Fern squeezes my hand. “You’re not like him. You’re not like Robbie, either. I know I said some things…”
“You said what you felt. I can’t blame you for that.”
“But I was wrong. Or at least, I wasn’t entirely right. You’ve made mistakes. We both have. But you’re not trying to break me down or make me feel worthless. You’re just bad at expressing yourself.”
“Gee, thanks,” I reply with a chuckle.
“I mean it.” A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “You care too much, and you show it in all the wrong ways. That’s different from not caring at all.”
“Is that your professional opinion?”
“Consider it a free consultation.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, our hands still linked.
“I could stay,” I offer. “The rest of the night, at least. Make sure he doesn’t come back.”
Fern shakes her head. “No. Go help the others track him down.”
“Fern—”
“I mean it.” She pulls her hand free and stands. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re out there looking for him. Knowing you’re the one who finds him.”
“You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
“I’ve been alone for a long time, Connor. One more night won’t kill me.” She tries for a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Besides, if he was going to come back, he would have done it by now. He’s running scared.”
I want to argue. Every instinct screams at me to plant myself on her couch and refuse to move until the threat is neutralized. But I can see the determination in her face, and I know pushing her right now will only drive her further away.
I rise from the couch and cross to where she stands. “Fine, but I’m having someone posted outside until we catch him. Non-negotiable.”
“Okay.”
“And you call me the second anything feels off. Anything at all.”
“I will.”
I gather her face in my hands and press a kiss to her forehead. She leans into the contact, just for a moment, before stepping back.
“Go,” she instructs. “Find him.”
The run back toward the eastern border gives me too much time to think. My wolf is restless, unhappy with the distance growing between us. He doesn’t understand why I left her. Doesn’t understand the complicated dance of human emotions that makes staying away the right choice sometimes.
Fern is human. That’s something I keep forgetting. She didn’t grow up with pack bonds and mate connections and the instinctive understanding that comes with being a shifter. For her, all of this is new and strange and probably terrifying.
She needs time. Time to process what’s happening between us. Time to trust that I’m not another man who’s going to hurt her.
I can give her that. Even if every fiber of my being wants to charge back to her cottage and refuse to leave.
This will take time. I remind myself of that with every stride.
But as I push deeper into the forest to join the hunt, I can’t shake the feeling that I should have stayed anyway.
Chapter 21 - Fern
Three days of nausea, and I’m sick of being sick.
I press my palm against my stomach as another wave rolls through me, waiting for it to pass before I reach for my coffee. The medical center’s break room is quiet this early in the morning, just me and the ancient coffee maker that gurgles like it’s on its last legs. I take a sip and immediately regret it. The smell alone makes my stomach lurch, and I have to set the mug down before I gag.
