“I’m sorry,” I say, the words inadequate but necessary. “I couldn’t save you. And I’ve been using that as an excuse to avoid living ever since.”
The wind picks up, sending a shower of pine needles cascading around me. For a moment, just a moment, I imagineit’s Jamie’s response—her permission to move forward, to stop punishing myself for a tragedy I couldn’t prevent.
“I’m going to talk to Holly,” I decide aloud. “Really talk to her. Figure out what this bond means for both of us. Maybe even...” I hesitate, the word feeling foreign on my tongue, “...date her. Like normal people do, if that’s what she wants.”
The idea is terrifying, even as it settles around me like a warm blanket in the cold. Dating. Such an ordinary concept, yet one I’ve avoided for two years. Could it really be that simple? Probably not, given the complications of our professional relationship and the bond, but it’s a start.
I shoulder my backpack and turn away from the vista, heading back down the trail with more purpose than I’ve felt in days. As I descend, I mentally rehearse what I’ll say to Holly.
I’m sorry for avoiding you. The bond caught me off guard, and I needed time to process it.
Too clinical.
I’ve been a complete ass. Can we start over?
Too flippant.
I’m scared of how much I want you, of how easily you could become everything to me.
Too honest. Way too honest.
By the time I reach my Land Rover, I’ve cycled through a dozen potential openings, none of them quite right. Maybe there are no perfect words for this situation. Maybe I just need to be present and honest, whatever that looks like in the moment.
I drive down the mountain with the windows open, letting the cool air clear my head. The closer I get to town, to Holly, the stronger our connection feels. The rubber band relaxes, the tension easing as the distance between us shrinks. I can sense her more clearly now—she’s not at the clinic, but at the house. She feels... content. Happy, even. The realization brings both relief and an unexpected twinge of something darker. Has shealready moved past the confusion and decided that she’s better off without me?
I park in the driveway beside Grayson’s truck and Kai’s ridiculous sports car. Holly’s sensible sedan is there too, confirming she’s here. For a moment, I sit in the silence of my car, gathering courage. Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I get out and walk to the door.
The house is quiet as I enter, but not silent. The faint strains of the Star Wars theme song drift from somewhere deeper inside. I follow the sound to the den, where I find a scene that stops me in my tracks.
The room has been transformed into an elaborate pillow fort, sheets draped over furniture to create a tent-like structure illuminated by string lights. The remains of what looks like a feast are scattered across the coffee table—pizza crusts, empty beer bottles, bowls with dried sauce residue. And in the middle of it all, Kai lies sprawled on his back, one arm flung dramatically over his eyes, snoring softly.
Something twists in my chest—a complicated emotion I can’t immediately name. While I’ve been brooding on a mountainside, they’ve been…what? Having a pizza party?
I step back into the hallway, intending to search for Holly, when movement catches my eye. A door opens further down the corridor—Grayson’s door—and Holly emerges, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that barely reaches mid-thigh. Her hair is tousled, her lips swollen, and there’s a pink mark on her neck that can only be one thing.
Our eyes meet, and she freezes like a deer in headlights.
“Noah,” she breathes, her scent spiking with surprise and something else—guilt? Defiance? “Hi.”
I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut. The bond flares between us, hot and painful, as my brain processes what I’mseeing. While I’ve been agonizing over how to approach our accidental connection, Holly has already moved on.
Grayson appears in the doorway behind her, shirtless and watchful. His hand comes to rest possessively on Holly’s shoulder, and something primal rises in me at the sight—my inner alpha wanting to see his mere presence as a challenge.
“You okay?” he asks Holly, his eyes never leaving mine.
She nods, but her scent betrays her distress. Through our bond, I feel her confusion, her hurt, and beneath it all, a stubborn determination that I’m beginning to recognize as quintessentially Holly.
“I see you’re otherwise occupied,” I say, the words coming out more distant than I intended. If I let slip even an ounce of what I’m feeling it will turn into a deluge. “Have a good night, guys.”
She made her choice.
“Noah, wait! Are you angry…” she gestures lamely between Grayson and herself. “…about this?”
I might try gently shaking some sense into her if I didn’t think Grayson would attempt to murder me. “I’m not angry, sweetheart. Just thought I’d have a little more time to figure you and me out.”
“But you do have time. You haveallthe time,” she insists, sounding devastatingly confused. “You guys are a pack, right?”
I blink, understanding each word even if I can’t make sense of them together. “What?”
