Courage. He is yours.
How she wanted the whisper to be true. How she wanted this dear man to be hers.
He is.
But how to proceed then? What was there for her to do?
Hold on to him.
Willow’s fingers curled in Ezra’s now tear-soaked shirt. “O-okay.”
Ezra’s fingers wove into her curls. He drew a breath as though to ask a question, but he still couldn’t speak.
“I’ll have courage and hold onto you. That’s what I’ll do. That’s what I choose.”
Ezra stroked her hair, and she rubbed his back. In the next few minutes, their breathing synced, deepened. Pressed close to him, she felt it when his pain at the severing she had attempted finally eased.
“I won’t try that again,” she whispered against his chest.
“Please.”
“I promise. I just got so scared for you when I saw the police, I did what I told you not to. I tried to decide for you instead of with you. I’m sorry.”
He sighed with quiet relief. At last he said, “It’s okay, Wil.”
She tilted her head up and whispered into his ear. “My wolf.”
“My Willow,” he said, his words now laced with a contented growl. This was the sound she wanted to bring out of him. Never that other sound, never again.
“You can say it, Ez.”
He kissed the top of her head, and then he kissed her mouth, the salt of her tears on their lips.
“Say it,” she said.
“My mate.” He kissed her again, and this time the growl behind the words was the precise timbre to curl her toes. “My mate.”
Twenty-Three
Fourdaysago,aroundthis time, Willow had been enjoying caramel almond ice cream and carefree conversation with her wolf, no idea that she’d arrive home to an ultimatum, to Mom shoving luggage at her and ordering her to pack. Four days ago she’d known she belonged with Ezra but had never tested the knowledge.
Life could change so much in four days.
Now she sat at the Sterlings’ dining table with a mug of tea, Ann across from her sipping from her own mug, Robert working on a project somewhere in the house that involved periodic taps of a hammer. In a few minutes she would drive with them to the alpha’s home, where something had been scheduled called a pack council. The whole pack would be there, Ann had explained, to discuss the police presence on the Lane last night.
“I’ve really complicated your lives,” Willow said, her hands wrapped around her steaming mug.
“I don’t have wolf instincts,” Ann said with a smile, “but I’ve been a mama for thirty-four years, and that comes with a few strong instincts of its own. And I say you’re well worth it.”
“Thank you.” Willow ducked her head to inhale the soothing scent of her tea and hide the threat of tears. She’d had no idea parents talked this way. It was overwhelming.
“I’ve been meaning to show you this.” Ann stood and crossed the kitchen to the fridge. She released a glossy photograph from the hold of a magnet and brought it to Willow. “I found it in one of my books yesterday. Guess I was using it as a bookmark about twenty years ago.”
A little blond boy gazed straight at her from the picture, maybe eight or nine years old. He sat at a low kids’ table behind a gray castle topped with red and yellow flags. One turret nearly reached his chin. He wore a light-green T-shirt with a blue biplane on the chest. He didn’t smile, instead posed with solemn gravity.
“Little Ezra,” Willow said needlessly. Her heart swelled with fondness for her serious, methodical wolf. She touched one finger lightly to his sweet little face. “He’s so easy to recognize. Not just his eyes but the look in his eyes.”
Ann patted her shoulder. “That young pup taught me a lot. Every kid teaches you, you know, how to be a parent. My firstborn Sydney was a force of nature, judge and jury with very definite expectations for the world around her. She taught me to nurture her spirit while teaching her to harness that whirlwind inside herself for good. Then my second little pup came along, and he didn’t whoosh through every room on a mission. Little Ezra stood at the edge of the room and watched everybody. Took it all in for a long time before joining. He taught me to give him space and to make spaces for him, quiet soft spaces where he could think. Overall where he could be safe. He was barely three years old the first time I realized as his mama—the world wasn’t naturally safe to Ezra. It was a lot of stimulation, a lot of data, a lot of risk until he had time to see the safe places. It still is that way for him, I think. But you know that, Willow.”
