I turned the name over in my mind. It fit him better than North — a real name, a human name, something that belonged to the person he'd been before the feral years swallowed him whole.
"Cal," I repeated. "That's good. That's really good."
Something flickered in his expression. Almost a smile, if a smile could be that broken.
"You called me North," he said. "I heard you. Through the bond. I didn't mind."
"I didn't know what else to call you."
"North is good." His thumb traced across my knuckles, still holding my hand against his face. "It's where you found me. Where I—"
He stopped. The shaking was coming back, subtle tremors running through his body.
"Where you what?" I asked gently.
He didn't answer. His eyes had gone distant, looking at something I couldn't see.
"Cal."
He flinched at the name. Like it hurt. Like remembering hurt.
"I don't know," he said. "I can't— there are pieces. Flashes. But when I try to hold them, they—"
His voice cracked. His breathing stuttered.
The wolf surged.
I felt it through the bond — the animal rising up, trying to drag him back under. His body tensed, bones shifting beneath the skin, and for a moment I thought I'd lost him.
"No," I said. Firm. Clear. "Stay with me. Cal. Stay."
His eyes snapped to mine. Wild. Desperate.
"I don't know how," he gasped. "It's too much. Everything is too loud and too bright and I can't—"
"Then don't think about everything." I shifted closer, pressing my forehead to his. The same gesture James used with me. Grounding. Centering. "Just think about this. Just me. Just this room. Just right now."
His breathing was ragged against my lips. I could feel the war happening inside him — man and wolf, fighting for control.
"Breathe," I said. "Match me. In... and out. In... and out."
Slowly, painfully, he tried.
In. Out. In. Out.
The trembling eased. The wolf retreated, not gone but quieter. And Cal stayed.
Human. Terrified. But here.
"There you go," I whispered. "There you are."
His hand found my waist. Pulled me closer, not with desire but with need — the desperate need to be held, to be touched, to have proof that he wasn't alone.
I let him. Wrapped my arms around him and held on while he shook.
We stayed like that for a long time.
The light through the window shifted from gray to gold.
