrible movies and cuddling until it eventually led to more. And now he was standing in my entryway and breaking up with me? What the fuck?

I only realized I’d said that last bit out loud when he flinched, his complexion going even grayer. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and drew a hiccuping breath. If he was hurting this badly saying goodbye then why was he saying it?

“Talk to me,” I pleaded. I wanted to reach out and touch him but everything about his posture was screaming that it would be a bad idea.

“You’re gone all the time.” He shook his head, and straightened, his shoulders squaring as he looked me in the eye. “You’re gone all the time and you work insane hours. There are weeks when I hardly see you. Months. And I’m tired of missing you. Worrying about you. About you not coming back to me when you’ve been gone. It’s exhausting. Loving you is too hard. And I just can’t do this to myself anymore.”

Anger flashed through me first, followed quickly by hurt. I had to make a concerted effort not to yell. “You knew I was a federal marshal when we started dating. You knew what I did. That I’d be gone and–”

“And I thought I could handle it!” Jesse sighed, and dropped his voice. “I thought I would get used to it, or that the fear would lessen over time. But it just gets worse and worse. Every time you go on assignment, have to transport a witness, hell, every day you go into work! I worry I’m going to get the call that you aren’t coming home again. And I just can’t anymore.”

For a minute, everything went black, sadness seeping into me. Then I shook my head and straightened up myself, because if that was his worry, then I could do something about it. “You should have said something, baby. Told me how you were feeling. I can change things. I can switched divisions, get a desk job, so I’m home and not out in the field–”

“No!” His shout cut me off, and finally I saw some anger from him, some of the passion that had drawn me to him in the first place. “Absolutely not. I don’t want you to change. You love the job, what you do, how you make a difference. I can’t, I won’t ask you to change any of that.”

“But if I’m offering, it’s different.” I tried for reasonable, but I sounded a little desperate, even to my own ears.

“If you change for me, you’ll end up resenting me, and we’ll only have put off the inevitable.” He sighed again and pushed off the wall, taking one step closer to me. “Maybe I’m just not the right one for you, did you think of that?”

“Never once,” I responded vehemently.

His smile was sad, and my heart cracked even further. “Then maybe,” he began softly as his gaze darted around my face, before once again locking with mine. “Maybe you’re not the right one for me.”

I felt the pain in my chest as if he’d stabbed me there, and I staggered back against the wall. This was it. This was happening, and nothing I could say or do could change his mind. I’d always loved his stubborn side, the one that went after what he wanted as soon as he’d made up his mind. But now it was working against me, ending the best thing that had ever happened to me. The love of my life wanted out, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. And I wasn’t about to try and make him stay where he didn’t want to be.

Jesse knew the moment I gave in, because a tear slipped down his cheek and he gave a single nod. “I love you, and I’m sorry. But this is the way it has to be.”

He stood on tiptoe to place a kiss on my cheek, then he turned fast, yanked the door open, and was gone.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, but it had to be awhile. The smell of something burning finally roused me from my stupor, and I shambled into the kitchen and turned off the oven. I removed the blackened casserole from inside and threw the whole pan so hard into the sink the glass dish broke. I didn’t care at all. I was numb. I couldn’t feel anything. How could I feel when Jesse had taken my heart with him when he walked out the door?

I punched the marble counter so hard I split the skin of my knuckles. I couldn’t even feel that, and didn’t care that I’d possibly broken my hand. Ignoring the blood, I walked to the table, and blew out the candles, leaving the place settings where they were. Then I reached into the basket of bread, and pulled out the small jeweler’s box I’d stashed there earlier. Flipping the lid open, I stared blankly at the platinum rings.

The tears came then, the emotion flooding my insides and pouring out my eyes. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d cried. That wasn’t me. But it made a twisted sort of sense that Jesse would be the one to bring that out of me.

How could he just walk away?

I grabbed the bottle of Jim Beam from the shelf above the sink, shoved the box into the back of the junk drawer, turned off all the lights, and sat in the dark, chugging whisky straight from the bottle.

