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We want privacy now—so why wouldn’t he want to return to his?
I don’t ask him. Then again, I don’thaveto.”
“I’m sorry for snapping, baby. It’s just…” He exhales roughly. “I haven’t slept in my bed in three years. Not since the last time you were in it with me.”
Oh, West. Three years?
As if he has the need to explain, he continues, “I would curl up on my couch as my wolf. And that’s when I wasn’t sleeping on your porch.”
“You didn’t…”
He nods.
Wow.
West’s determination to get me back was the biggest open secret in the pack—but that’s something I didn’t know. He spent so much time outside of my cabin, the sandalwood lingered. I just… it never occurred to me that he would much rather sleep outside on my porch than in a bed without me.
And it had to be the porch. I haven’t let him step foot inside of my home since the day I broke things off with him. He closed off his bedroom, a shrine to our relationship.
Was what I did any better?
I squeeze his fingers. “Come on. Let me take you home.”
That’s all it takes. West leans down, nuzzling his bite on my throat, then lets me lead him toward the Omega cabin.
As we walk inside my territory—ourterritory—West pauses. I glance over in time to see his nostrils flare. His lips part, sampling the air.
I freeze.
I didn’t think it was that obvious. At least, I didn’t until West says, “That scent…”
Busted.
Brushing my shoulder with his palm, almost as though he’s incapable of passing by me without even the quickest connection, he moves toward my bookshelf. I have six thick leather-bound albums tucked in between all of the paperbacks and hardcovers in my collection.
He unerringly reaches for the first album. Looking over his shoulder, waiting for me to nod, he turns his attention back toward the album. He flips it open.
I fiddle with the hem of my skirt nervously.
West sucks in a breath. “Helene…”
“Yes?”
His gaze searches me out again. This time, the dark grey glitters with gold. “Is this what I think it is?”
An album full of hundreds and hundreds of pressed wildflowers? Because that’s exactly what it is.
I smile at him. “What did you think I was doing with all the flowers you brought me?”
EPILOGUE
SIX MONTHS LATER
April in Louisiana is gorgeous.
The warblers sing their songs during the spring migration, the wet season is still on the cusp of arriving, and the wildflowers that dot the forests surrounding hickory are in full bloom. It’s nowhere near as hot and sweltering as it’ll be come June, but as the temps reach seventy during the day, I pull on another sundress and sit on my porch, enjoying the cooler breeze in the early morning.
At least, that’s what I do when I’m not helping Sofia and West keep the pack from acting out because Bishop is off territory.
