“Jinx?” she asks, startled.
But I’m already moving. My skates still on, I push toward the exit.
Hunter intercepts me before I reach the doors, stepping in front of me, his hand out. “Willow,” he says, low, careful. “Let him go.”
“No,” I bite out. “Not this time.”
His jaw tightens, but he must see something in my eyes—something stubborn and unshakable—and he nods once, stepping aside.
The warm air wraps around me the second I push through the rink doors, thick and heavy like the breath I’ve been holding finally exhaled.
Landon’s halfway to his car, duffel slung over one shoulder, when I call out, “So that’s it?”
He slows, then turns. “What?”
I storm toward him, skates catching on pebbles, heat prickling at my skin, and it has nothing to do with the weather. “You drop that bomb on my team, say all that shit as if it’s some kind of closure for you, and then just walk away?”
Hunter’s voice echoes behind me, low and warning. “Willow?—”
I throw a hand up without looking back. “Don’t.”
Landon exhales through his nose, jaw going tight. “What else was I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know,” I snap. “Maybe something that doesn’t leave me standing there like a fucking open wound in front of my whole fucking team. God, you’re such a selfish asshole.”
His eyes flash. “You think this was easy for me?”
“Spare me,” I bite. “You’re the one who kissed someone else. You’re the one who let me walk away. And now you’re the one who’s decided you need closure, so you blow up my whole fucking world. For what?”
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“You weren’t.”
His chest rises and falls. It’s obvious he’s barely keeping himself from breaking something.
“Jesus, what do you want from me, Willow? You knew I wasn’t ready, and you pushed anyway. I screwed up, yeah—but so did you.”
His words gut me wide open. Clean. Brutal. Honest.
I freeze. Because he’s not wrong. And he sees it. The way I flinch. The sudden stillness in my body.
His face changes instantly, regret tightening his expression. “Shit. I didn’t mean?—”
“No,” I say. “You’re right.”
The silence that falls after is heavier than any scream.
He steps forward, slower this time. Gentler. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just...didn’t know how to be who you needed.”
My throat burns. “And I didn’t know how to wait.”
We just stand there for a beat, that single truth stretching between us like a fragile bridge.
“I know it doesn’t fix anything,” he says. “But I’m notdone, Willow. I’m not walking away. Not how you think I am.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“I’m not done fighting for you.” His voice softens. “I know you’ve got alphas who look at you like you’re their whole world. But I look at you like you hung the stars. I always have. I just didn’t know how to show it. I’ll do better. I’ll be better.”
