I’ve had this conversation a thousand times with Piper, with my parents, with anyone that tries to say anything else.
Here is the truth: if I had asked my ex-pack to stay at my apartment that night, they would still be alive.
I’ve accepted it.
Travis hisses out a breath and rubs his forehead. “Fuck, Blair. You are so goddamn stubborn,” he mutters. “The most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”
I shrug. Even so, that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.
It doesn’t change what happened.
“Let’s say it’s true,” Travis adds. “Even if it is, I don’t care.”
My stomach sours. “What?”
“Not in that way.” He holds a hand up quickly. “I care that it happened. It’s horrible, and I’m sorry. But even if you were responsible, for whatever reason you think in your head, it doesn’t matter to me.”
I chuckle bitterly and shake my head. “Travis. Are you not hearing what I said? I was thereason.”
“You could be the reason the world burns, and I’d still be grateful to be in the same room as you.”
Ash has crawled into my lap, making himself at home on my thighs. He nuzzles me so hard that drool forms at his mouth, and I sigh as he stains the sweatpants that Ryland loaned me.
“You’re putting me on a pedestal,” I accuse him, “and I don’t want to be on one.”
He stares at me, his gaze soft, his dark eyes tender. “Too bad. I don’t try to do it. It just happens, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
The endearment makes my chest tighten.
I’ve heard Piper’s packmates call her that and secretly wondered how the term would sound from Travis’s gravelly voice.
It’s better than I imagined.
But of course, he feels that way.
He’s my scent match. He’s practically obligated to defend me.
My inner Omega is thrilled, though.
She’s finally being offered the care she’s so desperately wanted for years.
It would be easy to collapse in his arms right now, to move Ash off me and bury my face in Travis’s chest like I did in the rain.
But shame and fear keep me rooted in my spot on the mattress.
“I’m pretty sure Ryland and Rowan heard everything,” Travis admits. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be. They were going to find out eventually.”
As if on cue, Ryland cracks open the door, his eyes apologetic. His rain and moss scent mixes with Travis’s wood and smoke, comforting me.
“Hey,” he says softly. “I just wanted to check on you. Someone in this house gets bossy and tries to tell me and my brother what to do. But he forgets that we’re grown-ass adults.” He shoots daggers at Travis, who rolls his eyes.
“How much did you hear?” I ask.
He swallows. “Enough. And my sentiment is the same as Travis’s.”
