A hint of challenge sparks in Dan’s gaze. “You’re the one who’s known him these last decades.”
Exactly. I knew Max. I didn’t guess—couldn’t have predicted—that he’d reach out to Dan at the end. Not knowing the ‘why’ nags at me. Yet Max wouldn’t have written to Dan, especially that last note, without having fully investigated him. Perhaps even with a report detailing all the medications Dan’s been on over the years.
Corin would know. No, Corindoesknow, since he gave me a quick overview of Dan’s life a few days earlier: job, two grown children, no mate, no pack.
Max might have forgiven Dan without a detailed background investigation, but he wouldn’t have invited Dan to reenter my life without assurance that he’d changed. Of course, Max must have instigated the investigation of Danbeforehe fell ill, which still leaves open the question ofwhy. But that’s not a question I can expect Dan to be able to answer. Or even Corin.
“Max forgave you,” I say, in case Dan needs to hear it.
“Yes.” His scent flares as his eyes squeeze shut for a long moment, then open and focus on me as though he might be able to see inside. “It’s a last gift, and a burden. I don’t know if I would’ve loved him if things had gone differently, but I loved you.”
“And I loved you, too,”—though, in this one exchange, I’ve learned aspects of him unknown before—“but it’s been decades. We’re different people now.”
“Maybe. Definitely.” He sighs, then stands and shrugs. “I’m here to pay a debt, to Max and to you, but if you want me gone, I’ll go.”
“Stay for now.” I rise, too, grasping the back of my chair to steady myself on shaky feet. He’s offered me so many truths that the least I can do is offer one back. “If you hadn’t made me choose back then, I wouldn’t have. I’d have balanced seeing you and Max separately as long as I could.”
“We wouldn’t have worked out. I’d have messed it up later, if not sooner.” He reaches out, but pulls back at the last moment, face haunted. “But I’d never have hurt you intentionally. You were the best thing my alpha ever smelled. You still are.”
An electric shiver runs through my bones. That’s too much to deal with. I need privacy and space to work through the implications of what he’s shared, which have, so far, slipped through my fingers. Privacy, space, and air—free of the wonderful, midnight-forest aroma I’ve always loved.
It will have to wait, though. I’ve delayed Corin’s meeting long enough. “Let’s see what Max asked of you.”
Max offered Dan a second chance, not for Dan’s sake but formine. I don’t love Dan anymore. I don’t know him enough—even after his revelations—to say if that will change, but I’m not ready to let go of Max’s last gift.
Except Max had another surprise in store for me.
I only see two people when I lead Dan into the conference room. Corin, seated at the head of the oval table, quickly stands and comes around to greet Dan. They exchange the usual tight-fisted handshakes between alphas, testing each other’s strength. Their scents mingle in the air, forming a not-unpleasant aroma of a cedar-and-apple-tree forest before dissipating under the whirr of the purifier overhead.
Anamaria smiles and nods from a chair beside the one Corin left. Then, her eyes catch on something behind me—or rather, someone.
A softka-chunkof chair legs moving against the blue carpet is a hint that the fifth person summoned to help with Max’s estate has already arrived.
The scent of hot wax and a just-snuffed candle add to the midnight forest and cedar coming from Dan and Corin, plus a hint of lilac across the way.
I know who I’ll see before I turn.
Nathan looks much as he did less than a year ago, when we first met. His shaven head gleams under the overhead lighting that brings out a subtle gold undertone to his tawny skin. A few gray streaks grizzle the dark-brown of his close-trimmed beard. His navy suit hangs a little loosely on his lanky frame, and a good yank would undo his silver-blue striped tie.
After the last heat, I’d never expected to see him again. The gift of roses and the blank book changed my mind on that front, but not enough for me to expect he’d show up at the office, certainly not at Max’s request.
How many secrets had Max kept in the months before he died?
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.” His warm hand scoops up mine, from my side and he brushes a kiss across my knuckles, then turns his hand to cradle my chilly fingers, not letting go.
“It’s good to see you, too.” I manage, swallowing hard despite a throat suddenly gone tight.
“I wish Max were here to enjoy it.”
The words echo those I’ve heard a thousand times since his death. Everyone who uttered their condolences meant them—I know that—and yet, it’s as though I’m hearing them for the first time. Sincerity shows clearly on his face, mingled with the same kind of loss I’ve faced.
In the wee hours, while Max had slept off the exertions of his heat, Nathan and I sat and talked. Warmth and dim light had given the nest a comfy aura, encouraging our exchange of ever-deeper secrets.
He’d shared some small part of the emptiness caused by losing both his mates in a car crash. The unexpectedness. Their absence. His guilt at living on. These all resonate so much more strongly now, changed from words and vague ideas tomylived experience.
It’s not that Corin and his daughters haven’t experienced loss, or that my relatives and friends cannot sympathize. They can and have. I’ve been blessed with so much support. Grief is grief is grief, whoever or whatever the loss.
Still, despite meeting again under such different circumstances, I feel kinship with this man. Both of us were robbed far too early of mates we expected to live with to the end.
