Chapter 14 - Skylar
I’ve replayed my conversation with Bryan on the porch a hundred times over the last two days, turning each confession over in my mind like a stone I can’t stop examining. The guilt he’s carried for a decade. The missions that turned him into someone he barely recognizes. The twisted logic that made him believe walking away was the only way to keep me safe.
I understand now. I do. But understanding doesn’t erase the years of wondering what I did wrong, and it doesn’t magically rebuild the trust he shattered when he left me standing alone under that oak tree.
Still, something between us has changed. The silence in the cabin feels different now. It’s less hostile, more cautious. Like we’re both testing the ground beneath our feet, trying to figure out if it will hold our weight. He still sleeps on the couch, and I still retreat to the bedroom each night, but the door doesn’t feel quite so much like a barricade anymore.
I’m finishing up the last of my patient notes at the medical center when Bryan appears in the doorway of my office. He’s dressed for patrol in dark jeans and a fitted Henley, and his black hair is still damp from a recent shower. The sight of him makes my stomach somersault, no matter how stupid my brain thinks that reaction is.
“Hey,” he greets me.
“Hey.”
He leans against the doorframe, watching me. “I’m heading out to check the eastern perimeter. James wants extra coverage after what happened to Landon last week.”
“Makes sense.”
A pause. Then, almost hesitantly, he adds, “You could come with me. If you want.”
I set down my pen and look at him, cocking my head to the side. “You want me to join you on patrol?”
“The medical center is closing soon anyway. And you’ve been cooped up inside for days.” He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Might be nice to stretch your legs. Get some fresh air. Your wolf probably needs a good run.”
He’s not wrong about that. I’ve been so focused on work and on avoiding the complicated feelings that surface whenever Bryan is near that I’ve neglected the part of me that craves open sky and soft earth beneath my paws.
Part of me thinks spending more time with Bryan is a terrible idea, that every moment in his presence chips away at the walls I’ve spent a decade building.
But another part of me is tired of being angry. Tired of fighting. Tired of pretending I don’t feel the pull between us every time he walks into a room.
“Fine,” I hear myself say. “Let me grab my jacket.”
The forest is beautiful this time of evening. Golden light filters through the canopy, sending dapples of light along the trail as we walk. The scent of pine and damp earth fills my lungs, mingled with the faint sweetness of wildflowers blooming somewhere nearby. A woodpecker drums against a distant tree, and somewhere to our left, a stream babbles over rocks.
Bryan sets an easy pace, shortening his long stride to match mine. We don’t talk at first, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. It’s almost peaceful, actually. Two wolves moving through their territory, alert but not anxious. Ourfootsteps fall into an easy rhythm, crunching against the carpet of fallen leaves and pine needles.
I steal glances at him when I think he isn’t looking. The way he eyes the tree line, taking stock of every sound and movement. The new scars I’ve noticed on his forearms, pale lines against tanned skin that speak to years of violence I can barely imagine. The set of his shoulders, still vigilant even in this quiet moment.
He’s different from the boy I fell in love with; there’s no denying that, but every now and then, I catch glimpses of the person he used to be. The way his mouth quirks when something amuses him. The gentleness in his voice when he asks how my day was. The careful way he moves around the cabin, always giving me space, never pushing for more than I’m ready to give.
“Anything suspicious?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Not so far. The patrols have been quiet since the last attack.” He steps over a fallen log and offers me his hand without thinking. I take it, also without thinking, and the feel of his palm against mine sends a jolt through my entire body. We both let go quickly once I’m over the obstacle, neither of us acknowledging the moment. “James thinks Rafe is regrouping. Planning something bigger.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“I didn’t say it to scare you.”
“I know.” I duck under a low-hanging branch, and its leaves brush against my hair. “I just hate waiting. Not knowing when or where they’ll strike next.”
“That’s the hardest part. The anticipation. You learn to live with it eventually. The constant vigilance becomes background noise. You stop jumping at every shadow and starttrusting your instincts to alert you when something’s actually wrong.”
“Is that what it was like? In the agency?”
He’s quiet for a moment, considering the question. “Sometimes. Other times, it was just action. Move, fight, survive. Repeat. There wasn’t much room for anything else. You couldn’t afford to think too hard about what you were doing or why. You just did it and dealt with the aftermath later.”
I want to ask more, but something in his face tells me he’s reached his limit for today. So I let it go, and we continue walking in silence.
We’ve covered maybe a mile when Bryan suddenly stops. His entire body goes still, and for a heart-stopping second, I think he’s spotted a threat. My wolf rushes forward, ready to fight or flee.
