“Emma…”
“I mean it. Go.” The words come out thick and distorted by tears. “Send someone else to guard me if you need to, whatever it takes, just go.”
The wind moves through the trees, scattering pine needles across the frozen ground. The owl calls again, distant and mournful.
Bodhi stares at me.
“Okay,” he says quietly after a beat. “If that’s what you want.”
But it’s not. And I want to scream it. I want him to fight for me. I want him to refuse to leave. I want him to grab me and tell me nothing could keep us apart.
But my throat has closed now, and the words don’t come.
So, he turns away, his shoulders curving inward, and starts walking toward the treeline. Each step he takes pulls the bond tighter, thinner.
At the edge of the trees, he stops.
My breath catches. His head turns slightly, just enough that I can see the edge of his profile and the rigid line of his jaw.
Call him back. Say his name. Tell him you didn’t mean it.
I open my mouth. The words are right there.
But I don’t say them.
Instead, I stand there for a long time after he leaves, shivering, arms wrapped around myself. The tears have stopped, leaving my face tight and raw. Through the bond, I feel him moving away, growing fainter.
When I finally slip back inside the cabin, my feet are numb. Inside, the fire has burned down to embers. I should add more wood. I sink onto the couch instead, pulling one of Natalie’s quilts around my shoulders, and catch a trace of his scent still clinging to my hoodie from when I pressed against him.
A sob escapes. Then another. So, I bury my face in the quilt and let it happen, let the grief and anger and regret all pour out of me until there’s nothing left but exhaustion.
Through our faint connection, I feel him getting further away. I curl onto my side, tracking his retreat until I can barely sense him at all. That’s what cuts deepest. Not that he left. That he made me believe I wouldn’t be alone anymore.
But that was a lie. Because I feel lonelier right now than I ever have before.
33
BODHI
Black River hasn’t changed since I left. The same cracked asphalt leads into town, and the same faded welcome sign listing a population that’s been wrong since my father moved into town and ran off anyone who didn’t want to be part of his crew.
But everything else feels different, especially approaching with the knowledge that he’s not here and won’t be back anytime soon. Hopefully never.
I park the borrowed truck at the edge of clan territory and kill the engine, but don’t move to get out. Through the dusty windshield, I see the sprawling compound has grown, but not much, and what was here looks jaded and run-down now. What used to be a thriving main street is pretty much abandoned. Only the bar, a grocery store, and a few essentials remain open, and even then, only to service the needs of the clan.
It looks neglected and unloved, which, much like the clan itself, it has been for the last twenty-odd years.
Very few outsiders come here. And if they do, they move on quickly. Strangers are not welcome.
My hands grip the steering wheel hard enough to make the plastic creak as my bear assaults me with memories. Dark ones. The kind I spent years burying deep down, trying to forget.
Being taunted by my father, who wanted to make sure I knew he was the boss. His threats against me, my brothers, even our mother, if I didn’t promise to join his crew and help him with his next get rich quick scheme, which became increasingly criminal in nature as the years went on.
With a growl, I rub my eyes and try to force them open. I came to support Mitch, nothing more. I’ll stand behind him if Garrett makes his challenge, and put on a show of unified strength, then disappear again. Simple.
Except Beau’s voice keeps pushing forward.Go to Black River. Deal with who you actually are.
And Emma’s, which sting more than I could have ever imagined for a bear with thick skin who’s used to being shunned.
