"Being around. Keeping up. Trying to make you smile, even when you're determined to be miserable." He stood, brushingash off his jeans. "You can push me away all you want, Lumi. I'm patient."
"Stubbornness isn't the same as patience."
"Good thing I've got both."
He walked toward his tent, leaving me alone by the dying fire.
I stayed until the coals went dark, thinking about wolves who hunted alone and the people who refused to let them.
The hike back the next day was easier.
I kept a reasonable pace. Mr. Boone nodded approvingly. Sandy stopped looking like she wanted to strangle me. And James stayed close — not crowding, not pushing, just present. A steady warmth at the edge of my awareness that I couldn't quite ignore.
He made Leigh laugh with a story about a cow that had escaped his family's ranch back in Montana. He helped Len fix a broken boot strap with paracord and duct tape. He noticed when Charlie was flagging and distracted Mr. Boone with a question so Charlie could catch his breath without embarrassment.
He was kind. Thoughtlessly, consistently kind. The sort of person who helped because it was the right thing to do, not because he wanted anything in return.
I watched him and felt the mate bond pulse in my chest, insistent and undeniable.
Not now,I told it.Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But the bond didn't listen.
And neither, I was starting to realize, did James.
Chapter three
Day four at Frosthaven, and Ivy had officially lost her patience with me.
"You have to unpack the rest of your stuff."
"I unpacked."
"You unpackedclothes. And books. And that one weird knife." She gestured at my side of the room. "Where are your photos? Your posters? Your... I don't know, personality?"
"I have a personality."
"You have a bag under your bed that you refuse to open. That's not a personality, that's a red flag."
She wasn't wrong about the bag. It sat there zipped shut, holding everything I hadn't wanted to deal with yet. A few things from the orphanage. A drawing Alexandra had made me — allegedly a wolf, looked more like a potato with legs. A photo of me, Gregor and Rae from last winter.
Unpacking meant settling in. I wasn't here to settle.
"The bag is fine where it is," I said.
"The bag is a cry for help."
"The bag isunder my bedand therefore none of your business."
Ivy threw a pillow at me.
"You're impossible," she said, but she was smiling. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But when you finally crack and need to talk about whatever tragic backstory is hiding in that bag, I'll be here."
"Noted."
"With snacks."
"Also noted."
