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“Sorry for interrupting your conversation,” I joked as I walked next to Christa, heading for the hole-in-the-wall pub down the street.

“That’s okay, it wasn’t a very good one,” Christa said. “Is Jenny still at home?”

I nodded. “You were taking a while, and something felt off. I wanted to make sure you weren’t in danger, so I told her she could watch TV and we’d be back home soon. I hope that was okay.”

“I’m glad you came,” Christa said.

Relief flooded me. Our parenting journey was so vastly different from anything I’d seen or encountered yet, and I felt like I was constantly afraid of doing the wrong thing when it came to my role. Christa’s validating my decision helped me bolster my sense that I was doing the right thing.

I held open the door to the pub, and Christa entered.

“Bar or table?” I asked her.

“Either is fine,” she replied.

It was still early in the evening, so not many patrons were present. Even so, I didn’t feel like having a conversation with our backs turned toward the door, so I led Christa toward a small table off to the side where I had open sightlines in case Gage—or anyone else—decided to make an appearance.

Christa sat down and turned her head toward the bar expectantly, looking in search of that drink I promised her. As if on cue, the waitress headed over to take our order.

“What can I get you?” she asked.

“Double shot of tequila on the rocks, please,” Christa said.

“And for you?” the waitress asked me.

“The same, hold the ice.”

She scurried away and returned moments later with two glasses and a bowl of limes, set them in front of us, and returned to her position behind the bar. Christa picked up her glass and took a sip of the clear liquid before biting into a lime.

“Yup, tastes just like I remember,” she commented. “Cold and hot at the same time.”

“But damn, does it help,” I added, slamming my drink to the back of my throat in one gulp. “Why do you sip yours?”

“If you drink it all at once, it all tastes bad. If you sip it, you’ll start to get a buzz before you’re done, and it’ll taste better,” she said with a shrug.

“Really?”

“Honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve had any, but it sounds like a nice explanation, doesn’t it?”

I chuckled at the stereotypical “Chris” response. She didn’t appear to be uneasy in the least after her encounter with Gage. He had said some vile and threatening things to her, but she had held her head high the entire time. If I were in her position, I was sure I would have felt the urge to run away, but she’d seemed calm and collected.

“Are you doing okay, Chris? Need anything, besides the strong drink?”

She shrugged. “I’m okay. Desmond isn’t the first man I’ve met with a sense of entitlement and a predisposition to making everyone around him feel uncomfortable. I know how to handle guys like that.”

I knew the world was full of men who were more than happy to intimidate those who appeared to be weaker or smaller than them, but the thought that Christa had enough experience with that type, enough to feel capable of walking away unscathed time and time again from them, made me want to rage against the world.

My protective urge grew stronger as I realized that she should have had me there to protect her all this time. I was the one who failed her.

Christa had always been strong—that had been one of the things that drew me to her in the first place. But the years she had spent raising Jenny alone had only served to make her even more formidable. I was thankful she had the skills necessary to stay safe, and to protect Jenny.

“You’re good at reading people, aren’t you?” I noted.

“Usually,” she agreed. “For example, right now you look like you could use another drink.”

Funny, wise, insightful, loyal, and with a beauty that rivaled anything else in the world. I had been a fool to ever let her go.

I ordered another drink, this time a mixer, and Christa and I sat in companionable silence while we waited. After it arrived, I decided it was time to ask the question that had been burning in my mind since I had interrupted the confrontation between Gage and Christa.

“I have to ask, why did you defend me to Gage?”

Christa inhaled sharply. “I didn’t think you heard that. How long were you listening, exactly?”

“Long enough.”

“And you didn’t step in sooner?” she asked, her head cocked to one side.

“It seemed like you had everything under control,” I said with a shrug. “I only interrupted because I wanted to see him squirm at being caught. But you didn’t answer my question.”

I could see that she was deciding whether to answer or change the subject again. We had made progress, but I knew she still didn’t trust me. I was surprised when she decided to open up.

“Because that’s what I do, I guess. I defend the people I care about. Don’t get any ideas, though,” she warned, taking another sip of her tequila. “Just because I defended you to Desmond doesn’t mean you’re forgiven for the past.”

“I know,” I assured her.

She was silent again, and I could see that her thoughts were far away as she finished her drink.

“I know what you did for me all those years ago, and how it changed your life in Sparkle Hollow,” I admitted. “I had my secretary find out about it a few weeks ago. I’m sorry. I never intended for you to suffer the consequences for me.”

“It was my choice,” she said, her voice shaking a little.

“Still doesn’t make it right,” I said. “I messed up.”

She sighed deeply and started playing with her empty glass, avoiding eye contact with me. I could see her inner struggle to be honest, but she pushed through.

