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WARNER

“But my hair!”

“Put the helmet on now, or you’re walking to the bowling alley. I do not have time for this.”

“You were a lot more easygoing before Zoey,” Tanya mutters, delicately placing the spare helmet over her bouncy waves.

I ponder my sister’s words as I rev my bike to life.

Was I more easygoing before Zoey moved to town and shook up my life?

Probably. Because before she got here, I had nothing to fight for. Nothing to hurry home to.

Not to mention, I had no reason to be on edge about my mom being exiled. I offered to help Roderick work out the details, but he flat-out refused.

Sometimes, being the pack leader is a shit job.

He did tell me she won’t be barred from communicating with us over the phone. That is, if any of us wants to talk to her. I expect Tanya will and possibly Isaac, but despite Roderick’s stoic expression, I could tell how devastated he was that our mother pushed us to do this.

I, of course, am furious with her, and I know it’ll be a long time before I’m in the right headspace to have any kind of conversation with her.

So, by tomorrow morning, Pine Falls will be down one wolf.

The bowling alley isn’t far, but every hint of space that’s put between me and Zoey has my wolf growing anxious.

Tonight was rough on my protective instincts.

Still, the knowledge that I have my woman’s clothes bundled in my saddlebag gives me comfort. Assures me that she’ll be waiting for me when I get back.

When we pull into the cracked parking lot of the aptly named 12 Lanes, I can hear the crack of heavy balls against pins, mixed with laughter, emanating from inside the building. Tanya dismounts and immediately rips off the helmet, as if the thing was burning her the entire ride. I expect her to toss the headwear at me, then race inside.

Instead, she clutches the helmet against her chest, ignoring my outstretched hand.

“Is Mom really getting exiled?” My take-no-shit sister looks suddenly vulnerable.

I fight a grimace and nod. “You understand why, right?”

“Yeah.” The word comes out on a sigh. “I can’t believe she won’t let it go. I mean, I can hold a grudge, believe me. I still haven’t gotten over the fact that Isaac cut the hair off all my Barbies when we were eight. But I’d get over it in a second if the other option meant giving up all of you.”

“She’s not giving up on you. Mom’s just … going away for a little while.”

My sister snorts and finally lets the helmet go, handing it back to me before she turns toward the building.

I feel guilty and then angry because I shouldn’t have to feel this way. But I can’t help thinking I’m the reason we’re losing our mom.

Then, an image of Zoey flashes in my mind. Her naked body as she crawled under my covers just a little bit ago. Her pale skin, covered in bruises and stitched cuts from her fall. And my heart hardens toward my mother.

“Text me,” I call out to my retreating sister, and she turns back to glance at me. “When you’re done and need a ride home, just let me know.”

She waves away my offer. “One of my friends will give me a lift.”

But before she can retreat again, I’m off my bike, crossing the worn blacktop and sweeping her up into a bear hug. “Nah, sis,” I murmur against her thick brown hair. “You let me know when, and I’ll be here for you.”

“Pushy much?” The words are dismissive, but her tone is full of the same vulnerability from a moment ago.

Then, her arms wrap around my waist, and we stand still, hugging each other.

After a minute passes, Tanya shoves me away, straightening her spine. “Stop being so clingy. People are going to think I need babying.” She glares, but there’s a glistening at the edge of her lashes.

I give her my goofiest smile in return. “You kidding? Everyone knows I’m the baby in the family.”

She rolls her eyes, even as her lips fight to smile. “Get out of here. I’ll text you when I need a ride home.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Begone, lowly jester!” She waves again before skipping toward the lit-up entrance of the bowling alley.

I watch her until she’s out of sight, then climb back on my bike.

When I get back to my apartment, I take the stairs two at a time, anxious to see Zoey again. I wonder if she’s fallen asleep in my bed. I won’t wake her if she has, no matter how much I want to talk to her. To hear her say she loves me again.

But there’s time for that. If she’s asleep, I’ll curl my body around hers and keep her warm.

When I enter my bedroom, I find Zoey propped up on my pillows, a crochet project in her lap. She has the blankets pulled up over her chest. Or at least, it looks like they started that way. At this moment, one edge sags enough that I catch a hint of her rosy nipple.

I get the urge to crawl on my knees to her, then bury my face in the valley of her breasts to breathe in her sweet, earthy scent and hear the delicate pounding of a heart she claims beats for me.

“Do you think your family will forgive me for what I’ve done to you all?”

Her question shocks me enough to leave off staring at the hint of her nakedness and search her eyes. “What you’ve done?”

“I tore open old wounds, and now, you’re all suffering.”

Apparently, my sister isn’t the only one feeling vulnerable after this evening’s confrontation. I cross the room, sit on the edge of the bed, just beside Zoey, and reach out to stroke her exposed shoulders.

“That’s not on you. You didn’t know about that drama. And it’s not our drama.”

