Page 24

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. His conversation is light and requires little input from me. He tells me about his work schedule, and which members of the pack he needs to go see, and how the training of the new guards is going. It feels completely disconnected from the chaos that is tumbling around my mind.

For months, I’ve wanted this, this banal conversation and companionship over a meal. I would have given anything to have him like this before I knew the truth. But I can’t undo what I heard.

He doesn’t want me.

I assume his father, our Alpha, has ordered him to fix this.

All of these little gestures aren’t because he wants me, they’re because he’s following orders.

It’s too little, too late.

I choke down a few more bites of breakfast and try to focus.

“Yelena, are you okay?” Austin asks, his voice breaking through my thoughts. His silver eyes meet mine and for the briefest moment, I swear I can see a flicker of true concern.

I muster up some enthusiasm and take a big bite of my buttery toast.

“I’m fine,” I lie, talking around the mouthful. “Just tired.”

He nods slowly in understanding and continues to shovel his food in his mouth.

“Maybe you should take a nap,” he adds with a small smile, “I would hate for you to get overly tired.”

I struggle to control my expression. His concern would be laughable and adorable if it were real, but because it’s not, it’s mostly infuriating. My decision to leave was the right one. I know that now.

“Maybe,” I shrug, tossing the bread crust on my plate and pushing it away from me.

He glances at the clock on the wall and curses, standing suddenly.

“I’m late for work. I have to run, but tell you what, I’ll stop by the pie shop this evening and bring you your favorite chocolate mousse pie for dessert!”

My favorite pie flavor is actually apple, but I don’t bother correcting him. Instead, I stand to take my plate up to the sink. He’s carrying his plate as well and we meet in the middle, awkwardly bumping into each other.

“Sorry,” he says, stepping back.

“No, that was me. I should have looked where I was going,” I say quietly.

The tension between us feels even more awkward, and I don’t know what to do. There’s a knot forming in my chest, and everything just hurts. I want this feeling to end, but the prospect of leaving feels so painful too.

We both set our dishes down at the same time. He turns and brushes his hand across my cheek. I hate that I still get butterflies from his touch.

On impulse I step into his caress and wrap my hands around his waist, giving him a quick hug. He’s stiff at first before he relaxes and hugs me back. His strong arms hold me tightly and I feel a small tingle of butterflies in my core. I hold him tighter, savoring this stolen moment of affection. In my own way, perhaps I’m saying goodbye to him.

“Have a good day,” he murmurs into my hair before releasing me and heading out the door.

Watching him go, I feel a pang of sorrow and an odd sense of relief.

With trembling fingers, I run my hand across my cheek where he had touched me. It still tingles, a ghostly reminder of what we could have been. I shake off the thought. There's no point in dwelling on things beyond reach. I hear the rumble of Austin’s motorcycle pull out of the driveway and watch from the kitchen window as it disappears down our road.

I walk back into the kitchen and start cleaning up, trying to keep my mind focused on the task at hand. It’s a soothing routine; washing dishes, wiping counters...simple things that keep me grounded in reality.

Once everything is clean, it’s time to go.

Gathering my belongings takes very little time. I have my purse and tote bag with my precious stash of cash and enough snacks to get me through the next few days and a small overnight bag with my favorite clothes. The shoebox with my photos andtrinkets from my childhood has been hidden in the trunk of my old car for days now. I’d saved for two years in high school to afford this old thing, working odd jobs here and there. It’s not flashy, with faded paint and a few small rips in the seat upholstery, but it’s reliable. And, most importantly, it’s mine.

I look around our shared cottage one last time and a deep sense of sadness fills my being. When I moved in here, I was full of so much hope for the future and now, that future doesn’t even exist.

Outside, I quickly lock up and move my belongings to the car. Most of my neighbors are at work, but the ones that are out wave to me. I wave back with a smile, praying to the Moon Goddess that no one thinks anything is amiss. I need to make sure I can get a head start before Austin realizes I’m gone.