“I’m still haunted by it. Not just how it ended and you leaving, but all of it. The thoughts of what could have been, you know?”

“I know,” I agreed.

“Anyway, we should probably get home,” Christa said, breaking the tension. “Jenny will be wondering what we’re up to.”

I paid the tab, and we began the walk toward home, going slowly and leaning into each other for support in our partially inebriated state. We were nearly there when I felt a sudden urge to come clean.

“Hold on, Chris,” I said, pulling her to a stop and turning so we faced each other. “I’ve gone long enough without telling you the story behind the reason I left, but I don’t think I can keep it from you any longer. Can I…would you hear it? Is that okay?”

She nodded, so I plunged in headfirst.

“You know when we were younger, my choice of friendships wasn’t always the best. Well, the people I was running around with back then… they liked to play pranks. Cruel ones,” I said, highlighting the darkness of my story before I got too far into it. I wanted her to know she could stop me at any time.

“Go ahead,” she encouraged.

“We were all out drinking one night, wandering around in the forest near Sparkle Hollow and messing around,” I said. “They saw a car heading toward town on the old country road that crosses the train tracks. A train was coming, but the car was going to pass through first.”

“Wait,” Christa said, frowning. “That crash happened the night before you left.”

I nodded, continuing. “The guys thought it would be funny for one of us to pretend their foot was stuck in the tracks, to make whoever was in the car think they were going to get hit. We drew straws to see who would do it, and I drew the short straw.”

“Col…”

“Hold on. Let me get this out,” I plead. “I got into position a little way away from the road and started making a racket, waving my hands to get them to stop, while my friends hid in the bushes by the road to watch what they would do. The car stopped on the tracks, and a man got out and walked toward me. I thought he knew a train was coming, but he was moving slowly. By the time he got to me and saw that I wasn’t really stuck, there was no way for him to get back to the car in time.”

Christa covered her mouth with her hands. I was sure she had heard about the train hitting the car, but she had never heard this part of the story before. No one had.

“My friends and I laughed at his expression when I jumped free of the tracks,” I continued. “I expected him to jump after me, but after he realized I was out of danger, he cursed at me, called me an idiot, and sprinted back toward his car. I remember thinking that he was an idiot for running in the same direction as the train. I didn’t realize his wife was asleep in their vehicle.”

“He was trying to save her. He didn’t know a train was coming and thought he was just checking on you,” Christa realized.

“He wasn’t fast enough to get her out, and the train killed them both instantly,” I said. Tears began welling up in my eyes for the tragedy I had inflicted. “I went back to Sparkle Hollow and told the alpha what had happened—most of it, anyway. My friends, of course, fled the moment their plan went awry.”

“I don’t remember you being in Sparkle Hollow that day,” Christa said, concentrating on her memories. “I remember going to the pack house and hearing everyone argue about you, wanting to track you down.”

“It was early in the morning, before you would have been awake,” I explained. “They told me the couple who had been killed were allies of the pack, and that my actions had caused too many problems for them. They were going to lock me up with silver chains in the cells. I would have been okay with being punished for what I’d done, but they knew about my interest in you. They threatened to put you in the cells with me, too.”

“But they never did,” Christa said.

I shook my head, my heart dropping to my stomach as I said the next words. “No, because I told them I didn’t care about you. I wanted to throw them off your scent and make them think I didn’t have any feelings for you so that you would be safe from their punishment.”

“Then why did you run away?” she asked. “Why not stay in the cell until your punishment was over, and then be free of them with me?”

“Because they needed to believe I didn’t love you, and that hurting you wouldn’t affect me,” I explained. “No wolf would accept that kind of punishment unless it was for a noble cause—like protecting their mate. So when they tried to subdue me, I fought back. I injured some of them and ran away. It was the only thing I could do to keep you safe. I never imagined you’d try to defend me and end up being punished, anyway.”

“It looks like we caused our own downfalls,” Christa said with a sigh.

I placed my hands on either side of her face, staring deeply into her gray eyes so she would know how much I meant my next words.

“Chris, I am so sorry for the hurt I’ve caused and for the things I’ve done,” I said. “It’s unforgivable, but I hope to someday earn that forgiveness from you.”

“Forgiveness isn’t earned. It’s given,” she replied softly. “And I forgive you.”

Tears fell down my cheeks at the simple yet beautiful statement. I had a long way to go toward forgiving myself, but Christa made it seem like it might be possible.

I leaned forward and gave her a tender kiss, feeling the softness of her lips against my own. With a delicate touch, her hands reached up to brush the tears away from my cheeks as I pulled away.

“I’ve got a lot of making up to do,” I assured her. “But I swear to you, I’ll be a better man. The man you deserve.”