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One eyebrow lifts as I look at her in bewilderment.

“Don’t ask why. Just go. Shoo, shoo.”

I shake my head as I let out a soft laugh. “Whatever you say, Gail.”

Following me to my front door, she gives me a gentle wave as she walks away.

I will never understand how she knows everything, long before it’s even said aloud, but she is always right. Who am I to question it? She might not want me to break the bond, but that doesn’t mean that I have to give into it either. I won’t break it, but I will stay mateless all the same.

Warrick can have his girls, but that means I will find my own type of companionship. We can both have other people. See how he likes it.

I begin to pull open my front door but just as I am about to walk through it, I hear my name called out. Turning, I find Warrick running down the path towards my house.

“Wait, Aspen, hear me out.”

Shaking my head, I turn to walk inside when he bounds up the steps. A hand clamps down on my forearm, preventing me from walking into the house. I whip my head toward him. “Get your hands off me, Warrick.”

He holds his hands up. “Can’t you hear me out?”

Scoffing, I say, “No, Warrick, I won’t hear you out. Stay away from me. You being my mate changes nothing. You are still the same prick who chose to cheat on me, still the same asshole who just had Scarlett grinding on you, and you are still the same asshole who doesn’t care about anyone other than yourself. Why would this change any of that?”

“Because you are MINE!” he shouts at me.

“That’s where you are wrong, Warrick. I’ll never be yours. You lost me the minute I found you under those bleachers with another girl. Now, get off my porch,” I say as I walk into my house.

“This isn’t over, Aspen,” he says before I close the door in his face.

Resting my back on the door, I do what I can to slow my breathing.

That’s where he is wrong. This is over.

Chapter 4

Warrick

“Can I have another?” I ask the bartender as he walks past me.

A single nod is the only answer that I get. The ice swirls around in the amber liquid as I follow it with my eyes. The barstool beside me slides back, and I can feel the presence of someone beside me. Inhaling softly, I recognize the scent as Xavior. A sigh of relief comes out. I needed a friend tonight.

“This better not be you wanting me to act as a wingman tonight. You know I can’t stand hyping you up to some girl you only intend to bed tonight and never speak to again.” Xavioralways hated my self-destructive behavior, especially when it came to women. But young Xavior, the pre-military Xav, he at least would drink with me and hang out. Post military Xav? He is more likely to give me a twenty-minute lecture about all the reasons my behavior is a call for help and how I’ll never have my mate if I keep this up.

The cool touch of the glass against my lips is a calming reprieve from the thoughts rolling around in my head. I don’t feel the sting of the alcohol anymore, probably since I am on my third Old Fashioned of the night. As I set the glass down on the bar top of Pour Me Another, I look at Xavior.

“Don’t worry, Xav, I didn’t invite you here to be my wingman. Actually, I need some advice.”

His eyebrows shoot up.

After serving in the military for a few years, he came home to find Silas only focused on being the best wolf he could be and me drinking my life away while finding any available female to go home with that night. Many nights, he saved me from a drunken fight or face planting into the edge of the bar. I don’t think he’s ever actually been a wingman, more like a babysitter. The Xavior who left here isn’t the same one that came home.

“I know, you weren’t expecting that, but I need someone to talk to that might have the answers I need.”

A look of understanding passes over his face. “What can I help you with?”

“Aspen is my mate.” His eyebrows are back in his hairline. They will probably be there for most of what I am going to say next. My head rolls back on my shoulders as I look up at the ceiling. “Nobody knows. Well, except her and Silas. And all herfriends. Before you ask anything, I will try to bring you up to the present.”

The bartender, Nix, comes back with my next Old Fashioned. I should probably slow down, but it’s not like I have someone to go home to or plan to bring anyone home with me, either.

“Can I get you something, Xavior?” Nix asks as he wipes down the bar in front of us.