And now he’s walking toward danger again.
“I trust you,” I say, my voice steady even though my heart is shaking. “And I trust you’ll come back.”
His breath breaks, just slightly, against my cheek.
“I will,” he murmurs. “No matter what happens with him… I will.” Then, softer, “Just… don’t stop being here when I get back.”
My chest aches. “I won’t.”
He presses a slow, reverent kiss to my forehead, one that feels like a vow, a tether, a promise he’s terrified of breaking.
Then he pulls back just enough for me to feel the loss of his warmth.
“Okay,” he whispers, voice fierce and soft all at once. “I’m going.”
But he doesn’t move. Not yet. His hand lingers at my waist. His thumb strokes once more along my skin.
His breath hovers near my lips like he wants to kiss me, needs to, but won’t, not until he’s certain he’s safe to hold again.
“Jason,” I breathe, “come back home.”
A small, broken, beautiful sound escapes, and then he steps away, leaving the warmth of the gazebo. Leaving my hands empty. Leaving the air colder behind him.
But not leaving me.
Never that.
“You better be,” I say, sliding my hands up his arms. “Because this gazebo? This garden? This home we’re building together? It’s waiting for you.”
His breath catches. “I promise,” he whispers. “I’ll come back.”
“Not ‘I’ll try.’ Not ‘I’ll do my best.’” My voice softens but sharpens at the edges. “Come home. Period.”
He cups my face in both hands. “Always.”
The word is firm and solid enough to build a life on.
And just like that he’s gone, running toward the last piece of his past he has to face. And then, hopefully, running straight home to me.
Chapter 27
Jason
The forest is too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet, the haunted kind. The kind laced with old memories and old wounds and breaths that come too sharp in the lungs.
Froggy’s trail winds erratically through the trees. He’s panicked. Running wrong. Running with his weight off-balance, claws deep, leaving trenches in the dirt.
A wolf running for his life.
“Froggy!” I shout, voice echoing through the trees.
The forest swallows it.
My wolf pushes forward, pulling me faster. My knees burn, lungs ache, branches whip my face. I ignore all of it. I follow the scent of fear and resentment, and something worse—hopelessness.
I find him in a clearing.
