Showing up late to the bourbon event wasn’t part of the plan. Okay, so it had mostly been part of the plan. But notthatlate. I could tell, when I appeared, that Mylo hadn’t expected to see me, and I’d caught the flicker of hurt in his eyes. I’d planned to apologize that day at his cabin, but when I missed him, I convinced myself the goddess was trying to keep us apart. So, I’d stayed away—even though every inch of me hated it.
And, of course, my family made sure to let me know how they felt.
So, I’d avoided all of them. Hell, I was avoiding everyone. Most of all, I was avoiding Mylo.
Three days. It had been three damn days since I last saw him, and I was losing it. West kept giving me shit whenever we crossed paths—smug bastard. Indigo didn’t hold back either; she’d skipped teasing and gone straight to calling me a coward, as if I needed the reminder. Even Hope threw in her two cents, which was surprising since she usually stayed out of my emotional damage. And Noah? He gave me that look—you know the one. Like,I get it, but you’re still being an idiot.
Now, it was four days later, and I still hadn’t worked up the nerve.
I tapped anxiously against the desk, the rhythm matching the restless energy buzzing through me. I’d spent years mastering discipline, locking things down tight, and yet Mylo waltzed into my life, and everything unraveled with one smile. It didn’t make sense.
I could practically hear West’s voice:Duh, he’s your mate... what did you expect?
For one, I never expected him to be human... although, after meeting Mylo, I wouldn’t change one perfect hair on that beautiful blonde head. It felt like a test—like maybe I was meant to figure out how to do it right this time. But what if I failed again? I couldn’t take that risk.
But I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay away.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbed my hands over my face, and exhaled hard. The office felt too quiet. Too still. And my thoughts—well, those seemed to be getting louder.
A knock at the door startled me, mostly because I’d been such a bear to be around that my family, staff, and den had all been avoiding me. And when they weren’t, I was catching shit for not appreciating the fact that I’d found my mate. Everyone kept reminding me how lucky I was.
Ifuckingknew how lucky I was... How could anyone think I wanted to stay away from him, or that it was easy for me to do it?I wanted him in my home, in my bed. I wanted to tell him that he was wanted, that he was welcome, and that I never wanted to imagine life without him.
So yeah, I wasn’t ready to deal with anyone’s shit right now. I ignored the knocking, hoping they’d take the hint and go away.
No such luck.
It came again, and I had a feeling the person wasn’t going anywhere.
With a sigh, I dragged myself out of the chair and crossed the room.
When I opened the door, there he was, like I’d conjured him just by thinking about him—Mylo. And he had a plate of cookies. The scent hit me first—warm vanilla and chocolate, sweet and comforting, just like everything about him.
Our eyes met for the briefest second before he looked away, clutching the plate a little tighter, like it was the only thing holding him together. He looked like he was five seconds away from bolting.
“Hey.” He bit his bottom lip, his eyes flickering up to meet mine before darting away just as fast.
There it was again—that damn flutter in my chest, the one I hated for how out of control it made me feel. But I also kind of loved it, because it reminded me he was here, and it was real.
“I, uh...” Mylo shifted his weight awkwardly, holding the plate out in front of him. “I brought these... Thought I’d come by and... you know, apologize. For... everything.”
I could tell he’d practiced those words many times before finally working up the nerve to come over here. And why did that make me feel so damn small?
He looked so vulnerable.Toovulnerable.
Something in me cracked at the sight of it. He had no idea how close I was to dragging him inside and doing something we’d both regret—or not regret at all.
“Come in,” I said, stepping aside.
I decided to listen to the side of me that was saying everything would be fine... not the panicked one. I figured the panic had gotten its way for too long, and neither Mylo nor I seemed happier because of it.
He hesitated for half a second, then shuffled past me, being careful not to brush against any part of me. I shut the door behind him, the click of the latch somehow sounding louder in the now silent office.
Mylo placed the plate of cookies on the edge of my desk, still not looking at me. “I’ve been meaning to say I’m sorry... for putting you in an awkward position. It’s my problem. My feelings. You don’t need to worry—I won’t make an ass of myself. And you shouldn’t feel pressured or anything.”
I didn’t respond right away, because honestly, I didn’t trust my voice. The way he stood there—shoulders hunched, head down, voice small—it knocked the air right out of my lungs. How didn’t he see what he was doing to me?
For a moment, there was silence—an awkward, tension-filled kind of silence. He wouldn’t look at me, his gaze fixed on his lap. “I just wanted to make sure you knew I was sorry about... what I said. About wanting... you know.”