This was supposed to be the first night of the rest of my life. Instead, it was the night my life ended.

**This week’s prompt is hurt/comfort. And Eli and Chase are back. (You can get Enchanted Love here) Enjoy!**

I usually hated Wednesdays because that was Chase’s late night, but tonight, I was grateful for the extra few hours before his smile proceeded him through the door. Maybe by the time he got home, some of the bruising would fade and the swelling would go down. I nursed my bourbon and tried not to watch the clock, counting down the hours until Chase breezed through the door.

Far too soon, I heard the click of the lock, his footsteps, and then his jovial voice. “Hey baby! I’m home. What do you–Jesus. What the fuck happened to you?”

I tried to smile without making my lip split again. “It’s nothing.”

“The hell it’s not!” Chase hardly ever got angry, but when he did, it was never without good reason. Apparently seeing his fiance wearing bruises on his jaw and around his eye, as well as a cut lip and cheek was a good reason. He looked murderous, and he ran across the room to take my face gently in his hand and tip it so he could inspect the damage. “What happened?”

For a long moment, I didn’t speak. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to worry, although that was a part of it. But there was only so much I could say, bound by confidentiality as I was. His fingers were gentle as he prodded at my wounds, but his eyes were blazing with fury. I needed to say something or my normally gallant and bighearted fiance would destroy the world. The thought made me smile, which made me wince, and I let out a sigh.

“A new resident.” That was all the information I needed to give. I knew he’d know I was talking about the Josef Adler House, the LGBTQ youth shelter I funded and operated. He volunteered there, but I didn’t know if the new resident would stay yet, so I was wary of sharing too much.

“One of the kids hit you? Eli, what the hell?” His voice went low, sort of dangerous, and I was quick to soothe him.

“Her father.” I sighed again, and gently eased out of his hold. “Who was under the mistaken impression his child was a boy.”

I saw the moment it dawned. The new resident was transgender, so it was even more imperative I kept things quiet. He studied me, even though the tension had drained out of him. Finally, he gave a single nod.

“You called security?”

“Of course,” I assured him. “Dimitri was already on duty, but he called in two others to keep things especially secure. There will be at least three guards on duty until this passes. And he reported the assault to the police.”

“Good.” Then he got up and walked away.

Huh. Not exactly the reaction I’d been expecting.

Not two minutes later, he returned. He handed me a bottle of water, and when I took it with my free hand, he confiscated my glass of bourbon. “You don’t need that. Take these.”

In his palm were two white pills, and I gratefully downed the aspirin with several large gulps of water. Once I was done, he took the bottle and set it on the coffee table, then lifted an ice pack and gently pressed it to the side of my face. I hissed at the cold, and Chase gave a mirthless laugh.

“Suck it up. You should have iced it right away.” He pulled the pack away and looked carefully at my cheek. “Do we need to get you checked out? He could have cracked your cheekbone.”

I tried not to melt under his ministrations. I loved him taking care of me like this, even if the reason for it left a lot to be desired. I leaned into his hold, and he immedately pulled me up against him, settling me against his chest so he could hold me and also keep the ice pack in place.

“No, I’m fine. Jenny checked me out and she assured me nothing was broken.” The NP we had on staff was well versed in every kind of bruise, laceration, broken bone, sprain, and strain. A lot of the kids we catered to faced violence at home or on the streets.

“All right. Twenty minutes with this on your face, and then a bath. Then more icing in bed.”

I wiggled a little, and tried to make my tone suggestive. “I can think of better things we can do in bed.”

Chase laughed, a more real sound, and kissed the uninjured side of my face. “Not tonight. Tonight, we take care of you.”

I hummed contentedly, and lifted his free hand so I could kiss his knuckles. I was careful to keep it away from the cut on the right side of my mouth. “I love you, Chase.”

“I love you too, baby.”

I knew he did. He showed it with his every action.

**This week’s prompt is for a wolf and a love confession. Enjoy!**

The radio crackled to life and Lou’s tinny voice sounded in the empty office. “He’s at it again.”

