Page 47

47

ZOEY

I pull into a parking spot beside the picnic area, making sure to give Warner’s bike a wide berth. Driving a stick shift with a broken wrist and a sore ankle is not the easiest thing in the world. Just as I turn off the engine, Warner is at my door, frowning at me through the window.

“Should you be driving?”

I tug on the handle, and he steps back enough to let the rusted door swing open before moving in close again.

“Not sure. Didn’t break any traffic laws on the way here though. Wanna help me down?”

I extend my good hand, but Warner leans in to scoop me up in a damsel-in-distress carry. Arguing seems useless, but I do grab on to the armrest before he can walk us away.

“Wait! There’re burritos!”

He chuckles, tilting me back into the cab of the truck so I can grab the paper bag.

“Good to go?” he asks.

“Yep!”

Warner uses his booted foot to kick the door closed, then walks with me toward a picnic table. Normally, I don’t like being babied, but my ankle hurts, even after two days of icing and elevation. Plus, this way, I get to wrap my arm around Warner’s shoulders and fiddle with the strands of hair that curl over his ears. They hang lower today, pressed flat, no doubt by the hard hat he’s had on all morning. A light layer of dirt coats his skin, broken only by trails where sweat traced down his face and neck.

“You’re dirty.” I use my pointer finger to draw a twirl in the dust on his collarbone.

He swallows, his normally smiling mouth pulling into a grimace. That’s when I remember how sensitive he was about his grime at the mechanic’s shop.

I didn’t mean to insult him. I was only making an observation.

Just as we reach the table, I stop him from putting me down by gripping his face in my hands and capturing his mouth with mine. He groans, deep in his chest, his lips parting enough to allow me entry. My affectionate assault continues for a good minute or so before I end with quick kisses to the corners of his mouth and the tip of his nose.

“Do you know what I think about when I see you covered in dirt?”

He shakes his head, brow dipped warily.

I let all the heat in my thoughts shine from my eyes. “I imagine what you’ll look like later. When you get home. And step in the shower.” The image is clear in my mind. The water cascading over his broad shoulders, coursing down his bare skin. “How I wouldn’t mind an invite when it comes time to get you clean.”

“Fuck, Zoey,” Warner moans, sitting down on the bench with me in his lap. He buries his head in my neck, partially muffling his next words. “You can’t be saying things like that when I have to go back to work. I’m going to be sporting a partial for the rest of the day.”

Laughter bursts from my chest, and I pat his head as if he needs consoling. “Poor werewolf. I’m sorry. I promise to pretend like I don’t want to soap you up.”

He makes some adorable grumbling noises before giving me a gentle bite and pulling back.

“Besides, I’ll make for a poor shower companion with my arm wrapped in plastic.” I hold up my cast but regret the joke the moment I take in Warner’s face.

Like my brothers, he seems to think my fall is somehow his fault. Which is ridiculous. I’m the one who kept climbing up in the decades-old tree house.

But I remind myself that if any of them were injured in a freak accident, I’d also be upset, knowing they were in pain. So, I forgive their hovering.

For now.

“Burrito time. And don’t worry. Even though it broke my vegetarian heart, I got you one with beef.”

He smiles with a playful curve to his lips, joy pouring from his eyes.

I guess Warner loves burritos.

Sliding off his lap, I place the bag on the table and start pulling out all the sides.

“You know …” Warner trails off, hesitating.

“How will I be sure if I know unless you finish your sentence?” My shoulder bumps his, and he chuckles, nuzzling his nose into my hair in the animalistic way he has.

“What I was saying is, well … this isn’t the first time you’ve given me food.”

“So?” I unwrap my burrito and take a bite, chewing for a moment as I consider his comment. Then, I balk in horror, swallowing dramatically. “You’re not trying to give me those meat jars back, are you? Because that’s a done deal.”

Warner grins, and the sight eases a tight ball in my chest that formed when he hesitated.

“No. Those meat jars are mine. Don’t worry.” He bites into his burrito, chewing slowly and amping up my curiosity. Finally, he swallows. Not looking at me, he finishes his thought. “Exchanging food is part of the mating ceremony werewolves perform. So, gifting it indicates … that you want to mate.”

“You mean have sex?” I’m confused. “Like, we wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t given you the meat jars?”

“No!” Warner chokes on a laugh, but he calms down quickly, gazing down at me.

There’s a hopeful glint in his eyes, and for some reason, the sight has me tensing up.

“A mate is a partner. Mating is like our version of marriage. But it’s stronger. There’s an element of magic to it. We’re bound to our mate.”

We stare at each other—him searching, me baffled.

Mating? Marriage?

“So”—I set down my food and clutch my head in my hands, trying to get my thoughts to stop their swirling—“the meat jars were like an engagement ring? Did I propose to you?”

“No, Zoey. No. It’s not like that. Especially because you didn’t know.”

“Then, what are you saying?”

“I’m not—” he cuts himself off, then firms his mouth. “I am. I am saying something.” Warner’s focus on me intensifies. “I want you to be my mate. I want to be your mate.”

Oh God. This is it.

Commitment. The future. Life choices.

“Pine Falls is supposed to be temporary.”

Warner stares at me, face slack, as if I slapped him. Guilt rushes through me. That was the worst response that could have popped out of my mouth.

