My breath catches. The anger is still there, low and simmering. But underneath it…something else. Something that aches.
“You don’t get to decide that now.”
“I’m not deciding anything for you,” he says. “I’m just telling you—I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to let me back in. But I’ll be here, proving I’m worth the space if you ever do.”
He starts to turn away again, slower this time, deliberate. Giving me the opportunity to call him back.
I don’t.
Not today.
But the echo of his words follows me all the way back inside.
And it doesn’t feel like the end. The wall I built around my heart cracks just a bit.
CHAPTER 59
Hunter
I pace the living room,the soft creak of the hardwood beneath my boots the only sound besides the click of the stove as it keeps the baked potatoes and pan chicken warm. Graham left it in there—still baking on low, ready for dinner.
Willow’s in her room.
Quiet.
Which is somehow worse than if she were yelling.
Carson leans on the couch arm, spinning a coaster between his fingers. He hasn’t said a word in ten minutes. That alone tells me how much this is messing with him.
Graham stands near the window, arms folded, eyes on the skyline, pretending he’s not waiting for me to speak.
“She followed him outside,” I say finally. My voice is low, but it might as well be a thunderclap in the silence. “Landon.”
Graham’s head turns. Carson’s coaster stops mid-spin.
“She chased after him?” Carson repeats, brows lifting. “Like…what? Rom-com final scene energy?”
“More like unfinished business,” I mutter. “There wasanger, yeah—but there was something else too. It didn’t feel over. Not to her. And not to him.”
Carson exhales, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Great. Love that for us.”
“She’s allowed to want closure,” Graham says.
“I get that,” I say, nodding. “But I think she’s still figuring out if she wants more than that.”
Carson lets out a low whistle. “Well, fuck. We survived stalkers, heat crashes, a fire escape, possibly welcoming said stalker into our pack—and now we’re adding her ex-wildcard to the pile?”
“Ex-scent match,” I correct him automatically.
Graham stiffens. “Ex-what?”
Carson frowns, glancing between us. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I realize too late that I never told them. My stomach twists, but I force the words out. “She told me. Yesterday. Landon…he wasn’t just some guy she fell for. He was her scent match.”
Graham’s arms drop to his sides, fists clenched tight. Carson’s eyes go wide, then narrow.
The silence is thick, heavy, until Carson mutters, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
