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I didn’t feel anything. It didn’t make sense.

Couldn’t be real. My parents were alive; they were just too hurt to come and see me.

I demanded to see them. I had to. I knew they were alive.

I clung onto my denial with everything I had.

When Gran showed up with Jace, their eyes were red and wet, faces blotchy from crying.

Gran said, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. They’re gone, both of them.

How could this have happened? Why my family? Why not someone else’s?

I should have been more careful. This was all my fault. If I’d just waited, if I’d insisted we stay home, if I had done anything differently that night, they would still be here.

By the time I finish speaking, tears soak my cheeks.

I’ve never been able to tell this story without crying, so I stopped telling it.

I’ve been torn open all over again, and I don’t know how to put myself back together.

The dark despair of that horrible night fastens its hooks in me and tugs, dragging me down.

Then Anders’s arms are around me, holding me to his chest. His big, warm hands run up and down my back. My face is mashed against his shoulder, and he’s all I can feel and touch and smell. He kisses my hair, then the shell of my ear, and whispers, “It wasn’t your fault, Jamie. It wasn’t.”

I break apart. For the first time in so many years, I break down in gut-wrenching sobs that leave me utterly defenseless. All I can do is cling to him as he strokes my back and whispers sweet words I don’t deserve.

When there are no more tears left for me to cry, I lie against his wet chest, too drained to move. I hate that Anders had to see me like this. “Sorry,” I croak. “I’ll get you a new shirt.”

He sits up, still holding me close. “Let’s bathe. I’ll get the water running.”

Anders goes into the bathroom and turns on the faucet in the tub. To keep myself busy, I eat the rest of the steak, and the plate is clean when Anders returns. “Come on. The water isn’t too hot.”

I only grunt, feeling like my limbs are made of gelatin as he helps me stand up. In the bathroom, I go to peel off his shirt, but Anders bats my hands away. He strips me of my shirt, tossing it over the towel rack, then unbuttons my jeans. When I step out of them, Anders pulls down my underwear.

“Your turn.” I help him undress, cheeks warming as I throw his snotty, tear-soaked shirt on the ground. “We’ll have to burn that.”

“Why?” He snorts. “Just wash it. Tears and snot are hardly the worst thing I’ve had on me.”

Once Anders is naked, I dip my toe in the water.

It’s warm but not scalding. He gets in first, then urges me to join him.

We sink into the water together, my back to his chest. The warm water eases all the aches and pains of the day, on the outside anyway.

But it’s Anders’s powerful body behind me and his tender touch as he rubs a soapy cloth over my skin that helps heal all the cracks in my heart.

“Thanks for not running for the hills.” I give his hand a squeeze.

I can practically see his bewildered expression. “Running from what?”

“Me. Most of the guys I’ve dated in the past didn’t want to stick around when I get… like I was today. Sad. Closed off. I don’t blame them.”

“Those men you dated before,” Anders says with a growly undercurrent in his voice, “are they still alive?”

Snorting, I pinch his thigh. “Stop it. Besides, they’re ancient history.”

Grumbling, Anders shifts behind me. His soft cock rubs along the cleft of my buttocks. I’m way too drained for sex; otherwise, I’d love to take advantage of our nakedness. But just sitting like this, naked and enjoying each other’s company, is nice. Really nice.

“I don’t like the idea of anyone mistreating you.”

Smiling, I caress his arm. “They weren’t bad. I pushed people away to keep myself safe. You’re the only guy who pushed back and fought for me.” My voice wavers. “Thank you.”

Anders sticks out his chest with a pleased rumble. “If there’s anything I am good at, it is fighting. I will always fight for you, Jamie.”

I lift his hand and kiss his fingers to give myself time for the lump in my throat to go away. Finally, I say, “You must have some crappy relationships under your belt too. Spill it.”

“Only one.”

Now I’m curious.

I shift between his thighs so I can get a better look at him. “Who?” I play with his wet, curly chest hair while he composes a reply.

“A farmer from my village.”

Anders combs wet fingers through my hair. His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking under the skin. “You really liked him, huh?”

“Aye, that I did. He was the first lad I was sweet on. My first kiss in the tundra’s hot springs.

His name was Jorik. He noticed me rather than Wulfric.

Everyone wanted Wulfric, clamored to be his chosen mate the moment he came of age to be mated.

He rejected all of them, of course. Wanted to wait for his fated mate to come along.

I thought Jorik was impervious to Wulfric’s Alpha status.

Had no idea he’d been playing the pair of us.

Not until I found him in the stables with Wulfric. ”

“Did Wulfric know you liked him?”

“Of course he did. We were young and foolish and enjoyed being cruel to each other. In the end, Jorik left us both and rode out of the village with his true fated mate.”

Anders’s tone is casual, but I hate that he was used like that and hurt by his brother. “Sorry that happened to you.”

“I was a fool to think anyone would care for me when they could have Alpha Wulfric. It’s what I deserved.”

The water ripples in the bath as I turn around. “Don’t.” I lace my fingers at the back of his neck. “You may not be an Alpha, not by birth. But you’re my Alpha.”

Anders’s breath catches. “Say it again?” His voice is soft, plaintive.

Leaning in, I brush the words against his lips. “My Alpha.”

Anders lunges in for a kiss that leaves me breathless, and before my eyes, the gruff and guarded man I’ve come to know melts against me with each tender kiss.

“Yours,” he whispers. “Yours, always.”