Gasp! The irony.
Especially given how his actions nearly got them all killed—and that brings him back to the rage part.
He’s always fought the Wolf with regards to dominance, never with regards to doing what felt good or what felt right. Weirdly, on that front, they’d always seen eye-to-eye. The Wolf had never steered him wrong when it came to caring for the others, and as long as it didn’t involve baring his neck to Jay, things were easy.
Mostly, at least—until Nix came along.
But it still came down to dominance, and that dominance came down to his Wolf figuring out that Jay was the wolf for the job.
Until then, any and all stupidity fell squarely on Rowan-person’s broad shoulders.
(What? They’re nice shoulders; Nix said so, so it must be true.)
But that night on the patio, with Withers threatening his mates…well, the Wolf had done what he always does. He lost all good sense and acted on pure animal instinct.
He charged in where only fools—that’s him, he’s the fool—fear to tread.
He protec. He attac. He fuck up.
Just thinking about it has him smacking himself in the forehead to remind himself he was a dumbass.
Is still a dumbass.
It’s not long before he has a stack of perfectly formed pancakes with maple syrup, cut fruit, and crispy bacon ready on a plate.
Nix scampers in from outside, covered only in Rowan’s and Grayson’s hickeys. It must be a bit chilly because he can see the goosebumps from twenty paces, so he sacrifices his Jay-scented tank for a good cause.
“Pancakes and bacon, Ro! My favorite. Thank you!” he praises, and Rowan wiggles his butt like he’s in his wolf form, invisible tail sharing his pride in the words. His cheeks burn, as they always do, so he hides his embarrassment by sliding the tank top over his mate’s fluffy hair and smoothing it down over his belly.
“Sit, Nix. Is Leo coming in, too?”
“Mmm, in a bit. He wanted to watch the rest of the sunrise, but I don’t think he knew there was bacon. Don’t let me eat it all.”
Rowan doesn’t tell him that he would, in fact, let him eat it all, and would be happy for the privilege. Sighing at the Wolf’s simping internal monologue, he lifts Nix onto a stool at the breakfast bar, making sure Jay’s long tank is under his juicy butt. He’s unshowered, and he does not want to deal with the Wolf attempting to set fires to this very nice kitchen.
He doesn’t say any of that out loud, only cuts pieces of pancake and puts them into his beautiful mate’s mouth while he tries not to think about how he’s fucked up again. About how it all could have gone terribly wrong as Grayson and Jay tried to save him from his own stupidity.
He’s putting the tenth bite on the fork when Nix stops his hand.
“Ro, it’s really good, but you smell sad, and my tummy can’t handle the food and your distress at the same time. Mixed signals, ya know?”
He meets Rowan’s eyes and gives a rueful smile and a tiny shrug.
“Is there something you want to talk about?”
No.
Fuck, no.
Absolutely not.
Rowan did not want to talk about it. Or rather, the Wolf thinks it’s a bad idea to bare all their failings to the father of their children.
He’ll lose faith in us.
The words echo through him, and he knows that’s his biggest worry. Of course, it’s not as simple as that, either, but worrying that his mates won’t see him as equal—that they’ll blame him for something serious…well, that’s the worst he’s ever let himself feel since Jay fucking died.
Like ever.
