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"Even at less than perfect, it's a damned sight better than most."
No answer. Better than most wasn't good enough. Clay had to be the best.
I continued, "We've suspected for a while that you've hit the limits of rehabilitation. Now we need to keep working on rerouting those neural pathways, teaching you to favor the left, which in most cases you do."
"Not tonight."
"Because you were surprised, so we need to work on your reactions when you're caught off guard. Jeremy can help--no one's better at sneaking up. And if we can't break you of the habit, you might be better to lead with your right and follow up with your left rather than pull back."
"Yeah." His shoulders relaxed. "That's an idea." He glanced at me. "I don't mean to brood."
"You're frustrated. As the queen of fretting, I'm certainly not going to complain."
He nodded, and I knew we were both thinking about the same thing: the latest object of my fretting, my ascension to Alphahood... yet another reason for Clay to worry about his bad arm.
BALANCE
WE WENT THROUGH a burger drive-through. That served as appetizers, gone before we reached the hotel where we ordered last-minute room service--a couple of decent Alaskan crab sandwiches and a big bowl of surprisingly good seafood chowder.
As Clay finished, he stretched out beside me on the bed. "So, are we going to finish our conversation about you becoming Alpha?"
"I thought we did."
"No, we stopped short of getting to the part where you tell me what's really bothering you. I've been putting together the pieces. First, you were eager for me to get home and discuss it, so whatever's bugging you must have something to do with me. But even after our talk, you're still worried."
I scraped the bottom of my bowl.
He shifted closer. "You're afraid that when you become Alpha, things between us will change."
Bull's-eye on the first shot. So why did my throat clench when I tried to agree? Why did my brain fill with dozens of other things to say, ways to deflect, to tease, to make light?
I swallowed and forced the words out. "I'm happy."
"Hard to say, isn't it?" He shifted onto his side, his voice lowering.
"No, I... Obviously I'm happy. You know that."
"Feeling happy, acting happy, letting me know in little ways that you are happy? That's easy. But saying the words? It's like saying you miss me. An admission of complacency. After what I did, you don't feel you should be truly happy with me. At least you shouldn't admit it, not to me."
I tried to look at him, but my neck muscles still wouldn't obey, so I stared into my bowl. "I know you didn't mean to bite me. Not like that--without my permission." He'd thought Jeremy was going to separate us and he'd panicked.
"I put you through hell and then I only made it worse, all the mistakes I made trying to get you back."
"I've forgiven you."
"Forgive, yes. Understand, yes. Forget, no."
My stomach clenched. "I want to forget. I want to get past it. Completely past it."
"You can't. You won't. Maybe you shouldn't. But we're making little steps. Saying you love me. Saying you want to be with me. Saying you trust me. And now saying you miss me. The next big hurdle is saying you like your life the way it is."
"I love my life." I met his gaze.
"And you're afraid that'll change if you become Alpha. More specifically, you're afraid we'll change." He shifted closer. "I spent ten years dreaming of getting us here--together, happy, kids--certain I'd fucked up too badly to even hope. If I honestly thought you becoming Alpha would ruin it, don't you think I'd kick up a fuss? Hell, I'd become Alpha myself if I had to."
I nodded.
"But you're still worried."
