“Tomorrow.” He swallowed, his eyes searching mine, like he was trying to gauge my reaction. “I didn’t want you to think this had anything to do with... with us. I’m happy this happened. More than happy.”
Something inside me twisted—a mix of relief and disappointment. I nodded, brushing my fingers over the back of his neck.
“Okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “But just so you know, when you come back... we’re picking this up right where we left off.”
A smile tugged at his lips, and he nodded, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my forehead.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“How about you stay the night with me till I leave?”
I wasn’t sure there were any better words I’d ever heard in my whole life.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HOLDEN
I keptmy hands on the wheel, trying to focus on the road. But my mind? My mind was back in my office with Mylo. Goddess, it was good. Too good. The kind of sex that got under your skin and stayed there, making it impossible to think straight.
And there it was again—guilt, sharp and constant. I still hadn’t told him. Not about me, not about what I was. And yet, we’d crossed that line. He deserved more than I was giving him. Hell, maybe more than I knew how to give.
But damn, the sex. I hadn’t even known it could feel like that—like my whole body exhaled for the first time in years. It wasn’t just physical; it was grounding, like my soul had found the thing it was missing all along. The kind of thing I didn’t believe in until it hit me like a freight train.
Because it had been waiting. For him.
Bishop shifted next to me, long legs kicking against the dash like we weren’t in my damn truck. “You’re real quiet.”
I grunted, tightening my grip on the wheel. “Just thinking.”
“About Mylo,” Bishop said, not even pretending to ask.
I shot him a quick glance, but he was already smirking—that knowing, smug little smile that said,You’re an idiot, but I love you anyway.
“You know,” he said, tapping his fingers on the armrest, “for someone who’s got their shit together, you’re a disaster at this.”
“Yeah, well,” I muttered, “it’s complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Bishop leaned back against the window, settling in like we had all the time in the world. “He’s your mate.”
That word—it hit hard, settling deep and so fucking right.
I swallowed. “I haven’t told him. Not... about any of it.”
Bishop stayed quiet, letting the confession hang between us for a second. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, like it was just a fact. “If Cairo had been my mate, I would’ve told him.”
That knocked the air right out of my lungs. Bishop never talked about Cairo. Not like this.
I glanced over, but he kept his gaze on the road ahead. “He wasn’t my mate, though,” Bishop added, like he was explaining something simple. “That’s why I didn’t say anything. But if I thought—if I knew—he was? I’d have told him everything. No hesitation.”
That hit hard, the way truth always does when you’ve been avoiding it.
“You gotta tell him, Holden.” Bishop’s voice softened, but the weight of what he was saying didn’t. “You can’t keep him in the dark. Not if you want him to stay.”
I let out a slow breath, my chest tight with guilt and fear tangling together until I couldn’t tell which was worse. The thought of telling Mylo the truth felt like jumping off a cliff—and the thought of not telling him? That was a free fall I wouldn’t survive.
Bishop didn’t push. He’d said his piece, and that was enough for him.
The GPS pinged, breaking the silence, and I made a right turn down the gravel drive that led to the shifter event. Cars and bikes were lined up along the road, marked with symbolsfrom packs across the region. The air buzzed with energy—old rivalries, new alliances, and everything in between.
