Lakelyn steps closer, her presence warm, like she’s slowly peeling away the layers I’ve wrapped myself in. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” she murmurs, and her words sink deep, steadying. “But you can’t keep running. From me. From Mason. From Dean. Nothing has really changed. Being soulmates doesn’t change how I feel about you. I’m sure it doesn’t change how you feel about me. Just like being scent-bound won’t change any of our plans.”
Our plans. Dean. The second his name leaves her lips, something snaps inside me, a rush of fear flooding my veins. I can’t. I can’t handle that, can’t face him.
“Dean doesn’t—” I stammer, backing away, shaking my head like that’ll somehow make all of this go away. He rejected me years ago, at least to my twisted-up memories, there is no way he is back to claim me now. Playing with him, pretending that I could really have him in my pack, was one thing. I was in control. Now I’m not. “I can’t do this.”
Her eyes search mine, and I know she sees it all. Every last fear, every shred of hope I’ve buried beneath years of doubt. The need to belong somewhere, the terror of letting myself get close enough to lose everything. And if she couldn’t see it all, she coulddefinitely smell it on me. Shit, my perfume is out of control and bitter with fear, even to my own nose.
“You don’t have to be perfect,” she whispers, her hand lifting, hovering inches from my arm. She doesn’t touch me, but it’s enough to feel her warmth reaching for me. “You just have to be honest. With yourself. With us.”
For a split second, I want to reach back. I want to believe her—believe that maybe, just maybe, I can stop running. That maybe I don’t have to keep pretending. That maybe this is the future for me.
But it’s too much. It’s too raw, too real.
Before I can think, my body takes over. The panic rises like a wave, crashing through me, and I turn. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, my voice hoarse as I bolt, my feet hitting the pavement hard. I can hear her calling after me, but I don’t stop. I don’t look back.
I never do.
My lungs burn as I push forward, the streets blurring around me as I run. I don’t know where I’m going; I just need to get away. I need space. I need air. But no matter how fast I run, I can’t outrun the crushing weight inside me.
I barely register when I stumble over the tracks and through a different park, collapsing onto a bench, my head in my hands as my heart hammers against my ribcage. What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I just let myself feel this—let myself want something without screwing it up?
“Chad.”
I don’t lift my head at the sound of Lakelyn’s voice. I don’t need to. She’s already here. Of course she is. She won’t let me run. She told me once already that she would follow me if I tried.
She kneels in front of me, her hand gentle on my knee, and I feel the tension in me coil even tighter.
“You’re not running from me this time,” she says softly, her voice steady but gentle, like she’s trying to hold all of my brokenpieces together. “We’re in this together. If you don’t want the pack, we don’t accept the pack. But you and me?” Her thumb brushes lightly over my knee, and for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, I don’t flinch. “We’re already forever.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, biting down hard on the wave of emotions threatening to swallow me whole. I want to believe her, want to cling to her words like a lifeline, but there’s too much—too many years of pretending, too many lies I’ve told myself just to survive. She has no idea how wrecked I am inside. How twisted I am.
“Lakelyn…” I choke out her name, but it feels like my throat is closing. I pull my hands through my hair, fingers digging into my scalp. “You don’t get it. I don’t even know how to be this for you. For anyone. I’m not—” My breath comes out in a harsh, ragged exhale, and I feel myself spiraling. “I’m not what you think I am. I’m not strong enough to keep it together. It’s all pretend.”
Her hand tightens just slightly, and her eyes meet mine, soft and steady, pulling me out of the panic just enough to breathe. “I know you think you’ll break me,” she whispers, “but I’m not as fragile as you think. And neither are you, Chad. You’re strong, you’ve proven that, but you don’t have to be anymore. I’m here. Let me be strong for you.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a second, I can’t breathe. I feel her—feel everything she’s feeling. The concern, the fear, but more than that—the fierce, unshakable belief she has in me. In us.
“I’m scared,” I admit, my voice cracking as I let out the truth that’s been suffocating me. “I’m terrified of messing this up. Messing you up. Messing everything up. And now, with Dean, he’s saying what I’ve wanted to hear—it’s too much.”
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Her eyes stay locked on mine, and there’s something solid in her gaze that keeps me from falling apart completely.
“You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” she says, her voice quiet. “You don’t have to know what to do with Dean or the pack. But you don’t get to push me away. Not anymore. Not after everything we’ve been through. I’m here, whether you like it or not. We’ll figure it out together.”
I can’t speak, my throat too tight, but I nod, just barely, my body trembling as I try to keep it together.
Lakelyn reaches up, her hand cupping the side of my face, her thumb brushing over my cheek, and the warmth of her touch makes something inside me crack wide open. How many times do we need to have this conversation or a version of it, before my broken pieces aren’t broken anymore?
“Stop running,” she whispers, and her words sink deep, pulling me back from the edge. “You’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to do this on your own.”
I let out a shaky breath, and it feels like I’m finally breathing for the first time.
“I don’t know how to stop,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. It’s the rawest truth I’ve ever said out loud. “I’ve been running my whole life. I don’t know how to stop.”
“You don’t have to know,” she says, her voice soft but sure. “Just trust me. Trust us.”
I want to. God, I want to so badly. But the fear is still there, gnawing at me, reminding me of all the times I’ve messed everything up before.
“What if I hurt you?” I ask, my voice breaking. “What if I ruin everything?”
