"So we just..." I waved my hand in the air between us. "Keep it easy and casual?”
"If that's what you want."
"Is that what you want?"
The words hung in the air and we stared at one another. I longed to say I wanted more but he apparently didn’t and I refused to be a love sick fool who had to be told no, sorry.
"I want you to be happy. Whatever that looks like."
He was being kind but I was tempted to stamp my feet and pummel his chest yelling that I had feelings for him and that my wolf had been pestering me for more than a friendship. But his words put an end to the subject and I wasn’t sure my heart would recover.
"Okay." I spoke in a monotone. "We can do casual."
"Okay."
The bell above the front door chimed.Hawthorn moved past me to serve the customer when our shoulders touched. The heat sizzled my skin and was almost painful. How I wanted to grab him and say I was lying, I didn’t want simple. I wanted him.
But I didn't. I sipped the coffee that had gone lukewarm, and it was as bitter as my mood, while Hawthorn chatted to Mrs. Trent about sourdough and the weather. Other customers cameand went and when the rush finally ended and the bakery was quiet again, I didn’t leave and we worked side by side making batches of cupcakes.
The easy rhythm we'd developed over the past weeks should have returned. Instead, every movement felt calculated as if we were both trying too hard to act normal.
I reached for the flour at the same time as Hawthorn. Our hands brushed against one another and I jerked back as though I’d been burned.
"Sorry."
"It's fine."
But none of this was fine.
He measured ingredients with hands that had explored every inch of my skin last night. My body remembered the weight and taste of him, and how he'd gasped my name. But now there was a distance between us that was impossible to cross.
Maybe this was for the best and trying to figure out what we were to each other was too complicated on top of everything else. I was still technically just passing through while trying to figure out my life. Getting attached would only make leaving harder.
Except I was already attached. My wolf knew it and I knew it. I'd been lying to myself for weeks, pretending this was just physical attraction and anything other than what it actually was.
But Hawthorn had made it clear he wanted casual. And I'd agreed because I was too much of a coward to admit I wanted more.
"I should probably head back to the lodge," I said eventually. "Get cleaned up properly."
Hawthorn didn’t look at me. "Yeah. Take tomorrow off too if you need it."
"I'll be here at the usual time. The cold's almost gone." I grabbed my coat. "Same time tomorrow."
I made it to the door before his voice stopped me.
"Zale."
I thought he might say he was wrong and he wanted something more.
“Your clothes and toiletries are upstairs.”
Damn, I raced up and shoved everything in my bag as my face burned with humiliation. I kept my head down as I walked back to the lodge through streets covered with fresh snow. Christmas lights twinkled in shop windows and carol singers were setting up in the town square. Everything was the same as when I'd first arrived, but I was different.
My wolf was miserable. He didn't understand why we'd left and we weren't in Hawthorn's den where we belonged.
I didn't have a good answer for him.
I had no idea how to fix this without admitting that I wanted something I'd sworn I wasn't ready for. And from what he’d said today, Hawthorn didn’t want it either.
