His hands curl into fists on the table, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then I’ll prove it.”
I scoff—low and bitter. “Now?” My voice trembles, disbelief woven through every syllable. “Now you want to prove it? After—” I can’t even finish my sentence; pain makes my throat thick and clogged. I don’t think I can do this. The guys were right.
He lifts his head, eyes meeting mine. Tired, bloodshot, holding the proof that he hasn’t slept since I left—and that something inside him shattered too. “I never stopped loving you, Willow.”
“Then where the hell were you?” I whisper. My chest cracks open, everything spilling out. “Where were you when I was in heat and the mark you left on me was fading so fast I thought it would take me with it? When I couldn’t breathe? When I couldn’t move from the pain?”
“I—” he starts, then swallows hard. “I didn’t know it would hit you like that.”
“You didn’t ask.” The words are poison on my tongue. “You didn’t even try to contact me before.”
His eyes close, his face looking pained and as if he’s trying to block it all out, but it’s too late. He’s here now. He sees what’s left.
“I thought giving you space was the right thing.”
“No,” I cut in. “You thought not dealing with it was the easier thing.”
He looks wrecked—completely undone—and it still isn’t enough. It can’t be. Not after what I went through.
“I saw you kiss her,” I continue. “You let me see it. And the worst part? I waited for you. Even after that. Some pathetic part of me still believed you’d come after me.”
“I should have.” His voice breaks. “I should’ve gotten on a plane the second you left. I should’ve?—”
“But you didn’t,” I force out through a throat full of splinters. “And I laid there, clutching a pillow that didn’t smell of you, wondering how the hell I ever thought a love that fleeting could be real. How a single whirlwind week could ever last forever.”
He reaches out, hand hovering, wanting to take mine. I pull back.
“I know I hurt you,” he says. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just—I need you to know I’m not here for closure. I’m here because I still feel it. All of it. Every damn second without you has been hell.”
I look at him, and it would be easier if I didn’t still feel it too. If his voice didn’t still sound like home. If my body didn’t remember what it was to be his. But that’s the cruel part about love. It doesn’t leave when it should. It holds on long after a relationship is beyond repair. Long after you stop believing in fairytales and happy endings.
I blink back tears. “You should’ve fought for me.”
“I’m here now.”
I nod once, almost to myself. “Too late.”
His gaze hardens with resolve. “I don’t care if you never take me back, Willow. I don’t care if you never forgive me. But you’re wrong about one thing.” He leans forward, determination shining in his eyes. “You will see that I love you.”
I push back from the table so fast the chair legs screech. I can’t breathe. I need out. Through the window, I meet Hunter’s gaze. One look is all it takes. Before I even reach the door, he’s moving.
The moment I step outside, Hunter opens his arms for me.No words. No questions. Just pure, unshakable understanding. I bury my face against his chest, his scent wrapping around and comforting me. Because I might be running, but I don’t want to be alone.
CHAPTER 21
Hunter
Willow doesn’t say a word.Doesn’t fight me as I wrap my arms around her. She just melts into me, her face pressing against my chest, hands curled into my jacket, holding on because I’m all that’s left to hold..
And maybe I am. I lift her into my arms, her head tucking into the crook of my neck. I don’t bother looking back into the restaurant to see Landon. I knew this was a bad idea. That he would hurt her all over again.Bastard.If I wasn’t worried about getting her back to her apartment, I’d throttle him.
Her scent is still a tangled mess—peaches and heat and something raw, something aching. And underneath it, buried beneath the layers of pain and betrayal, is a sweetness that calls to every damn part of me.
I grit my teeth, locking my arms tighter around her as I step onto the sidewalk. The street is crowded, the city alive around us, but I don’t care.
It’s not like the people of New York are going to stop and stare. I’m sure they’ve seen things that are much more out there than an alpha carrying an omega.
Willow stays tucked against my chest, her breath warmagainst my neck, her fingers curled into my jacket. She doesn’t ask me to put her down. And I don’t offer.
