He takes a step toward me, regret flickering across his face, but I can’t handle it—not the softness in his gaze, not the confusion, not the chance that he might say he’s sorry.
“This was fun.” The words coming out thin and fragile. “Thanks again for making sure I didn’t turn into a popsicle.”
“Emme, wait?—”
But I’m already opening the door to the crisp winter air. The cold rushes in, sharp enough to sting, but not enough to erase the heat rising in my cheeks. It feels just like last year—the same tight ache in my throat, the same flush of humiliation spreading across my skin.
At least this time, the only one here to watch me fall apart is me.
CHAPTER 10
WEST
The cabin feelswrong without Emme.
It’s too quiet. Without her, it’s empty.
And I can smell her sugary scent everywhere. Her laughter seems to linger, too. It’s faint and haunting, and this cabin that felt like home an hour ago now feels hollow.
My wolf is pacing, restless, loud in my head.
Go get her. She’smine.
But the human part of me—the part who actually listened to her—pushes back.
“She’s not looking for a mate. She said as much. And even if she was, I’m not the mate for her. Fate told me loud and clear that I’m not right for anyone.”
Go. Get. Her.
Instead, I stand there in the center of the cabin and try to make peace with the ache tearing through my chest and the wolf inside me who won’t stop clawing to get free. The two halves of me—beast and man—are at war, one screaming to move, the other too afraid of what it means if I do.
The pull to shift, to run, to track her is one I haven’t felt in years. It’s wild and insistent and hammers against my ribs until I can barely breathe. It’s been so long that I don’t know what todo with it, don’t know how to quiet it or where to put the rest of what’s twisted up inside me. The anger. The guilt. The despair.
I grab the axe and step outside without a coat or gloves. The cold winter air hits me like a slap.
Good. I deserve the burn.
The storm has left behind a glittering blanket of snow and a silence deep enough to make my ears ring. I grunt, dust off a few rounds of pine, and start swinging
Wood splinters, shards flying up to sting my face. My breath fogs the air. My arms burn. I keep swinging—again and again and again—until the ache in my chest starts to blend with the ache in my body. Until sweat stings my eyes, and the snow around me is littered with split logs.
But this hasn’t helped the restlessness kicking around inside me or the way my heart squeezes when I turn to go back into an empty cabin. Nothing will help. Because it isn’t the wolf making me feel this way.
I feel this way because I let her go.
The wolf continues pacing as I trudge back inside. He doesn’t care that I’m exhausted. He won’t ever let me forget what I gave up.
I grab the Glenlivet off the counter and take a long pull straight from the bottle. It burns all the way down as I sink into the leather armchair, chest heaving, trying to get a handle on myself.
The jar of pink frosting sits on the side table, catching the firelight. Around it, Emme arranged pink pastel marshmallows in the shape of a heart. The sight squeezes my chest so tight, it forces the breath from my lungs.
A heart.
She left me a damn heart—candy pink proof that what happened between us was real. That she might have stayed if only I’d been brave enough to ask. But I was too caught up in myown insecurities. I was too scared to see what she was offering while she was still here.
“Goddammit.” I scrub a hand over my face. “You fucking ass.”
Every reason I told myself to let her go starts to sound like a lie, because the truth is simple: I let Emme Lark walk away when I should’ve fought for her.
