Page 73 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

Aunt Linda raised her glass again. “I heard that.”

My mother leaned in. “Cassie, sweetheart, are you sure you’re okay? The wedding has been postponed, and Tessa is so upset, and I know you would never want her to feel guilty.”

There it was again. Even now. Even from a tablet screen. Tessa flinched, and for once, I didn’t know whether it was guilt over me or recognition of Mom’s timing.

My father’s face went flat.

Aunt Linda said, “Marianne.”

My mother looked wounded. “What? I’m saying she cares about her sister.”

I was too tired for the old dance.

“I do care about her,” I said.

My mother softened with relief.

I finished, “That doesn’t make her guilt mine to manage.”

The lobby went silent again as Tessa stared at me. Then she started crying harder, but differently this time. Less performance, more pain with no place to sit.

“Cassie,” she whispered.

“I love you,” I said, because it was still true and I hated how much truth could hurt. “I’m alive. I need to rest. That is all I can do right now.”

Tessa nodded, covering her mouth.

Dad stepped closer to the screen. “You call me again as soon as they let you.”

“I will.”

“And if you need me, you find a way.”

Ronan stood very still near the bed.

I looked at my father’s face and let myself take one selfish second to feel loved by someone who didn’t need me quiet to manage himself.

“I know,” I said.

Lucien ended the call and the tablet went dark. For a few seconds, the room made no sound except the monitor and my own breathing. Then pain rushed back in as if the call had been holding it politely outside.

I turned my head into the pillow and clenched my teeth.

Sava moved immediately. “Her pulse is climbing.”

Ian was beside me before I could tell him not to be.

He stopped short of touching me. “Cassie.”

I didn’t look at him. If I looked at him, the room would see too much. They would see rage and fear and the terrible, traitorous relief my body wanted from the same hand that had caused the wound.

“May I touch your hand?”

I hated him for asking. “Yes.”

His fingers slid under mine. The pain didn’t vanish. It eased back from the edge, which was almost worse because it proved the thing I resented most.

I needed him. For now.