Page 51

51

ZOEY

My knocking sounds angry.

Is there a way to knock urgently that doesn’t sound like you’re pissed off?

Doesn’t matter. Warner will find out I’m not angry when he gets the hell out of his apartment and comes to talk to me.

Okay, I might be a little angry. But not at my werewolf. I’m angry at myself.

How could I have walked away? What was I thinking, telling Warner to go find someone else? The idea of him dating another woman, kissing another woman, makes me want to break down this door. Not that I think he’s upstairs with some sexy werewolf lady. Hopefully, he would need more than half a day to move on.

But there’s no answer.

I step back, staring up at one of the windows of his apartment.

“Warner! Your bike is parked in the alley, so I know you’re here!” Unless he walked somewhere? “You are here, right?”

Am I yelling at the side of a building for no reason?

Who gives a fuck?

My fist rises to pound again when a voice stops me.

“I’m here.”

I turn, and there he is, stepping around the corner of the building, staring at me with wide eyes. His leather vest sits on top of a white T-shirt. My werewolf biker.

At least, I hope he’s still mine.

“Did you come down the other stairs just to pull some sneaky shit on me?” I cross my arms and affect a glare.

His eyes trace over me. “No. I was in the shop.”

“Hmph,” I mumble as I stare at him.

He’s so perfect. I mean, not perfect. One of his eyes opens a little wider than the other, there’s a chip on his left canine, and his hair is disheveled in a way that was clearly not the product of styling gel. Plus, he tends to make jokes in serious situations, and he helps people to the point that he overextends himself, and he tried to push a lifetime commitment on me after only a handful of weeks.

So, he’s not perfect.

He’s just perfect for me .

“Are you knocking on my door for a reason?” Warner’s smile comes hesitantly.

I hate it. Hate that he’s holding himself back. That first night, the biker guy didn’t know me, but he still walked right up to my side, multiple times, insinuating himself in my life when I was still trying to figure my life out.

I want that unwarranted confidence back. So badly that I decide to skip a few steps.

“I need to apologize, but can I kiss you first?”

Warner steps toward me, his eyes now hot. “You never have to ask.”

I pounce on him. Or at least, I try to pounce. Unfortunately, my sore ankle has me stumbling face-first into his chest, and I gasp in pain as I try to use the hand with my broken wrist to grasp his shirt before I slide down to the pavement.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Warner scolds, quick to grip me under my armpits in a not-very-romantic hold. He sets me on my good leg and wraps an arm around my waist to support some of my weight.

“That was supposed to be a much sexier move. I was envisioning jumping into your arms and wrapping my legs around you.”

“That sounds appealing in every way possible. But let’s put that on hold until you get some more healing under your belt.” Warner grins down at me, smoothing stray hairs away from my face.

“I was wrong,” I proclaim.

Before he can respond, I use my good hand to clutch the back of his neck and bring his face down to mine in a searing kiss.

At the taste of him, the feel of his sturdy body against mine, my proclamation is proven fact. How could I have thought for a second to give this up? To give him up?

I love my family, but they’re a sure thing. I realize that now. I could move to China, and my brothers would come by plane or boat or teleportation machine to force their overbearing love on me.

Warner doesn’t have to follow me. And I shouldn’t ask him to. What Warner needs is for someone to fight for him. To choose him.

To love him.

I cup his face, pulling myself away more than I’m pushing him back. I could kiss him until the next apocalyptic event ravaged the earth. And then I’d only pause for a moment to check if there were any zombies nearby before returning to his tempting mouth.

But I hurt him, and he deserves another Gunner apology.

This seems to be a habit for me. One I plan on breaking by making this man as happy as possible.

“I’m sorry, Warner.”

“Zoey—” He goes to interrupt me, but I cover his mouth with my hand, staring intently up at him.

“Let me say this?” After waiting for his nod, I continue, “You asked me to be your mate. To be with you forever. That’s heavy, and it scared me. I don’t think I was wrong to be nervous about that.”

His eyes get sad, and I push on.

“I’m not always … healthy.”

Hell, I didn’t think it would be this hard to say. There’s an urge to use metaphors or skirt around the topic. But I want the word out there. It needs to be said. I need to say it.

“For the last few years”—tears are in my throat, but I swallow them down—“I’ve battled depression.”

Warner’s entire body tenses. Then, treating me as if I were formed from spun glass, my werewolf slowly gathers me into a hug that presses the entire length of my body against his. With my head tucked under his chin, a surge of comfort and confidence overcome me, and talking about it becomes easier.

“It hit me for the first time in college. I was away from my family, and I don’t know if that triggered it or what, but things got bad. When my brothers didn’t hear from me for a while, they got worried and made a surprise visit. I was practically comatose. They brought me back to Denver, convinced me to transfer schools and talk to a professional. That helped. So did medication.” I draw in a deep, bracing breath. “But I’m not cured because there’s no permanent fix. And I worry all the time that I’ll have a bad episode like I did then and I won’t be able to pull myself out of it.”

“You want to be in Denver because of your brothers. Because they’d recognize it. They would know how to help you.” Warner doesn’t ask. He just realizes the truth.

I press my face against his chest. “I came to Pine Falls to test out living without my family around me all the time. Their love is a gift, but sometimes, I felt suffocated by it. I mean, you’ve met my brothers. You know what I’m saying, right?”

The brush of his chin against the top of my head tells me he’s nodding.

“I didn’t come here to add more love to my plate.” Sucking in a deep breath, I pull back to meet Warner’s eyes, making sure he’s listening. “But you didn’t care about my plans, did you? You infuriating werewolf.” I’m growling through my smile. “You made me fall for you. Damn it, Warner. I love you.”

Hope sparks in his gaze, but he holds still. He needs more, and I plan on giving it to him.

“Your love doesn’t smother me because you listen to me. You’re this wildly powerful supernatural creature, but I’ve never felt crushed by you.” My thumb traces his bottom lip. “But when you said mate , I panicked. I’m scared. Scared that I’ll make plans for the future and they’ll come crashing down if I get sick again.”

Pain creases the corners of Warner’s eyes as he cups my face.

I stare up at him with determination. With love. “But I realized something.” I wrap my fingers around his wrists, holding him to me. “I’m stronger now. And smarter. What happened in college was bad because I hadn’t expected it. Couldn’t plan for it. But now, I know how to take care of myself.” My ankle smarts as I rise up on my tiptoes to brush a soft kiss against his lips. “And I know if I start drowning again, you’ll be the one to see it. And I trust you to help me keep my head above water.”

“Always, Zoey. Always.” He growls the words, eyes fierce.

The sight warms every bit of me, even as it renews my guilt for how I treated him.

“I’m so sorry for doubting you. For rejecting your affection. For saying that I’d leave you?—”

“You should’ve left. You’ll do it anyway, so why not go now?”

The harsh comment makes me flinch, and I realize that Warner and I aren’t alone.

We have an audience of wolves.