He didn’t flinch, though his grip tightened on the rail. “Alright. Then I couldn’t accept it. I wanted to hunt you down. To bring you back home.”
“This place was never my home.”
“You were born here. Your parents were buried here. You werepack.”
Her jaw tightened, her limbs shaking, from cold or anger, he couldn’t tell. “I never belonged. You know that. I was practically an outcast from the Nordan. The only thing tying me here was…” she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, her voice cracking, “…was you.”
The words were like a punch to the gut. He wanted to reach out to her, hold her tight, tell her how sorry he was for everything. “Aye, and I fucked it up that night we spent together. I know I did. I regret it every day.”
She inhaled sharply, her scent spiking, “You regret it?”
“What? No, no—fuck,” he rubbed his hand over his face. “I meant I regret…howit happened. I regret what I said after. I regret that I missed so much. You. Her. Everything. I missed her first steps. Missed her birthdays. Missed every time she was scared, and you had to stand between her and the world alone. I wasn’t there because I was…I was a coward.”
The admission sat between them, ugly and true.
“I chose fear,” he said. “Of being seen as weak. Of my father’s voice in my head. Of losing the pack. I hurt you.” He forced himself to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry, Dani. For that morning. For what I said. For not hunting you down to the four corners of the world. For not explaining properly. For all of it.”
The bond throbbed, picking up his shame, feeding back a knot of hurt, anger, and something he didn’t dare name.
She studied his face, searching. Her eyes were wet but sharp.
“That is,” she said slowly, “the most straightforward apology you’ve ever managed.”
“Is the bar really that low?” he asked with a huff.
A short laugh escaped her.
“I’m still angry,” she added. “I spent so long putting up with being your shameful little secret. Of compromising my wants and needs, opening myself up to be hurt, just so that I could be near you, be friends with you, even though you were the alpha’s son and I was just an outcast. And that version of me…she’s gone. That’s on you.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
“But,” she said, and something eased in his chest, “I’m glad you’re here. That you’ve met her. That she knows you. She deserved that. Even if you are an idiot.”
“I am an idiot,” he agreed.
She shook her head, faint exasperation softening into something else, and reached for him.
Her hand slid into his, fingers cold, grip sure. Heat shot up his arm, the bond lit, bright and pleased.
He squeezed once. She didn’t pull away.
Up ahead, Aurelia turned, saw their joined hands, and her eyebrows shot up. Dani made the smallest “don’t start” expression. Aurelia visibly swallowed whatever commentary she had and went back to her rope.
They stood like that until the wind bit through their coats and Dani shivered.
“We should head back into town,” Arthur said, voice rougher than he liked. “You’ll freeze.”
“You’re the one who refuses to wear a hat,” she muttered, but she didn’t let go of his hand until the pier met the road again.
***
Afternoon light angled through the front windows of the Chilkat Inn. A couple of Nordan wolves hunched over cards. Two Severney nursed coffees in a corner. Human fishermen lined the stools near the door, damp jackets steaming.
Chase lounged behind the bar. Layla perched on a stool with tea, one hand absently on her belly.
Chase’s grin kicked up when he saw them. “If it isn’t the alpha family outing,” he said. “Adorable. Sickening, but adorable.”
Arthur grunted. “Shut up and pour.”
