Page 76 of Crashing Tides

I want the answer to be yes. Even if I don’t trust myself, I trust Duncan. A few years ago, I might’ve found him boring. But there’s nothing wrong with steady and dependable. He answers texts in a reasonable amount of time. Returns phone calls. Overthinks everything. Brushes my hair out of my eyes and cups my face when he kisses me.

The sight of him lights up my entire day.

But I get the feeling there’s a bunch of werewolf stuff he isn’t telling me, and that makes me nervous. Would he appreciate it if I did my own research? Or would he think I was too nosy? Is he keeping secrets on purpose? Does he think the details aren’t important?

“Hey,” I ask Duncan when we’re alone after dinner. “Are we in a relationship?”

He turns startled gray eyes to me, looks almost betrayed. Pained. I feel kind of bad that I caught him so off-guard.

Mostly, I’m just worried. I wasn’t expecting him to look like this, gut-punched and bewildered.

It takes him a moment to respond. “Do you want to be?”

I nod. All the excitement has fled the moment. Now I’m just anxious and embarrassed, wishing I could disappear so I don’t have to bear the weight of his gaze. “If you do.”

He purses his lips, gives me an apprehensive look. “Of course I do.”

My knees are shaking. “OK. You just seem kind of… unhappy?”

Now it’s his turn to look down at the pavement, his cheeks pinking. “I thought we already were.”

Shit. I stop in my tracks, completely mortified.

It’s not an unreasonable assumption. We’ve been doing all the things people in relationships do. With gusto and consistency. I already agreed to be exclusive.

Am I an actual idiot?

Panic climbs up my throat. I can’t breathe. I just stand there, completely frozen.

I force myself to say something. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

When he tilts his head, his eyes flash yellow. “You look like you’re freaking out.”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“What’s wrong? If you need to wait⁠—”

“No!” I cry, surprising myself with how much I don’t want to wait. “I just—I should’ve asked sooner. Did I hurt your feelings?”

He takes his hand in mine, runs a thumb over my wrist. “A little bit, but we never talked about it, so I can’t be upset.”

When I don’t say anything, he adds, “I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?”

He wraps his arms around me, sighs. “No. Are you OK?”

I close my eyes, lean against him. “I’ll be fine. I’m just having a bad day.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

I shake my head.

“Wanna get a drink?”

That’s tempting, but I have a mountain of homework to catch up on, and I kind of just want to be alone. Everything I’ve been avoiding lately has come up to the surface. I probably need to acknowledge it before it drags me under. “Not tonight.”

“OK,” he says, and presses a kiss to my temple. “I’m not mad at you. We should’ve talked about it sooner. If you want it to be official, it’s official, all right?”