Prologue
Ryder gritted his teeth and chucked the chair as hard as he could against the wall of the trailer. It shattered into a thousand splinters over the old shredded couch. He fucking hated this. He fucking hated everything.
His insides were molten, and every muscle was filled with adrenaline that made it impossible to stay still. She’d ended it. Ended them. Ended him.
One stupid text had ruined his life. A text! He’d loved Erica with everything he had and she’d broken up with him via text?
He shoved over an old table and kicked viciously at the debris on the floor.
This is what Clinton did when he got filled with too much emotion. He came into the Trash Trailer and destroyed shit. Right now, Ryder was so mad his inner owl wouldn’t even come out.
Ryder threw a vase against the wall, but it didn’t ease the hurt in his chest. He squatted down, overwhelmed that nothing was helping. Hands gripping the back of his neck, he screamed as loud as he could.
“Boy, what are you doin’?” Clinton asked from the doorway.
“What you do when you’re pissed.”
The crunch of Clinton’s boots on glass was loud in the quiet of the trailer. He lifted Ryder by the neck of the shirt and shoved him roughly into the only chair Ryder hadn’t destroyed. Then the tall, dirty blond, bearded Crazy Clinton leaned his back against a dresser he’d stripped the drawers from and crossed his arms over his chest. “I know what this is about.”
“You don’t know nothin’,” Ryder argued.
“Boy, talk to me like that again, and I’ll whoop your ass.”
Ryder believed it, too, so like the wise owl he was, he zipped his lips.
“I’ve watched you act out for years now,” Clinton murmured, eyes narrowed, head cocked. “You got somethin’ deep in you that you can’t fill. I know that feeling.”
“She was it for me.”
“Erica wasn’t it. She liked the idea of dating a shifter, didn’t matter who it was.”
“I mattered!”
“Not like you should’ve. Trust me. She ain’t it.”
Ryder huffed a humorless breath and nudged the jagged shards of the vase that had scattered across the floor with the toe of his boot. He shook his head in denial.
“You’re eighteen—”
“You bonded when you were a kid.”
“Yeah, and it almost broke me! Why do you want a bond so fucking bad right now, kid? Huh? It’s hard. It fills your head. I mean shit, live a little before you tether yourself to someone else. Find yourself. Make yourself good enough to care for a mate before you go trying to force a bond.”
More crunching glass, and now Ryder’s stepdad, Mason, was standing in the doorway. “Erica?” he asked in that deep tenor that should’ve soothed Ryder, but right now it only made him feel like his feathers had been ruffled the wrong way. He didn’t want Mason or mom worrying.
“She ended it with me. I’m fine.” Ryder murmured.
“You aren’t.” Mason squatted near Clinton, his dark eyes earnest. He turned a splintered table leg over and over in his hand like he was mulling over what he wanted to say. “Just because this didn’t work out doesn’t mean you fell short.”
“It does.”
“It doesn’t, Ryder. You have it in your head that you aren’t enough, and boy, I swear you are.”
“Not for Erica. Not for…” His real dad. That asshole was the one who put the hole in his middle in the first place. No one could fix it. No one could fix him. “I want what you and Mom have,” Ryder admitted low to Mason. “I want someone to see me and want me as much as I want them. I want to take care of them. I want kids. I want happy ever after.”
“But you’re not there yet,” Mason said softly. “You’re young, Ryder. You haven’t met her, but someday you will.”
“When?”
Mason shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Beaston told me he couldn’t see my mate.”
“Beaston don’t see everything,” Clinton muttered. “That don’t mean you won’t find one.”
“I just have this feeling that I’m going to be one of those bachelor shifters who won’t be able to bond to a mate. I won’t be able to get it to stick.”
Mason stood and sauntered over to him, pulled his head against his side, and clapped his back roughly. “Air Ryder, you got me to stick with a look. From the first time I saw you, you were my boy. You’re enough.”
Ryder relaxed against the man who had come into his life and become his father, no questions asked. The fire in his middle cooled, and he squeezed his eyes tightly closed. Mason had given him everything—a home, a place in the Boarlander Crew. He made Mom happy.
So why the hell did Ryder still feel so wild?
“You want to go piss off the roof and set somethin’ on fire?” Clinton asked.
Ryder let off a single, soft laugh and nodded. “Yeah.”
He stood and gave Mason a rough hug, then ducked out of the way when he ruffled his hair.
“Maybe you’ll get the girl next time,” Mason said.
Ryder turned at the door and offered the man who’d raised him a slight smile so he wouldn’t worry. “Maybe so.”
God, did he hope. He couldn’t even imagine the pain of being a ship at sea forever without finding his anchor.
Chapter One