Cooper closed his eyes, worry seeping into his gut. He stood and grabbed the two-way radio, keying the mic on his way out the door. “I’m on my way.”

He pushed through the office door and beelined for his ATV. As director for the wild life rehabilitation facility, he had his own, while the rest of the staff shared. The place was almost seven hundred acres, it wasn’t like he could walk everywhere. And when he needed to get to an enclosure in a hurry, it was best he didn’t have to wait around for someone else to pick him up. Like now.

The timber wolf in question was a recent addition. The large male had been found in severely undernourished, covered with sores, and trapped in a tiny cage on some “collector’s” back property. He hadn’t been the only animal there, but the others–a black bear, a cougar, and Siberian tiger–were settling in fine. Eating, playing, healing. This wolf, however, continually became agitated, throwing himself at the fence of his enclosure, and snarling at anything that crossed his path. Cooper thought it was perhaps the twenty by twenty foot space still felt like a cage. But the staff couldn’t chance putting him somewhere larger.

But when the wolf got like this, Cooper’s presence seemed to calm him. No one could explain it. It didn’t make any sense, really.  Only Cooper could manage to soothe him. So Cooper rushed, knowing that the faster he got to the enclosure, the sooner the wolf would chill. Being that tense, that on guard, was detrimental to the wolf’s healing, and Cooper needed to know the wolf was okay.

He arrived a few minutes later, and jumped off the ATV the moment he brought it to a screeching halt. He didn’t even bother to walk around the enclosure, just went right up to the fence and got as close as he could. It took a moment for the wolf to realize he was there. But the moment he did, the wolf’s posture relaxed, and he padded over, his head held up and sniffing the air. He let out a whine/howl like noise, and sat right in front of the chain link, before laying down, head on his paws. He kept his gaze trained on Cooper but he was no longer agitated.

Cooper felt the inexplicable urge to reach through the chain link and touch the soft looking fur. Rub his fingers around those ears, along the broad head. But he knew better. For as docile as the wolf seemed in that moment, as he got every time Cooper came near, he was still a wild animal. Putting his fingers into the cage meant that Cooper would most likely be pulling back a stump. So he resisted the urge, though he sat on the ground almost close enough to touch. The wolf huffed out a breath, those amber eyes fixed pointedly on Cooper.

Three months this had been going on. Ever since Cooper and the staff had taken in the rescues from the horrible situation in which they found them, this wolf had been making strides in his recovery only to be set back with bouts of aggression, becoming territorial, and snarling and snapping. Cooper was at his wits end. Despite having worked with and rehabilitated dozens of wolves over the years, this male continued to stump him. While he wasn’t getting worse, he wasn’t getting better either.

So if Cooper sitting at the edge of his enclosure, doing nothing but being, helped this wolf, Cooper was beyond willing to do it. He’d do whatever it took to get this wolf back on the road to recovery, healthy and strong. He might not ever be able to go back in the wild, but he could be healthy and happy. And at this point, that’s all Cooper wanted. He’d been sitting here every couple of days for three months now. He’d do it every couple of days for the rest the wolf’s life if necessary

He leaned closer, keeping his gaze fixed on the wolf without making it a direct challenge. He did his best to keep his posture as non-threatening as possible. Slowly, Cooper breathed out, and whispered, “I’m not giving up on you. We’ll get you fixed up. I promise.” Cooper could swear the wolf’s ears pricked forward so Cooper said exactly what he was feeling. “I love you, buddy. It’s going to be fine.”

The wolf pushed up onto his feet, howled, whined, gave an all mighty shake, and shifted into a man.

Cooper stared at the naked man where his beloved wolf had once been. “Holy. Shit.”

 

**The prompt this week features the Eli and Chase from my newest release Enchanted Love! You can find buy links here, if you haven’t already. The prompt: a lost item and a replacement. Enjoy!**

It was irrational to be so upset. I knew that. And yet, I couldn’t stop the dismay that bubbled in my chest, or the ridiculous tears that prickled in my eyes. My breath was coming out in fast pants as I searched. Ripping apart our luggage, tossing things aside, moving the same piles over and over, convinced if I just shook out the right pair of pants or looked under the right shirt, there they’d be.

