Page 176 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

“We already answered him,” I said.

Mary stopped breathing.

Hudson looked at me, then back at her. “We told him we refuse the terms.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means nobody is ever coming between us,” I said.

Her scent trembled and I forced my hands to stay at my sides.

“Not Damien, Callum, fear, or even that half second of silence where we failed you. If you’ll let us spend the rest of our lives proving it false, then we will forever.”

“You hesitated.” Her eyes filled.

“Yes.” The word cost me.

“We did,” Hudson said.

Mary looked at him.

He didn’t hide from it. “Not because we believed him.”

“Then why?”

Hudson drew in a slow breath. “Because he’s a young man we helped raise, and he was standing in front of us bleeding from every old wound he had. For half a second, I saw his pain before I answered his accusation. That half second hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” I said.

Mary wiped her cheek quickly, irritated by the tear. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“Meaning isn’t the only thing that matters,” Hudson said. “Impact matters.”

Her mouth trembled.

Maeve looked into the fire, suspiciously quiet.

I crossed the remaining distance slowly. Mary didn’t step back. That felt like permission and I stopped close enough to feel her warmth. “Nobody will ever come between us,” I said again. “But we need you to hear this too. You can’t protect us by leaving.”

Her face crumpled for one second before she caught it. “I wasn’t leaving forever. I just couldn’t stay and listen to him make you choose.”

“Then next time,” Hudson said, coming to her other side, “tell us. Shout at us. You throw something. You tell us where the fear is before it drives.”

Mary gave a wet laugh. “Throw something?”

“Preferably soft.”

“I’ve got excellent aim.”

“I know,” Hudson said. “I’m factoring that in. Cushions are good projectiles in those moments.”

The laugh broke again, and this time it became a sob. Hudson and I moved at the same time, and Mary came into our arms as if her body had been waiting for permission longer than her pride had. I wrapped one arm around her back and one carefully around her waist. Hudson cupped the back of her head, his face pressed into her hair.

Her scent opened, violet and blackberry under tears, and it smelled like home.

“We love you,” Hudson said.

Mary shook against us.