I wonder if she realizes just how true her words are, and how much I feel like a clumsy teenager all over again.
More ripples of laughter, warmer and more welcome, fall on my ears from Johanna. I pass by the near end of the sofa and settle right next to her. The soft cushions depress, tipping her against my side. This close, her subdued cranberry scent dispels the vestiges of Anamaria’s lilac.
Unfortunately, Johanna squirms and shifts to put a little space between us.
I turn so we’re face to face, mere feet separating our mouths. A flush tinges her cheeks to a lovely soft pink. Her mouth opens, and I instantly press a finger against my own lips.
“If you’re going to say anything more in favor of supporting the Sage Street Community, save it for tomorrow,” I warn.
“I just?—”
“I get it. I’ve already agreed it’s a good idea, three times over.” I sigh and kick off my shoes, letting the dull thuds as they tip over on the floor carry away a little of my frustration at retreading the topic all through dinner and beyond, when there are equally pressing and unsettled matters. “We need to talk about other things.”
“Such as?”
“Dan. Nathan. Us.”
She looks away, and the movement exposes the line of her throat. My inner alpha perks up, watching for her pulse and considering how well her skin would show a bite mark. Her index finger draws abstract circles and swirls on her thigh, creating a soft rustle as its tip passes over the silk.
“Do you want them to be part of this?” I ask, attention shifting between her bare neck, angled face, and finger tracing on silk. “Don’t make me guess. It’s important enough that I don’t want to take the chance of being wrong.”
“You’re not talking about the trust, are you?” She gives me a quick sideways glance—shy or coquettish?
“Johanna.”
“I don’t know why Max invited them.” Even dead, Max is always at the forefront of her thoughts. I don’t begrudge him his place there; I just wish she’d make room for more than him.
“It doesn’t matter for this.” I lean forward and brush her shoulder. She starts, shivering under the caress as the silk warms between our skin, face lifting to meet my gaze. My alpha puffs in pleasure at the lovely flush on her face, color spilling down her cheeks to her neck.
“But—”
“Max’s reasons don’t matter. He’s not here to ask. He never will be. We may trust he meant well, but have to go forward or not with them for ourownsake. Not his.”
Johanna stops drawing circles on her thigh, instead clutching at the cloth and pulling the hem higher up her calf.
I draw a whistling breath through my teeth and grimace.“I’m sorry—I miss him too, it’s just ...”
“No, you’re right.” She releases the fabric, smoothing it over her leg. “We have to muddle through not knowing why.”
“We can guess.”
“Guess what?” She tilts her head high, likely unaware that the movement again exposes her neck, giving my alpha more opportunities to select a place to bite, should we ever have the chance. “That he asked them in hopes one or more would want to stick around?”
“Exactly.” I clap once, the sting of my palms meeting serves as a reminder to not push too hard, too fast. It’s so damn tough to resist.
“Why would he?” she asks.
“Because he loved you and wanted you to have the life you dreamed of.” Surely she knows, but maybe she needs to hearsomeone else say the words, especially someone who knew Max almost as well as she did.
“How can you know?” She rubs her hands, pressing her fingers against her collarbone.
“I can’t, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.” Careful to keep my grip gentle, I grasp her hands. Any sign of resistance, and I’ll let go.
She doesn’t pull back. Her fingers aren’t that cold, but I warm them between mine anyway, willing her to hear me. “Don’t you dare let what Max might have wished be why you do anything with any of us. Don’t build yourself a pack becausehegave you the chance at one as a parting gift. Don’t deny it for yourself, either, because of that. Do it or not because it’s whatyouwant. We can’t go back, only forward.”
“You think I’m not trying?” Johanna leans forward, chin up and out and eyes narrowed—but she doesn’t pull her hands away.
“I think you’re scared.”
