I gesture behind me where the juveniles have no doubt been herded by their parents back into the strange, unique rainforest area they exist in here, though I can imagine them peeking out from between the trees, sans glowy eyes.
Only one place has those.
“I didn’t come out here to say goodbye, Lanie. And I’m sorry to ruin the wolves’ peace, and yours. We had no choice on where to land. I had no choice but to come.” Cord limps forward, his pain etched in the deep lines of his face. “That sponge seat didn’t do shit.” He throws the barb over his shoulder.
“It’s your own damn fault.” West turns side-on and aims his rifle at the trees surrounding us. “Next time, listen to me and buy the luxury version.”
“I was in a hurry.”
“Not that way please,” I call out. “My family lives there.” My throat constricts as West turns his head in my direction without moving any other part of his body. I hurry to correct the misconception. “I mean, the family I live with while I’m here. My host family.” I flap my new wolf blanket around myself.
West jerks his head once and pivots to face the other direction. His eyes scan the tree line, but nothing moves toward the clearing. Not that I blame the wolves for staying back. Faced with him, I would, too.
Cord reaches out to tweak the decorative white ears on the new version of my wolf blanket that comes complete with tiny handmade tassels. “Someone left one like that at my place once,” he muses softly. “I was hoping she might come back and collect it.”
“You don’t want me there,” I blurt.
His gaze lifts to meet mine. “No?”
I shake my head, all too conscious of West listening in on our conversation. Fight. Whatever the hell this is. “I’ve started thinking in your voice,” I mutter, staring down at my thermos, and nudge it with the toe of my boot.
Cord starts to bend down. Breath hisses between his teeth. “Fuck. No, don’t help me,” he grits out when I reach for it, too.
“You stubborn, imperfect, improbable man,” I snap back, snatching the thermos away just as he makes it to ground level, and push back up.
Cord turns his head to look up at me, grinning. “Now that’s just rude, beautiful. Give an old man a hand up?”
I huff and haul him gently upright. His hand closes on mine, his firm, callused grip far too comfortable and warm around my cold fingers. “Why are you here?” I try not to let desperation edge into my voice but fail on the firstword.
Ever the perfect Montana gentleman, Cord never says anything about it. “I miss you,” he says simply.
I roll my eyes, bratting it up because this is who we are, who we’ve always been together. “Because no one ever says no to you.”
“Except for you.”
“And me,” West snipes.
“Yeah, but I ignore you,” Cord tosses back to him easily.
Too easily.
“That’s why I left.” I take a step back, pulling my hands free. The motion is enough to draw Cord’s attention my way as I tuck my arms into my jacket in a one-person hug.
He frowns, reaching for me, but I back up again, snuggling my empty thermos. “Because I ignore you?” His displeasure deepens, and I know he’s heading back through every interaction we’ve had, seeking evidence to support his side of the argument to present back to me.
Because that’s what Cord does. He finds ways around that version ofno,whatever that might look like, in order to turn that negative into a simpleyesinstead. His superpower.
Only I don’t have any moreyesesin me to give.
“I hurt you.” Deeper lines mask his face, though these ones aren’t from the sort of pain that comes from nerves or movement.
Whatever he thought he was coming up here to Alaska to fix, it isn’t this. It ruins him inside. I hate that, knowing I’m doing the same to him. It’s why I never said goodbye. Why West never called me back or chased me.
I watch him, my heart doing exactly what he says on demand.
Damn this man.
Cordell Rand knows exactly which heartstrings to pull, and he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.
