It lands like a hand to my sternum.
“I—what?” I blink, caught off guard. “Ryan?”
“He asked who I was.” No anger. Just that dangerous stillness. “You just said my name, like I was anyone.”
I open my mouth; nothing sensible comes out at first. Heat crawls up my neck. “I… I didn’t think. He’s human, Holt. He doesn’t know what you are—what we are. Was I supposed to say, ‘This is Holt, my half-bear soulmate’?”
He doesn’t smile. His fingers spread a fraction at my waist.
“I wasn’t hiding you,” I say, words tumbling now, breath fogging the cold between us. “I was protecting… us. It felt private. Ours. And I don’t know what Ryan knows, or what Heather told him, and humans don’t exactly… take mates. Not like that.”
His throat works. A flicker of hurt shadows his gaze before he reins it in. He’s so still I can feel my own pulse beating against the steadiness of him.
“I wasn’t asking you to announce I’m a bear,” he goes on quietly. “Or that you belong to me. I just… wanted to know you weren’t pretending I’m nothing.”
“Holt—”
He exhales through his nose, shakes his head. “Forget it. It’s stupid. I don’t?—”
“It’s not stupid,” I interrupt, the air sharp in my lungs. “You’re right.”
He looks at me then, really looks, and there’s more pain in his eyes than he’ll ever say.
“I spent years thinking I was doing the right thing by staying away,” he says. “Now I’m here, and you won’t even claim me to a man who doesn’t mean a thing to you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not,” he admits. “But it’s how it felt.”
He takes a step back, the space between us colder than the wind could ever make it.
“I didn’t think I could care about words that much,” he says quietly.
Something in me twists hard at that — guilt, longing, a flash of panic that he might actually walk away.
I take a step after him, snow crunching under my boots.
“Holt, stop,” I say softly. “You matter. More than I know how to say.”
He half turns, but doesn’t meet my eyes. “Then why’d it sound like you were ashamed to say what I am?”
“I wasn’t ashamed.” I press a hand to my chest, trying to make him hear it. “I was overwhelmed. I’m still figuring out how to explain… I’ve never had a boyfriend before, let alone a… a forever partner.”
That gets a reaction—his head lifts, eyes flashing gold for a heartbeat. Then he exhales, a sound that’s half relief, half pain. His hand comes up slowly, fingers brushing a lock of hair from my face. “I hope you mean that, Lila. Because I don’t have it in me to lose you twice.”
I close the last of the distance, resting a hand against his chest where his heart hammers against my palm. “You’re not going to.”
He stays quiet for a long moment, his breath warm against the cold air, but I can feel it building in him—the tension, the unspoken thing tightening between us again.
Finally, he says it:
“You say you’re not leaving… but when you’re done here—when Heather comes back—what then?”
I blink up at him, thrown. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll go home,” he says simply. “Back to your life. Your friends. Your work.” His jaw flexes, eyes fixed on the snow instead of me. “You’ll go, because that’s what people do. They go back.”
“Holt…” My throat closes. “You think I want to leave this?” I choke out. “Leaveyou?”
