“I know.” He drags his hand over his face, guilt pulling down his features. “I fucking know, but I did what I thought was bestfor you. I didn’t say goodbye because I thought you’d try to stop me from leaving. I wanted to protect you… from my life. From the fucking chaos that follows me. I didn’t want it to destroy you like it almost destroyed me.”
I look down at my feet, a heaviness settling in my stomach. “That wasn’t your decision to make.”
“When we met, I was in a bad place,” he continues. “When I wasn’t trying to forget about things and finding solace at the bottom of a bottle, I was a shell. You brought me back to life. You gave me purpose again, but I wasn’t ready then. I didn’t think I could give someone like you—someone so kind, amazing, and beautiful—the life you deserve.”
He steps closer. I can smell whiskey on his breath, only strengthening my resolve not to think about the what-ifs. “Looks like you’re still looking for answers at the bottom of a bottle.” I sniff pointedly. “Will you even remember this conversation tomorrow? Just like you forgot about me for the last year.”
“I never forgot about you.” He sounds and looks so earnest that my body craves him, wanting to snuggle under his chin and let him wrap his arms around me in a way that I know would feel so right. But since I can’t do that, I cross my arms instead. “You’re all I’ve thought about. You’ve consumed my every waking moment and haunted my dreams. Being away from you has been torture.” He starts pacing and talks quicker, like he can’t keep up with his racing thoughts. “When I found my pack, they helped me get better. I cut back on drinking, I worked on my self-esteem, and I started writing for fun again. Hell, I even started to think that maybe I could have a normal life after all—even a happy one. Yet despite things improving, my life will never feel complete without you in it. That’s why I had to come back here. For you.”
I’d imagined this scenario a thousand times, and he’s telling me everything I could want to hear, yet I still feel empty.
“Please.” His voice cracks. “Tell me how I can fix this. I’ll do anything.”
“You broke my heart, Jagger,” I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t expect to waltz back into my life and act like nothing has changed. I’m not the same person you met a year ago either.” I find my strength, my voice demonstrating that. He broke me into a thousand tiny pieces once, and there’s no way he or anyone else will ever have the power to do that again. “I’m glad you got the help you need and found a pack, but it’s best for everyone that we all just forget what happened between us.”
He staggers back as if I slapped him. “But I can’t forget. We’re scent matches.”
“Just because our bodies are pre-programmed to find each other’s scents attractive doesn’t mean we’re right for each other,” I retort, going against all my omega instincts that are telling me otherwise.
“You feel it.” Jagger steps closer again, narrowing the gap between us. “I know you do.”
He reaches out and strokes my cheek. His rich caramel scent clouds my judgment as I let myself momentarily get lost in the sensation. Finding a scent match was always my dream, but perhaps happily ever afters don’t happen for everyone. Kady and Faye were lucky enough to find their packs, but if my scent match is going to treat me how Jagger has, then maybe I’m better off without him.
“I’m not giving up on us, Delilah,” he murmurs.
He leans in close, so close that his scent makes my knees want to buckle, making me forget why I ever wanted to run away from him.
“You should,” I whisper.
“Walking out on you was the worst mistake of my life. I’m not doing it again.” His emerald stare stays locked on mine. “I’ll keepmy distance and respect your wishes, if that’s what you want, but I’m not going to stop trying to earn your forgiveness. Fuck, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Because there is no one else for me. There’s only you, and I hope that one day I can prove that I can be the alpha you deserve.”
His lips are a hairsbreadth from mine, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. Fortunately, the sound of a nearby car has me stumbling backward, breaking me from my stupor as I kick myself for my moment of weakness.
“You’re a songwriter.” My voice is flat, the moment over. “You’ve always been great with words.”
“These aren’t just words,” he insists. “I’ll show you. I promise.”
“Goodnight, Jagger.” I gesture at the exit. “You should get back to your show.”
He doesn’t move. “I love you, Delilah Goodwin.” His voice vibrates with sheer emotion. “And I’m going to prove it to you.”
At that moment, a blinding flash illuminates the darkness at the end of the alley.
“He’s here!” a man shouts. “With a girl!”
There’s a clamor of running footsteps as a gang of reporters, clutching cameras, start racing toward us.
“Jagger!” one yells. “Is this why you left the show?”
Jagger launches himself in front of me to hide me from the lights as he reaches for the door handle leading back into the club. He tries it a few times, but nothing. Shit. We’re locked out, fenced into a corner and surrounded by gossip-hungry paparazzi.
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“What are you doing here?”
Screeching tires approach along with an incessant beeping horn. The reporters scatter, jumping out of the way to avoidbeing hit as the car shows no sign of stopping, their panicked shrieks providing a temporary reprieve from their interrogation.
“Quick!” Jagger grabs my arm, so I have no other choice but be dragged along by him as adrenaline floods my body.
