Page 72 of The Wolves of Forest Grove

If they changed, she would blame herself for the rest of her life, but she would have her best friends beside her.

If they didn’t, Ryland would have their memories of that night and any lingering suspicion erased from their minds.

And if he did that, I knew it in my bones that Allie would distance herself from her friends.

She would leave them in a heartbeat if it meant saving this from ever happening again. It was just who she was.

Damned if they do. Damned if they don’t.

I wished I could make it all go away.

I’d give just about anything to see her smile again.

I rose and stretched, eyeing the flashing red numbers on the clock across the room.

It was three in the afternoon, but with the bleak sky and chill air outside, it could have been closer to dusk.

Shrugging, I strode to the minifridge and yanked out a beer, popping the cap off with my thumb before taking a long pull.

The bike sat in the middle of the shop. A yellow Yamaha 250 that’d seen better days. I’d gotten it for cheap since it needed some major work done. The guy practically gave it to me.

It was the perfect size for her.

The repairs had taken me the better part of the week, but today was the day I was going to finish it. Just a few more small fixes and a tune up and she’d be good to ride.

If Allie wanted it.

I hoped she’d want it.

That she’d ride with me and find the freedom she craved in rush of wind sailing over her body—in the metal beast propelling her forward. Onward.

Sighing, I set my beer down and got back to work, resigning myself to the possibility that she might not want it.

She might be pissed at me, though.

She’d almost chewed my head off when I paid for her driver’s test. And she’d flat out told me she didn’t ride anymore.

But I got the feeling it wasn’t because she didn’t want to. It was because she couldn’t. I wanted to show her that she could.

She was the strongest person I’d ever met, and her wolf had the will to match that strength. It’d damn near gotten her killed, that strength.

It still might.

Good thing Ry’s been busy dealing with shit at camp.

Now that he’d taken out the eastern alpha and claimed the eastern pack for himself, there was a lot to be dealt with.

Our pack was now the largest in the western United States, and expanding pack camp to accommodate the new members was going to be a big job.

Not to mention tracking down and wrangling the ones who didn’t want to bow to a new alpha.

Once everything calmed down, which would be sooner than I liked, there was no doubt in my mind Ryland would want to teach Allie a lesson. Force her to do his bidding.

She’s strong—the strongest wolf in his pack. Ryland would want to use her to his advantage.

I should’ve never let this fucking happen.

My gut twisted and I grunted, cutting my thumb on a sharp edge of rusting metal.

“Shit,” I cursed, blood smearing onto the rear shock. I grabbed the oil stained rag from the floor to wipe it off.

“Want a hand?”

I whipped my head around, earning a crick in my neck and damn good case of whiplash. “Allie?” I grunted, rubbing out the sting. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have work?”

She shrugged. “Not today. It’s Sunday.”

Was it really?

“So,” she continued, drawing out the word as she brushed her long turquoise hair back from her face, huffing. “You want help or not?”

I smirked, glancing between her and the bike, mouth going dry. “Sure.”

“A Yamaha 250,” she mused, coming to lower herself into a squat next to the bike, inspecting the work I’d already done, checking its stability. “It’s a solid bike.”

A rut formed between her brows and her lips pursed, then as quickly as the pinched expression came, it vanished, replaced with a wan look and a long sigh.

“I had one like this once.” She curled her hand around the left handlebar as if remembering how her hand had curled around hers. “I know my way around this model really well.”

A grin pulled at the edges of my mouth. “Good,” I said and passed her the wrench. “Let’s get to work then. She just needs a tune up and a new mount kit and she’ll be done.”

“The shocks need adjusting,” she said with a squint at the rear as she pressed forcefully on the seat, testing their give.

A dark shadow crossed her face and I couldn’t help asking. “You want to talk about it?”

Her jaw tightened and her gray eyes dampened as tears tried to gather. She rolled her shoulders back. “No. Not really. No point, anyway. I just…want to keep moving. I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t.”

Something twisted in my gut. I lifted the half drank beer from the floor by my knee and passed it to her. “Okay,” I relented. “No talking.”

The tiniest smile pulled at her lips and she took the beer from me, our fingers brushing.

I shivered, doing my best not to let my emotions seep out. She didn’t need to know that the way her jeans hugged her thighs and her hair brushed over her long neck, the tips of the strands kissing her collarbone, made me wild with need.

We hadn’t talked about the kiss since it happened, but every time we were in the same room, the energy was charged with all the things we didn’t say. Didn’t do…but wanted to.

Or at least, I wanted to.

I craved her like the worst sort of addiction. Like she was air and I was suffocating six feet under.

I’d been happy there, once, half-dead and content to suffocate for an eternity.

Now I found myself clawing toward the surface. Hungry for the taste of air again. For freedom.

Because of her.

“What are you staring at?” Allie asked, a strange smirk on her lips, one eyebrow raised.

“Nothing,” I coughed and went back to work. “You, uh, had a wasp on you. Fucker flew away, though. You’re good.”

Allie wasn’t buying it. An amused glint in her gaze told me she knew exactly what I was doing but let the lie slide. “Got any more of these?” she asked, shaking the empty bottle above her head.

“Plenty.”