“Baby.” Chase’s voice was low and soothing, but I ignore him, tossing more clothes over my shoulder as I went through another pile I’d already pawed through at least a dozen times.

“Eli, sweetheart. Calm down.”

“Don’t,” I bit out, voice low, tone menacing.

He sighed, and I could hear the pain in it. Even knowing it was not because my words hurt him, and instead because he was upset that I was upset didn’t do anything to help. I groaned out my frustration, and pushed my hands through my hair, turning in a circle, trying to see if there was something I hadn’t gone through yet.

“Where did you last see them?” Chase tried, that patient tone meant to soothe. I tried to rein in my emotions enough to answer him.

“In our suite. At Halekulani Hotel. The morning we left.”

Chase’s smile was wicked, and his eyes blazed with lust. That was enough to have me remembering it too. Our honeymoon in Hawaii had been amazing, and that morning, we’d packed in a rush because we’d overslept and were about to miss our flight. Overslept because we’d spent our last night making love so many times that neither of us could move. It had been more than twenty four hours, and I could still feel him inside me.

Chase cleared his throat, and his expression turned sorrowful. “Did you, uh, leave them?”

For a second, the sadness threatened to overwhelm me. I choked down my tears and sat heavily on the end of the bed.

“I must have,” I whispered.

He made a sympathetic sound and came closer. When I didn’t move, he sat beside me and pulled me into his arms. I curled against him, reveling in his warmth and tried not to cry.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

I nodded, my stubble scraping roughly against his t-shirt. I let out a sigh. They were only a pair of flip flops. Not even new. And I knew it was silly to be so upset about having lost them, but I just couldn’t help it. But I’d been wearing them the day I met Chase. Hell, I’d met the love of my life because of the flip flops. The sentimental value far outweighed the shoes, even as expensive as they were. It was all about what they meant to me, and not the flip flops themselves. I wrapped my arms around my husband, and let his strength shore me up in the face of my loss.

***

Three days later, I was surprised when I pushed through the door of our apartment and saw Chase sitting on the couch. Wednesdays were his late days, so I didn’t usually see him until at least nine. But there he was, looking freshly showered, and smiling wide enough I was afraid his face would crack. That was a smile I loved to see, and I found myself grinning in response. How had I been lucky enough to meet him, let alone get to call him mine forever?

“Hey, baby.” He stood up. “I got you something.”

“Oh yeah?” I waggled my eyebrows suggestively. Chase laughed, and I had to shake my head. Perhaps my try at seduction hadn’t been great. Usually all I had to do was smile at him and he was ready to take me to bed.

“After.” He chuckled again, then bent to pick up a box that had been laying on the couch. “Here.”

I looked into his eyes, curious, but he wasn’t giving anything away. With a shrug, I ripped off the paper to find a shoe box. My breath caught when I lifted the lid. Inside were a pair of flip flops exactly like the ones I’d lost. A perfect replica, even if they weren’t worn and beat to hell. I lifted one reverently, and the tears sprang to my eyes. I blinked fast.

Chase’s smile softened. “Well, you know. It’s not the same as the ones–”

“They’re perfect. Like exactly the same pair. How did you…?”

He walked closer and cupped my jaw, lifting my gaze to his. “They were the reason we met. I had no trouble finding them because every detail is burned into my brain.”

I tossed the shoes on the couch and threw myself into his arms, squeezing tightly even as I lifted so I could press my lips to his. The thought he’d put into the gift didn’t surprise me–that was Chase through and through–but that he’d taken such care touched me down to my soul. I already knew I’d made the right choice when I’d claimed him as mine. This just reaffirmed it.

“I love you, Sir Chase the Goodhearted.”

He grinned, then his smile turned wicked. “Wanna see my sword?”

I cackled and raced him to the bedroom.