Harris recovers first. She brushes back her tousled hair, destroyed bun dangling precariously on one side of her head,chin lifting with a defiance that might be more convincing if her lips weren't pink and swollen.
"This conversation isn't over," she snaps at Beau.
Then she's gone, heels clicking against the packed dirt as she storms toward where the cars are parked. An engine roars to life seconds later, headlights sweeping across the compound as she tears down the road.
Beau won't meet my eyes.
With a frustrated groan, he kicks the siding on the bar, then holds a hand up, warning me not to say one word. Then, with a mumbled apology and congratulations, he shoves past me, and stalks toward his truck. Another engine roars. More headlights disappearing into the darkness, heading in the opposite direction from Harris.
Well. That's going to be interesting.
I head back to the party, to my mate, to the celebration that's still going strong around the fire pit. Emma looks up when I approach, curiosity bright in her eyes.
"Everything okay?"
"Fine." I pull her against my chest, settling my hand over her stomach where our cub is growing. She hums, unconvinced, but lets it go, choosing to soak in the warmth around us instead.
The fire crackles. The fairy lights glitter. Our family laughs and drinks, loud and messy and wonderfully alive. And best of all, Emma Lennox is here in my arms, and I have everything I never thought I would.
"Happy?" she asks, tilting her head back to look at me.
I think about the answer. The years of exile and isolation. The guilt I've carried. The certainty that I didn't deserve anything good.
Then I think about her. About the cub she's carrying. About the life we're building for us and for our clan.
"Yeah," I tell her, meaning it completely. "I really am."
