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“Instead he acted like a mad man and I was nothing more than an object. Don’t get me wrong, I like an alpha man as much as the next girl, but I’m not… a thing.”

“Preach,” she nods. She sets her drink on the small table between our chairs. “Honestly, I have to say that I’m shocked. I didn’t think Ray had it in him to be violent.”

“Well, apparently he does.” Her lips part, but I hold up a hand stopping her before she says it. “Don’t you dare blame the wolf.” I lean back, crossing my arms. “Wolf or not, he doesn’t get a free pass. His instincts don’t excuse what he did.”

Erica shrugs and sighs. She shakes her head.

“Look, I’m not making excuses, but… it is hard for shifters. Sam and Raul spent years learning to control their instincts. I don’t think that Ray has.”

I scoff. “Apparently.”

“Look, I’ve had to learn a lot. It’s not just about when they shift,” she says, leaning forward. “The animal’s always there. Even when they’re in human form, it whispers and pushes. If they don’t train themselves to control it, it will take over.”

I stare at her for a long moment. There a lot I don’t know about the Crawfords and their nature.

“Yeah… well…” I trail off, digesting that. Trying to find it in myself to forgive him. “I didn’t know. But it still doesn’t justify what he did.”

“No,” Erica agrees. “It doesn’t, but it explains it. Some at least.” She studies me from behind her long, gorgeous lashes that I’ve always been jealous of. “You should’ve spent more time with us in Dawson. Then you’d understand him better.”

“I don’twantto understand him. He embarrassed me. And Monica. That night was supposed to be the moment, not… this.”

Erica smirks. “He got what he deserved then?”

“Oh, yeah. I slapped him. Hard.”

She snorts—literally, coffee through the nose. She scrambles for a napkin, laughing.

“You slapped Ray?”

“Yes I did,” I say, a grin forming despite myself. “Believe me, I wanted to do more.”

“Gutsyandstupid.” She dabs at her chin. “He could’ve shifted and?—”

“Bitten my head off?” I finish. “Yeah. Didn’t think of that ‘til after I left.”

Erica shakes her head, the smile fading. “That means something, though. He didn’t lose it. Even when provoked. That’s control. That’s… softness. For you, specifically.”

“Don’t,” I say, looking out over her perfect green lawn. “Don’t turn this into some romance novel moment. I’m not his project or his possession—I’m a person, damn it.”

“You do.” Her voice is gentle. “But he was better the night he saved you, wasn’t he?”

I nod, slowly. Remembering how he intervened and kept me from getting my ass kicked by a jealous wife I hadn’t known existed.

“That’s what gets me. That night, he was… kind. Gentle, even. I saw something in him. Something I thought was real.”

Erica watches me for a long moment, silent, but clearly having something she wants to say.

“Look, I’m not saying forgive him, but he is Sam and Raul’s brother. That makes him part of my and Monica’s life. And we want you back in Dawson.”

“I don’t?—”

She cuts me off with a frown, her face shifting to her serious I-will-brook-no-shit expression.

“You don’t have to like him. You don’t even have to talk to him. But this weekend, you get your ass back there and bury the hatchet.”

I roll my eyes. “He won’t have forgotten that slap.”

“Probably not, but you’re my and Monica’s friend. I don’t want to miss you, so don’t lethimtake that away.”