People filed out one by one. Sam left first, practically running, giving Caelan a buffer zone that could accommodate a small aircraft. Margo hugged me goodbye, whispered “be kind to the poor man” in my ear. Jade and Thessa left together, Thessa shooting her brother a concerned look that made my guilt spike even higher.
Even Sloane left without insisting on driving me home.
That was significant. Sloane had been hovering protectively since the Damien situation, always making sure I got home safe, always watching for threats. The fact that she was willing to leave me alone with Caelan meant she trusted him now.
Which was only one more point in Caelan’s favor.
One more reason I was an asshole for what I’d said.
I was wiping down tables when I realized we were alone. Caelan was in the kitchen, the sound of running water suggesting he was doing the dishes again because of course he was. Even hurt, even rejected, he was still here. Still helping, still taking care of things without being asked.
The man I’d just called “not my type” was washing my dishes. I was the worst person alive.
So I stood in the doorway, watching him. His shirt was wet where he’d leaned against the counter. His shoulders were tense, so tense they looked painful. His movements were mechanical, efficient, like he was trying to keep his hands busy so he wouldn’t have to think.
I could also feel what was underneath his tension. Hurt, still. Uncertainty. A self-doubt that surprised me. This confident, intense man who’d threatened to remove someone’s eyes over a chair was doubting whether I wanted him around. Doubting whether he’d read everything wrong. Shit. I’d messed it up so bad, even before we even started.
He turned off the water and cleared his throat, but didn’t turn around.
“Are you okay?” His voice was careful, distant, like he was handling a bomb that might explode at any moment. “You were quiet tonight.”
I stared at his back. I could tell him, explain what was happening, ask if he felt it too, demand answers to questions I didn’t even know how to ask.
I kept the secret instead.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
“I’m just tired.”
He finally turned. His gray eyes were guarded in a way I’d never seen before. Walls up, defenses raised. Protecting himself from me. I hated it so damn much.
“I should probably go,” he said.
The words hurt me, and they hurt him. I could feel both, overlapping, bleeding together until I couldn’t tell whose pain was whose.
I was so tired. Tired of fighting this, of pretending I didn’t feel what I felt. Tired of the walls and the fear and the constant push-pull between us.
There was more going on here. A force bigger than casual attraction, bigger than friendship, bigger than anything I’d experienced before. A connection that let me feel his emotions like they were my own. A bond that tied us together. I didn’t know what it meant, but I made a decision right then and there.
I was fucking done.
14
— • —
Caelan
I was barely holding myself together.
My wolf was pacing, snarling, demanding blood. It had been this way for days. Ever since Damien. And now Sam and the words Riley said that still echoed in my skull…
We’re nothing. He’s not my type. Platonic friend.
First there had been Damien last week, showing up at Riley’s apartment, trying to break in, scaring her. I’d felt her terror through the bond and sprinted to her building so fast I’d nearly shifted mid-stride. The wolf had clawed at my skin, desperate to emerge, desperate to protect.
I’d dragged him into the alley, slammed him against the brick wall hard enough to crack the mortar, and made my position very clear.
