It should have made me suspicious. Should have felt like a trap, like they were waiting for me to let my guard down so they could pounce.
Instead, it felt like exactly what Reid had promised. Space. Time. The freedom to choose.
On the third morning, I woke up before dawn and knew. I didn't know how I knew. Didn't know what had shifted in the night, what final piece had clicked into place. But when I opened my eyes in the gray pre-dawn light, the answer was there, sitting in my chest like a stone—solid, certain, terrifying.
Yes.
The word echoed through me, and I waited for the panic to come. Waited for the voice in my head to start screaming about all the ways this could go wrong, all the reasons I should run, all the evidence from my past that proved people couldn't be trusted.
The voice was there. It always was. But for the first time in nine years, it wasn't the loudest thing in my head. Louder than the fear was something else. Something that felt like hope, and want, and the desperate, bone-deep need to stop running. To stop surviving. To try, just once, to actually live.
I got dressed in the dark, my hands shaking, my heart pounding. I went to the stable first—habit, comfort, the need to see Bella and Hope before I did something that would change everything. Hope was awake when I arrived, standing on legs that were steadier now, stronger. She nickered when she saw me and came to the stall door, bumping her nose against my hand.
"Hey, pretty girl." My voice came out rough, thick with emotion, and I had to stop and swallow hard before I could continue. I stroked her fuzzy muzzle, felt the warmth of her breath against my palm. "I'm going to do something scary today. Something really, really scary."
Hope blinked at me, her big eyes curious.
"I'm going to say yes." The words came out barely above a whisper, trembling and uncertain. I pressed my forehead against hers, breathing in her warm, animal scent. "I'm going to let them in. I'm going to try."
Hope made a soft sound—not quite a whinny, more like a sigh—and something in my chest loosened.
"Yeah." I laughed, the sound wet and shaky. "I'm scared too." I stayed with her for a few more minutes, gathering my courage. Then I straightened my shoulders, took a deep breath, and went to find Reid.
He was on the porch of the main house, a mug of coffee in his hands, watching the sun come up over the eastern hills. The light caught the silver at his temples, painted his weathered face in shades of gold and amber. He looked peaceful. Settled. Like a man who had made his peace with waiting. He saw me coming and went still, his dark eyes tracking my approach. He didn't move, didn't speak, just watched me walk toward him with an expression that was carefully, deliberately blank.
I stopped at the bottom of the porch steps, my hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans, my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.
"Hi." My voice came out rough, uncertain, catching on the single syllable. I had to clear my throat before I could continue, my eyes dropping to my boots and then forcing themselves back up to meet his. "Can we—can we talk?"
Reid set his coffee mug down on the porch railing, his movements slow and deliberate. He descended the steps until he was standing in front of me, close enough that I could smell him—whiskey and woodsmoke, warm and familiar.
"Of course." His voice was low, steady, giving nothing away. His dark eyes searched my face, cataloging every flicker of emotion, but he didn't push. Didn't ask. Just waited, patient as always, his hands loose at his sides.
I took a breath. Then another. My hands were shaking in my pockets, and I pulled them out, let them hang at my sides where he could see them trembling.
"I've been thinking." The words came out unsteady, wavering, but I forced myself to keep going. My pale green eyes met his dark ones, holding his gaze even though every instinct screamed at me to look away. "About what you said. About the—the pack. The courtship."
Reid nodded, a single dip of his chin, his expression still carefully neutral. But I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw had tightened almost imperceptibly. He was bracing himself, I realized. Preparing for rejection.
The thought made something in my chest ache.
"I don't know how to do this." My voice cracked, broke on the words, and I had to stop, had to swallow past the lump in my throat. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. "I don't know how to trust people. I don't know how to let anyone in. I've spent nine years building walls and running away and convincing myself that I was better off alone." I paused, my breath catching. "And part of me still thinks that's true. Part of me is screaming at me to run right now, to get out before I can get hurt again."
Reid's expression flickered—something pained crossing his features before he smoothed it away. He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up my hand, stopping him.
"But there's another part of me." My voice was stronger now, steadier, something fierce building underneath the fear. I took a step closer, my chin lifting, my eyes holding his. "A part that's tired of running. Tired of being alone. Tired of surviving instead of living." I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. "A part that looks at you—at all of you—and wants something I never let myself want before."
Reid went very still, his dark eyes locked on mine, barely breathing.
"So my answer is yes." The words came out rough, trembling, but clear. I held his gaze, refusing to look away, my whole body shaking with the weight of what I was saying. "I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I'll mess it up. I don't know if I'm too broken to be what you need." I paused, took a breath, felt the tears building behind my eyes. "But I want to try. If you'll still have me. I want to try."
For a moment, Reid didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there, frozen, his dark eyes wide with something that looked like disbelief.
Then his face transformed. The careful neutrality cracked, fell away, and underneath it was something raw and beautiful and overwhelming. Joy. Relief. A hope so fierce it stole my breath.
"Aster." Her name came out of him like a prayer, rough and broken and full of emotion he wasn't even trying to hide anymore. His dark eyes glistened with moisture, his throat working as he swallowed. His hands came up, hovering in the air between them, wanting to touch but holding back. "Are you sure? You don't have to—if you're not ready?—"
"I'm not ready." I cut him off, my voice cracking on a laugh that was half sob. Tears were streaming down my face now, but I didn't wipe them away. "I'm not ready at all. I'm terrified. But I'm saying yes anyway." I took another step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. "Because you gave me a choice. Because you waited. Because you—" My voice broke completely, and I had to stop, had to breathe through the tightness in my chest. "Because no one has ever wanted me like that before. I want to find out what it feels like to be wanted."