Zoey goes to open her mouth, and I can tell she still plans on shouldering the blame. The thought pisses me off, and I give a definitive shake of my head.

“No. Don’t play the martyr. You talk about opening wounds? It’s been decades . A normal person would’ve let the old hurts heal. My mom is the one who’s been tearing things open. She’s at fault, and she’s too stubborn to admit it. No one in my family will blame you. We know who hurt who. And we know who is innocent in all of this.”

“If I had never come?—”

“Please, Zoey.” Now, my hands curl, clasping her, holding her in place. “Please don’t ever think life would be better if you hadn’t come here. You don’t know what it was like before.”

One of her eyebrows curves up. “You make it sound like you were living in hell.”

“Not hell.” I run my nose through her hair, filling my lungs with the scent that tells me she is meant to be mine. “More like purgatory. I was existing. Sitting in a waiting room. Lingering in a line. Restless, without a direction.”

“I’m not that much, Warner. You can’t think I mean that much.” Her voice cracks.

“You do though. This might sound selfish, but I’ve always wanted someone. Someone who needed me and who I needed. I can live on my own, exist on my own, but I don’t like it. You’re my someone, Zoey. I need you.”

She stares into my eyes, not shying away from the intensity in my gaze. “I came to Pine Falls because I felt smothered by my brothers’ love.”

I try not to wince, imagining my desperate declaration reminds her of their rabid displays of affection.

“Then, I came here and learned about my grandmother. After that, I worried that without their love, I’d curl into myself. That I’d fade into some kind of ghost person.”

My mouth is open to deny it, but she shakes her head. I keep quiet, letting her finish.

“You don’t smother me. Your love isn’t a weight I have to fight off to keep from crushing me. Your love is like …” She trails off, brow wrinkled in thought. “Your love is a strong hand on a ladder!” Zoey smiles, huge and bright, happy with the comparison.

“What’s that mean exactly?” I ask, not without a trace of humor.

“You hold me steady, but you still let me climb to whatever height I’m trying to reach,” she explains, as if it’s the clearest thing in the world.

And once she says it, it is.

Emotions crash through me, threatening to drown my head and my heart. Needing a brief reprieve from the onslaught, I drop my hands between us and finger the craft in her lap.

“What are you working on?”

“I’m crocheting you an apology hat, to go with your scarf.”

Damn, she won’t let up.

In a fit of self-preservation, I grasp for a joke. “You seem hell-bent on me keeping my head covered. Wear a helmet , you say. I’m making you a hat , you say.” I put on a high-pitched voice, making a complete mockery of her normal smooth, sultry tone.

Zoey laughs. “You caught me. I’m obsessed with keeping this head safe and warm.” She sets her project to the side and cups my cheeks with her hands. The hard plaster of the cast is rough against my skin, just as the bare palm of her other hand is soft. She shifts, rising on her knees so she can press a kiss to the center of my forehead. “Mainly because I love the brain that’s rattling around in it.”

The words dig into my heart, ruthless, loving claws. With her movement, the blankets fall away, and I’m confronted with her bare chest and stomach and the teasing triangle of curls at the center of her. The sight has me groaning.

Even though I want to crush her to my chest, I’m wary of her battered body. Instead, I circle my arms around her in a gentle embrace, lowering her to the bed. She spreads out beneath me, muscles relaxed, and gifts me with a gorgeous smile.

I hunger for her mouth and take it with the passion I want to show the rest of her. For now though, I keep my fervor to the meeting of our lips.

Zoey gasps and moans, her fingers raking down the front of my shirt, fumbling with buttons until she has the fabric parted and can get at my skin. Her nails dig into me, as if she plans to scratch and tear until I’m covered in her marks.

“Do it. Be rough with me,” I beg against her mouth.

She doesn’t hesitate. Her hands dive under my shirt, her fingers clutch my back, and I groan at the delicious bite of her nails along my spine. My love doesn’t break skin, but I long for a mirror so I can admire what must be a nice set of red marks scored into me.

Then, she has my belt in her grasp, undoing the buckle. Next thing I know, my pants are unzipped and being shoved down and that soft grasp is gripping my hard length.

I pry my lips from hers, rising up enough to tell her something like …

We don’t have to.

You’re hurt.

But she’s faster than I am.

“I love you.” Zoey doesn’t whisper or let the words out on a light gasp. She declares them with utter and complete confidence. “Do you love me?”

“More than anything,” I growl in response.

She nods, a confident smile plumping her cheeks as her uninjured leg slings around my waist. A very demanding heel presses into one of my ass cheeks, urging me forward.

“Are you going to show me how much?”

The crown of me presses against her slickness, and my eyes threaten to roll back in my head. But that would mean I’d have to stop staring down at her, and I can’t give up this view.

“You’re perfect.”

A red flush seeps into her cheeks, but she doesn’t deny my words.

“For you.”

Yes. Both my human half and wolf half are in complete agreement, howling together in triumph.

“For me.”