Page 6

Yelena

The cottage is too quiet. I sit in my favorite chair and try to read my book, but my heart isn’t in it. I have the whole cottage to myself for a change and I know I should take advantage of the peace and quiet, but my mind is consumed with replaying the night of the Bonfire over and over again.

Austin’s actions have left me feeling hurt, humiliated, and bewildered.

I still can’t believe he banished Jimmy from the party for simply dancing with me.

It’s all so confusing. It was a harmless dance at a pack event.

There was no need for him to make a scene and assert his dominance in that way.

Singling me out in front of everyone…my cheeks burn just thinking about it.

As an Alpha, I know Austin is naturally prone to be more protective and possessive, especially over their mates or intended-mates, but Austin has never made me feel like I can’t even interact with my pack.

If anything, he goes out of his way to ignore me and leaves me to my own devices far too often.

I want to talk to him about it. Maybe use this incident to break the ice between us. Yet, when I woke up the morning after the Bonfire, it was to an empty house and a simple text.

Gone on business with Father. Be back later this week.

I’ve heard nothing since.

As far as texts between couples go, it’s laughably brief.

I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he sent the same thing to his barber or the captain of his guard.

Hurt and confusion swirl inside me and suddenly, the silence in the cottage feels stifling, pressing down on me like a weight I can’t shake off.

I set my book down with a frustrated sigh and rub my exhausted eyes. Until he gets back, there will be no fixing this.

Rising from my chair, I decide to take a walk outside to clear my head. The fresh air and company of my packmates might do me good. Anything is better than just sitting in my cottage and replaying that night in my head, over and over again.

The wind brushes against my skin, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and pine. It’s comforting.

Hannah waves at me from the porch of the laundry center and I head her way.

“Yelena,” she beams, jumping off the step to run and give me a hug. I smile at her and hug the young girl back.

“Hannah! How are you today, sweet girl?” I ask.

She twirls in place, and I notice she has an enormous candy in her hand.

“Good. Austin gave me a lollipop!”

My smile is brittle, and I take a deep breath before crouching down to her level. “When did Austin give you that?” I ask carefully.

She twirls again, laughing as her skirts fly out in a bell shape.

“This morning! He said he got it for me on his trip!”

My heart starts to pound and I pull out my phone to check my texts, hoping that Austin had sent me a note telling me he was home.

Nothing.

“How kind of him,” I smile at Hannah, “If he’s home from his trip now, I better go find him!”

Hannah nods happily and returns to playing on the porch, her large lollipop in hand.

My hands are shaking as I make my way slowly across the courtyard toward our cottage. I’m at a breaking point. Normally, Austin being gone is just part of the rhythm of our daily life, but this time I feel it more intensely.

I’ve put my own feelings on the back burner for years now in an effort to cater to him. But as much as I’ve tried, I can’t seem to brush these feelings of anger, humiliation, and hurt away as easily as I have in the past.

If I’m being truly honest with myself, I’m furious with Austin and fed up with his behavior.

I’ve tried everything I can think of to convince myself to let it go and I can’t.

It’s not fair, the way Austin ignores me for days at a time, openly avoids interacting with me whenever we’re in public, and is generally hostile.

But to become angry with me because one of our packmates spoke to me?

To skate by with only the most basic level of consideration?

This has to stop.

“I just need to tell him how I feel, clear the air,” I mutter to myself as I stomp across my porch and wrench open the door. “This is my pack too, and I deserve to be able to talk to whomever I want.”

Austin’s boots are sitting just inside the door and the sight of them makes me relieved and frustrated.

I am so glad he’s home. No matter how frustrated I might be, my wolf lights up when he’s around.

I crave his presence in a way that can only be explained through our Fated bond.

Being separated from him for too long is a struggle.

Yet, being close to him is often painful too .

He’s back. Here we go.

“Austin?” I call out, making my way through the living room. He doesn’t answer, but I don’t expect him to. There’s water running in the kitchen, so I make my way there. Confrontation makes me nervous under ideal circumstances, and this is far from ideal.

Just say your piece. It will be okay . I try to steel myself, but when I step into the kitchen, I’m distracted by the sight of him.

He’s standing by the sink, his back to me.

Even though I’m frustrated with him, his presence makes my heart skip a beat.

He’s so ruggedly handsome. His short black hair is longer than normal, and I wish I could run my hands through it.

My fingers itch to touch him, to massage away the tension I can see in his broad shoulders.

As wolf shifters, we’re tactile creatures.

Austin is my intended-mate, and under normal circumstances, I would be able to touch him often.

Our circumstances are far from normal and even though I crave him, I know I can’t indulge those desires.

He would never allow it. His role in our pack requires him to be strong for everyone else all the time, and he does it without complaint.

