I opened my mouth and then closed it again. The words lodged in my throat like broken glass.
“I’m fine,” I managed finally, after too long of a pause. The lie tasted bitter. “Everything’s fine. Reed’s… busy. I need a ride back to the commune. He told me about you. He said you were a friend.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re soaking wet.”
“It’s raining.”
“Harris—”
“I just need a ride. Please.”
She studied me for a beat too long. Then she sighed, grabbed her keys from the desk behind her, and nodded. “Come on.”
* * *
The drive back to the commune was silent. Dr. Langley tried twice to ask me what happened. Both times, I deflected.
After the second time, she stopped trying.
When we pulled up to the gravel lot, she put the car in park and turned to look at me. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Doing great,” I lied, trying my best to sound normal. “Thanks for the ride.”
I got out before she could press further.
The commune was quiet. There was no one outside—they were probably all still in the mess hall. That was for the best.
I walked to Reed’s cabin. Reed’s cabin—not ours,neverours, apparently. I let myself in.
The space felt too big. And way too empty. It had never felt that way before.
I stood in the doorway, dripping rainwater onto the floor. Then, moving mechanically, I pulled my duffel out from under the bed and started packing. My clothes. The toiletries I’dbought in town. The novel we’d been reading together, a bookmark halfway through it.
I stared at the book in my hand for a long time.
We weren’t going to finish it together, after all.
I shoved it into the bag.
The packing should’ve taken ten minutes, twenty tops. Instead, it felt like hours. I kept stopping and sitting down at the edge of the bed, sagging like a marionette with cut strings. I kept staring at the kitchen where Reed had made me breakfast. At the couch where we’d sat together, my feet in his lap, reading in companionable silence.
At the bed where we’d made love.
I felt hollowed out. Like someone had scooped out everything vital and left only the shell behind.
This was a mistake.
And the worst part—the absolute worst part—was that I could still feel him. Distant but unmistakably there. A thread of emotion and sensation I couldn’t shut off even if I wanted to.
I could feel his emotions, too. Fear and guilt. And most damning of all,finality.
He’d meant it. Every single word.
I sat on the bed, the duffel half-packed beside me, and let myself think the thought I’d been avoiding. Maybe I was stupid to believe I could stay at all.
I was human. He was a werewolf. An alpha. With a pack to protect and responsibilities I couldn’t begin to understand. Of course it wouldn’t work.
I should’ve known better. Hell, maybe I should’ve left when he first told me to, back when he was still being an asshole about it. Before I let myself begin to trust him. Before I’d let myself fall in love with him.
