Both of them marked by me.
For a long beat, it’s just us. Her eyes are wild and wet, my hand still steady on her. The tension in the room hums sharp. Beck is coiled like a spring in the chair. Hayes still paces trenches into the carpet.
Then Hayes stops. Straightens. I see the shift hit him, soft and sure. “She needs to calm down. Let me run a bath.”
Lo blinks, startled. Hayes doesn’t wait for permission. Just strides toward the hall. He knows her. Knows what calms her.
Beck stands next, jaw locked. “Tea. Chamomile. I’ll be right back.”
He doesn’t ask either, just heads for the kitchen on a mission.
And suddenly, it’s just me and Lo.
She looks small on the couch, knees pulled tight. The girl who used to sit on the bleachers after practice with her sketchbook, pretending the world couldn’t touch her. Except now, the world has. Hard.
I shift closer, kneel between her legs so I can look up at her. “Lo.”
Her eyes meet mine, glassy and defensive. “What?”
“Come here.”
She hesitates. I don’t push. Just open my arms and wait.
It takes a breath. Then another. Then she cracks. A sob bursts out of her. She folds forward, straight into me.
I wrap her up tight, arms locked around her waist, her cheek pressed against my chest. She’s trembling, every breath a shudder, but she doesn’t pull away. Not this time.
“I got you,” I murmur, rocking her slowly from side to side. “I’ve always got you.”
Her fingers clutch my shirt. The sound she makes, half sob, half laugh, kills me. “You’re so damn quiet, Ford. Why do you always know what to say?”
“Because I’ve been listening,” I tell her. “Since the day I found out you were mine, I’ve been listening.”
Her whole body goes still.
The words freeze her mid-breath.
Slowly, she leans back just enough to see my face, eyes wide and red-rimmed. “What did you just say?”
My throat works, but I don’t look away. Can’t. Not after holding it in for so damn long.
“You’ve been mine since high school, Lo.” The truth scrapes out of me, rough but solid. “I scent-bonded to you years ago, when I realized you were my scent match.”
Her lips part. No sound. Just shock.
I drag a hand through my hair, breath ragged. Will this ruin everything we’ve just done? Will this break our pack before we have a chance to get it off the ground?
I can’t let it matter.
She deserves the truth.
“Before you ask, I never said anything because—” My jaw clenches. I force the words out anyway. “Because you were with Beck. Or almost with him. And I didn’t want to come between that, if that’s what you wanted. I figured a scent match didn’t matter. He had your attention. You laughed at his jokes. Let him walk you home. Looked at him like he was the only boy in the room.” I shake my head, bitter and soft all at once. “I couldn’t ruin that. Didn’t want you to feel trapped, like you had to choose between happiness and instinct. So I kept it quiet.”
She stares at me with a look I’ve never seen on her face. It kills me. “Ford. You… you’ve known all this time?”
“Yeah.” My chest aches with it. “Every day. Every second of every day of every week of every year you were gone, that bond never let go. It never does. That’s how scent matches work.”
Her breath shudders out, sharp and thin. She looks away, out toward the kitchen where Beck’s voice rumbles low, where Hayes’s footsteps echo down the hall. Then back to me, caught between past and present.