It’s one of the things I adore most about him.

He gives himself so willingly to our pack.

I know, when the time arrives, he will be an excellent Alpha.

“Welcome home,” I call out softly. “I’m glad you’re back.” I take a hesitant step forward, hoping for some connection, some sign that he might be glad to see me too.

He visibly stiffens at the sound of my voice. My heart sinks but I try to force myself to stay positive.

When he finally turns around, I’m shocked by how tired he looks.

There are purple bags under his eyes and a heaviness about him that tugs at my heartstrings.

The sight of his broad shoulders slumped in exhaustion makes my anger start to waver and my empathy hits me.

As much as I want—and need—answers for the way he treated me, the need to comfort him in his time of need is stronger.

If he would welcome it, I would hold him, but I know better than to suggest it.

“Thanks,” he says, finally, his voice heavy with fatigue.

The silence between us feels awkward, and it makes me sad. I wish I knew what to say to make him feel better or to help him understand that I want to help.

Moon Goddess, give me the right words to help him. I pray silently.

“Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll cook you dinner. Give you a chance to relax a little bit,” I offer gently, my voice almost pleading.

He looks up but shakes his head at me. “No. That’s not necessary.”

He stalks out of the kitchen toward his room and bathroom without another word, leaving me feeling even more confused. I bite my lip, watching him go, my heart aching with the distance between us.

When I hear the water turn on for his shower, I immediately get to work.

Austin may have said that making food wasn’t necessary, but I want to ease some of his burden, so I pull out some pasta, salmon, and vegetables, and start cooking.

My hands work on autopilot as I prepare the food, but my mind lingers on Austin.

The water runs in the shower for almost thirty minutes and the insidious little voice in my head asks if it’s because Austin is purposefully trying to avoid me. Again . Even though the thought stings, I push it aside and try to focus on the task at hand.

Carefully, I dish him up a plate and make my way down the hallway toward his room. I put an ear to the door and hear the water still running, so I carefully creep inside and place the plate on his desk. My heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of hope and nervousness.

I hope this gesture will make him smile and put him in a good mood so we can discuss my concerns later.

But, rather than wait to see his reaction, I decided to give him space.

I quietly creep back out and shut the door behind me, pausing for a moment to wish things were different.

I make my way back to my room and pick up my book to try and distract myself from the ache in my chest.

*** The sun almost blinds me as I sit up, squinting at my open curtains.

It’s early—too early to be awake, but I’ve never been the kind of person who can go back to sleep after I’ve been woken up.

Instead, I swing my legs out of bed and make my way out to the kitchen. Might as well get breakfast going.

The cottage is quiet, and I am careful not to make too much noise as I prepare our meal. With how tired Austin looked last night, I imagine he could do with a hearty breakfast. I smile to myself and imagine his surprise when he comes out of his room and sees all his favorites this morning.

I shuffle over to the coffee maker but stop short when I see a familiar plate on the counter. Empty.

I hurry over to grab it, noting the sauce stains and the little bit of vegetables still stuck to it. Austin ate the dinner I made!

A small spark of joy makes its way into my heart as I hold the plate. I don’t want to overthink this, but it feels like a tiny step forward.

Maybe what Callie always says is true. The way to a male’s heart is through his stomach.

If that’s the case, I will cook for him as much as possible. Today could be the start of something new for us.

I crack eggs for the omelets and pop a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster before rummaging through the fridge.

It feels good to have a goal this morning, and I throw myself into my cooking.

Of all the different versions of Austin that I get to see, one of my favorites is in the early morning when he stumbles down the hallway in just his sweats, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Sometimes, if I’m lucky, he forgets the tension between us for a brief second, and I get a sleepy smile or a good morning greeting.

Every once in a while, we get to share a companionable silence over our morning cups of coffee, each lost to our own thoughts.

I live for those moments. They make me feel like there’s hope that our relationship will grow.

The toaster pops, and I hurry to butter both sides of the bread, just the way he likes it. The omelet slides easily from the pan to the plate, and I cut some tomatoes for garnish.

Perfect.

I’m practically bouncing with excitement for him to come and see what I’ve made him. I pour myself a cup of coffee and get started on loading the dishes in the dishwasher.

As I load the last cup, I look out the kitchen window and freeze, my heart dropping.

Austin’s motorcycle is missing from his normal parking spot. Drying my hands, I hurry over to the table by the front door.

His boots are gone too.

He must have left at the crack of dawn.

The thought dashes my mood to pieces, and I trudge back to the kitchen. Austin’s perfect plate is still waiting on the kitchen table.

I sit down heavily and sip at my coffee as I try to fight back tears.

At least he ate my dinner last night. That has to mean something. Right?