The forest whispered agreement outside my window, and for once, I didn't question the voice of the trees.
21
MOONLIGHT AND FORGIVENESS
EVAN
The pack house felt different when I padded through the front door at nearly midnight, muscles aching from three hours of running territorial boundaries and checking scent markers that marked our land as ours. The air inside carried the usual mix of pine and smoke and pack, but underneath it was something that made my wolf prick up his ears with interest.
Human. Male. That particular combination of darkroom chemicals and nervous energy that I'd been trying not to think about for the past day and a half.
Nate's scent, fresh and close enough to mean he was still here.
Dad stood in the hallway like he'd been waiting for me, arms folded across his chest and steel-gray eyes catching the lantern light in ways that made him look older and more tired than usual. His expression was carefully neutral, but I could read the tension in his shoulders, the way he held himself like he was braced for whatever conversation was about to unfold.
“Your boy's here,” he said without preamble, voice carrying that particular blend of information and warning that meant I was about to walk into a situation that required careful handling.
My heart stuttered against my ribs, hope and panic warring for dominance in my chest. Because Nate being here could mean anything from forgiveness to a final confrontation designed to burn whatever bridges we'd managed to build over the past week.
“Where?” I asked, though I could already smell the answer threading through the house like a trail of breadcrumbs leading to my bedroom.
“Sleeping in your old room. Said he wasn't leaving until he saw you.” Dad's tone was neutral, but there was something in his eyes that I couldn't quite read. Pride, maybe. Or caution. Possibly both.
Nate had been the only person I'd ever let into my space like that, the only one who'd made my room feel like sanctuary instead of just another place where I performed the role of dutiful son.
“Did he say why?” I asked, though part of me was afraid of the answer.
“Said he needed to apologize. That he'd fucked up and needed to make it right.” Dad's mouth twitched in what might have been amusement. “Kid's got spine, I'll give him that. Takes balls to show up at a werewolf pack house and demand to see the heir after the kind of scene he made.”
The casual way he said it made me realize that Dad wasn't angry about Nate's presence. Wasn't treating him like a threat or an unwelcome complication. If anything, he seemed almost... approving.
Which was weird as hell, but I'd take it.
I climbed the stairs with heavy steps, my wolf prowling restlessly beneath my skin as the scent of pine and exhaustionmixed with the nervous energy that always surrounded Nate when he was trying to work up courage for something difficult. By the time I reached my bedroom door, my heart was hammering against my ribs hard enough that I was surprised the sound didn't wake half the pack.
The door was cracked open, spilling lamplight into the hallway like an invitation. I pushed it the rest of the way and found him exactly where Dad had said he'd be, curled up on my bed like he belonged there, jacket tossed aside and camera bag sitting at his feet like faithful pets.
He looked younger in sleep, face relaxed in ways it never was when he was awake and performing whatever version of himself he thought the world needed to see. His hair was mussed from running his fingers through it, and there were lines of exhaustion around his eyes that spoke of too little sleep and too much emotional turmoil.
The sight of him in my space made something sharp and complicated twist in my chest, because this was exactly what I'd wanted for six years and exactly what I'd been too afraid to ask for. Nate in my bed, looking like he planned to stay, like he'd finally decided I was worth the risk of getting hurt.
Even if I wasn't sure I deserved that kind of faith.
He stirred as I closed the door behind me, eyelashes fluttering as consciousness dragged him back from whatever dreams had been keeping him company. When he saw me standing there, he sat up quickly, guilt flashing across his face in ways that made my chest ache.
“I'm sorry,” he said immediately, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting on the edge like he was ready to bolt if I told him to leave.
“Nate.” His name stopped the flood of words, and he looked up at me with eyes that held too much hurt for someone who was supposed to be the wronged party in this situation.
I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms, studying the way he held himself like he was braced for rejection. The smart thing would have been to maintain distance, to protect both of us from whatever complications came with letting him back into my life. But I was tired of being smart, tired of choosing safety over the possibility of something real.
“You came back,” I said, and the simple observation carried more weight than it should have.
“Yeah, well.” Nate's smile was crooked, self-deprecating. “Apparently I'm a glutton for punishment. Your dad probably thinks I'm insane.”
“My dad respects people who don't back down when things get difficult,” I said, pushing off from the doorframe and moving into the room. “And you're not insane. Stubborn as hell, maybe, but not insane.”
“I shouldn't have snapped,” Nate said suddenly, voice low and rough with emotion I could smell in the air between us. “At you. At everyone who was just trying to keep their family safe.”
