I want to tell her the truth. I want to make her stay. But we have no future. We never did.
“You’ve been good to me and my son. You lost your job because you tried to protect Ethan. Isn’t that enough of a reason?”
She searches my gaze as if trying to figure out if I’m telling her the truth.
“Just that?” she asks slowly, not entirely convinced.
“Just that” is my calm response.
She pulls away from me, her jaw tight. “I didn’t protect Ethan’s identity because I wanted money from you.”
“Miranda—” I begin, frowning.
“No!” Her tone is harsh. “Don’t bring Ethan into this. Don’t you dare put a value on my relationship with your son. He is—” She wets her lips, her eyes glistening with tears. “He’s important to me. I won’t have you taint what I feel for that child by—by—”
She can’t finish that sentence, and once again I’m left floundering. “I’m not. I’m just trying to say—”
I cut myself off when she wipes her eyes furiously. “I’ll pay off what I owe you. I don’t take handouts, Grayson. Not from anybody. I’ll talk to Coach Ramirez and get my medical team position back. I’ll use that money to get back on my feet, and I will pay you back the money. But I won’t take a cent from you.”
I open my mouth, but she shakes her head. “I won’t argue about this.”
She’s clearly been thinking about taking back her position. It does make sense. She needs that money, especially if she doesn’t want to take anything from me.
Miranda slides off the stool and carries the bowl to the sink. I watch her do it: the slow, careful way she moves because her ribs are still tender, the white-knuckled grip she keeps on the edge of the counter afterward to steady herself. She doesn’t ask for help, nor does she look at me.
Frustration rears its head within me. I just offered her the world on a platter, and her damn pride won’t let her take it. My wolf is offended she doesn’t want us to support her. It’s also a little proud of that streak of stubbornness within her.
“I’m going to bed.”
Things between us are still awkward. The scales have been tipped, and our relationship is trying to adjust itself to the new balance. As she heads toward the stairs, I follow after her. Thewalk upstairs is slow. Her injuries may be healed, but she still needs time.
Ethan is a small mound in the center of my bed, one arm thrown over ChuChu’s head, mouth open, dead to the world. Miranda stops in the doorway and looks at him. Her expression grows soft, and my heart skips a beat.
She crosses to the bed and lowers herself carefully onto the edge, settling on her side, facing him. I watch her reach out and brush the hair off his forehead.
I move to the other side of the bed and pull off my shirt. Her head whips up, shock in her eyes as she hisses, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
I toss my shirt on a chair. “Going to sleep.”
Her eyes narrow at me. “Not here you’re not. I’m sleeping here.”
I give her a wry smile. “This is my bed, Miranda. Where else am I going to sleep?”
Her lips part, and I allow myself to enjoy the moment. I hadn’t planned on sleeping here at all. I was going to sleep in one of the numerous guest bedrooms. But my wolf had other ideas.
It’s been clawing since the kitchen, since she put her hand on my wrist and then took it away. The need to be close to her, to keep her within arm’s reach, is not something I can reason around tonight.
“Then I’ll leave.” She tries to get up, but I’m in front of her before she can so much as twitch.
“Get under the covers, Miranda.” My voice is firm, and she scowls.
“I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you.”
“Why?” I grab her jaw, squeezing it gently till her lips pucker. “You afraid I’ll bite?”
Normally her response to this would have been something nasty, and when she just looks up at me, a new hesitance in hereyes, my chest tightens. Her attraction to me has always been obvious, but tonight it hurts. I loosen my grip and caress her soft skin. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. So just sleep, okay? I’ll feel more comfortable if you’re where I can see you.”
The words are torn from me, my voice hoarse, and I see the flicker of guilt in her eyes. Her lips part slightly as if she wants to say something, but she turns her head away, pressing them together into a thin line. Finally, she murmurs, “Do what you want.”
