CHAPTER 36
Xayden
I watchas Ashlyn settles into one of the plush seats, her movements graceful but careful, like she’s trying to take up as little space as possible. It’s something I’ve noticed about her lately, the way she pulls herself inward, like she’s bracing for impact.
I drop down next to her, sprawling out like I own the space, twirling my drumstick between my fingers. Her head turns slightly, and when her gaze flicks to mine, her eyebrows lift in silent question.
Can I help you?
I chuckle under my breath, leaning back and letting my eyes trace the curve of her jaw, the soft line of her mouth. She’s beautiful—she always has been—but now there’s something more to her.
I’ve noticed it before, flashes of it in the way she holds herself, the way she speaks. But sitting beside her now, close enough to see the faint lines of exhaustion mingling with her determination, it hits me like a freight train.
She’s grown into herself. Into a self-sufficient, successful omega who doesn’t need anyone to define her. Doesn’t need a pack. And damn if it doesn’t make her even more irresistible.
The corner of my mouth tilts up into a grin, and she narrows her eyes slightly, like she’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking.
“That stuff you said—” The words come out before I even think them through, my heart pushing them past my lips before my brain can catch up.
Her brows knit together, the confusion clear on her face. “What stuff?”
“The other day,” I say. I swallow, wetting my lips as I lean forward slightly, resting my forearm on the armrest between us. “What you said during the shoot. About being broken. About trying. Did you mean it?”
She blinks, caught off guard, her posture stiffening just a little. For a second, I think she might deflect, throw out some canned response for the sake of avoiding the truth.
But then she sighs, her shoulders relaxing as she meets my gaze head-on. “Yes,” she says simply, her voice steady. “I meant it.”
The honesty in her eyes hits hard, and I can’t look away.
I twirl the drumstick again, my grip tightening slightly. “Good,” I say, my grin easing into something more honest. “Because if you said you hadn’t, I’d have called bullshit.”
That earns me a small smile, the kind that tugs at the corner of her lips but doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I figured you might,” she says, her voice lighter now, but there’s still a hint of vulnerability beneath it.
I lean back, letting my drumstick rest across my knees as I watch her. “You’re not broken, you know,” I say, my tone quieter now. “At least, not in a way that can’t be put back together.”
Her smile falters, her gaze dropping to her hands as she fiddles with the edge of her sleeve. “Maybe,” she says softly. “But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
“Nothing worth it ever is,” I reply without hesitation. “Something I could have learned years ago, if I weren’t so stupid and pushed the one person away who meant everything to me.”
Her eyes flick back to mine, something unreadable swirling in their depths. For a second, I think she’s about to say something, something that might crack the walls she’s been holding up so tightly, but then the plane lurches slightly as the engines start, and the moment slips away.
I twirl the drumstick again, letting the silence stretch between us. But my thoughts? My thoughts are loud, running in relentless circles around one thing: her.
She’s all I’ve been able to think about since she walked back into our lives. Sure, with the exception of West—who I’m pretty sure took an unspoken vow of celibacy the second Ash walked away back then—we’ve all been with other women. For me, a few were out of spite. Some were distractions. And all of them were forgettable.
None of them have ever been able to wash her out of my system.
It’s like she’s imprinted on me, embedded in every part of who I am. And now that she’s back? The alpha in me can’t stop pacing, growling, demanding to claim her in every way possible.
Unfortunately for him, the ways that are possible are none.
Because no matter how close she’s sitting to me right now, no matter how her scent tangles in the air between us, sweet and intoxicating, she’s still out of reach. Out of bounds.
But I’m going to change that.
Now that I know she was serious, that her words weren’t just for the show, the game has shifted. She isn’t running again, andwe’re never going to make her choose. Not between us and her dreams. Not between us and herself.