The worst, but also the truth.

He regains control over his expression, entreating me with his amber eyes. “That was before you came here, right? Before we met. Hell, Zoey. I’m gone for you. I can’t be the only one feeling this way.”

He fists his hand over his heart, and I know exactly what he means.

The affection I have for Warner is more than I’ve ever experienced toward someone outside of my family. It’s hard to believe it came on so fast. That in just a few weeks, this man twined himself around my heart. He dug his claws into it, and I’m afraid of the pain that’ll accompany prying that grip loose.

Hopefully, I won’t have to.

“You’re not the only one.” I pick at a corner of foil on my forgotten burrito. A minute ago, I was half starved. Now, the idea of food makes me nauseous.

“Then, stay. You already have the cabin, and friends, and me. All you have to do is change your plans. Please, Zoey”—Warner cups my elbows and rests his forehead against mine—“don’t end this.”

From the strain of his voice, a bystander would think I have a knife in his ribs and that I’m twisting it.

The feel of him surrounding me is tempting. But I’m not one to lose my head, even if I have lost my heart.

And when I think of staying here, with the risk of that darkness crashing over me again while I’m out in the middle of the woods, alone without the safety net of my family …

Alone like Minnie …

I’ll drown.

Panic chokes me.

I swallow. Then swallow again, trying my best to stifle the tears pressing against the backs of my eyes.

This was an experiment. Turns out, it was a failed one.

“Selling my grandma’s cabin doesn’t have to mean the end of us,” I whisper hoarsely.

His fingers briefly dig into my skin, but they relax before he hurts me. “What are you saying?”

“Denver isn’t a death sentence. Couples do long-distance all the time.”

Warner physically flinches at that suggestion, leaning away from me and shoving up from the table. Then, he starts to pace, an anxious energy buzzing off him.

“No. My kind can’t do long-distance. Going days, even weeks without seeing you … without touching you?” His fingers tangle in his hair as a frustrated growl leaks from the back of his throat. “Being separated from my mate would be torture.”

There’s that word again. Mate . It’s heavy, hanging between us. Something he expects from me. Something I don’t even understand.

I probably never will.

Maybe this is why there’s a separation between the humans and wolves of Pine Falls. We don’t follow the same rules.

And with his dismissal of my compromise, the one bit of hope I had withers.

“I don’t want to torture you.” I know what mental turmoil is, and the idea I’d be the catalyst for Warner’s brings on a wave of self-disgust. So, even as the words make my stomach churn and my throat tighten, they still find a way out. “Maybe … you should mate someone else.”

Warner stops pacing, staring at me like I’m the embodiment of a horror movie.

With the first sentence done, I hope the rest won’t cut as much. “I’m not a local. I’m not a wolf. You’re talking about forever, and I haven’t even figured out what’s happening in my life next week. You deserve better than me, Warner. Someone who knows where she belongs. Someone who will be a good mate.”

Nope. That all still hurt.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Maybe not today.” I pray that time really does heal all wounds because I am torn open and bleeding.

“Stop it!” He goes on his knees beside me, and I’m shocked to realize tendrils of black are overtaking the gold of his eyes. “Stop telling me how I’ll feel. I don’t need some wolf or a girl who grew up here. I need you .”

I want to take back everything I just said. Tell him that I need him too.

Then, a vision of the empty cabin flashes through my mind. The rooms Minnie spent her final years in, with no company but that lonely stereo. Suddenly, I can see into forever.

My future, if I stay here, is just me, slowly collapsing into myself.

My brothers are overbearing, but they also keep me sane. They’re who I need. Without their unswerving love, I’ll fade away.

And Warner deserves more than a drowning ghost.

I stand up from the picnic table, trying not to wobble. He moves with me, hands going to my waist. I don’t know if he’s steadying me or restraining me.

“Don’t go. Stay here. Choose me.” Rough growls color his pleading.

I shake my head. “I can’t. I never planned to stay.”

“Plans can change.”

“Just because they can doesn’t mean they should.”

Lunch is over. This was supposed to be a casual date. Me spending time with the guy I like.

So naive. I knew letting myself be around Warner would cause problems. He’s too lovable for me not to have fallen for him.

And I have. Fallen, that is.

My heart will break. I can already feel the cracks splintering through me.

I have to trust that with the support of my family, I’ll survive. Because I will have them. In Denver, I’ll always have them. Not like here.

Stepping over the bench with a messed-up ankle makes a smooth exit difficult. My toe catches on the wood, and I stumble.

Warner catches me, of course.

More cracks spiderweb across the surface of my heart as I soak in the warmth of his hold.

This is the part in the movies where the couple has a final kiss. A farewell. But if I let myself taste him, I’ll lose my nerve.

I’ll stay.

And then I’ll disappear.

So, I press my palms flat against his chest, applying enough pressure to make my intentions clear. He listens to the silent request, falling back a step, hands hovering, palms up, waiting for me to return to his embrace.

“Thank you for caring for me,” I say, turning to my truck.

“I don’t just care for you, Zoey.”

Coward that I am, I keep my eyes forward, wishing I could run. But then my ankle would give out, and Warner would come after me, and I might do something horrifying, like cry in his arms and beg for forgiveness and promise that I’ll stay.

So, I walk away at a normal pace.

But I don’t look back.