When I wake, Connor is watching me, propped up on one elbow with something soft and hopeful in his eyes. The sight of it makes my stomach twist into knots.
“Good morning,” he says.
“This was a mistake.”
The words are out before I can stop them. Connor goes very still.
“What?”
“Last night. It shouldn’t have happened.” I sit up and pull the sheet against my chest like armor. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was scared, and you were there, and I just… I made a mistake.”
“A mistake.” His voice is flat and cold in a way I’ve never heard before.
“You’re a werewolf, Connor. We’re not—this isn’t—” I fumble for words that don’t exist. “This can’t work. We’re too different.”
He’s out of bed and pulling on his clothes before I finish speaking. His movements are stiff with anger as he yanks his shirt over his head and turns to face me.
“You know what’s funny? When your very human ex-boyfriend showed up last night, it wasn’t a human you calledfor help. It was a werewolf. It was me.” He shoves his feet into his boots without bothering to tie them. “But sure, Fern. Tell yourself this can’t work because we’re too different.”
“Connor—”
“Save it.”
He walks out of the bedroom without looking back. A moment later, the front door slams hard enough to rattle the windows.
I sit alone in the wreckage of my bed and feel guilt flood through me, heavy and suffocating. He didn’t deserve that. Whatever walls I’m trying to build between us, he didn’t deserve to be hurt that way.
But I don’t know how to let him down.
Chapter 18 - Connor
The eastern border is quiet, and I hate every second of it.
Quiet means my mind has nothing to focus on except the look on Fern’s face this morning. The way she pulled the sheet up to her chest like she needed protection from me. The way she called what happened between us a mistake.
A mistake.
I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but that one cuts deeper than I expected.
Dylan falls into step beside me as I round the curve of the patrol trail. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious.” He ducks under a low-hanging branch and keeps pace with my longer stride. “Did you sleep at all last night?”
“Some.”
He shakes his head and lets out a low whistle. “Liar. This is about her, isn’t it? The human.”
“Her name is Fern.”
“I know her name. The whole town knows her name. They also know you’ve been following her around like a lovesick puppy for the past week.” He holds up his hands when I shoot him a glare. “I’m not judging. I’m just saying, whatever’s going on between you two, it’s got you twisted up in knots.”
I don’t answer. There’s nothing to say that won’t make me sound pathetic.
We walk in silence for a while, following the familiar path that marks the boundary of pack territory. The forest is thickhere, with the trees pressing close on either side. I check the underbrush out of habit, looking for anything out of place.
“So what happened?” Dylan asks after a few minutes. “You two seemed like you were making progress after you came to her rescue. I saw her face when you were leaving the bar last night. She looked at you like you hung the moon.”
