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“Hmm.” Denny continued to study my face. Did he think I was lying? I had no reason to. “Strange. I’ve never heard of it taking that long. Eighteen years is a long time to wait for a moon dream about someone you already know.”
I scoffed. “You’re telling me.”
I turned back to my beer and picked at the edge of its coaster. Admittedly, those eighteen years were a sore spot for me. They probably always would be. If my wolf had only gotten his shit together earlier, I wouldn’t be sitting at the bar of a strip club with a bounty hunter. I’d be at home with Felicity, playing with our cubs. There never would have been a Melony Houghton incident. No kidnapping, either.
Felicity would have been mine from the first day I met her. We would have held our mating ceremony right after she turned eighteen. When I ascended to being alpha of the pack, she would have been there at my side. Ma never would’ve had room to meddle in my love life. Quincy Houghton would have had no opportunity to try and force his way into some hare-brained union between our packs.
It would’ve just been me and Cheeks, from day one until the end of forever. It was a notion so sweet, I couldn’t help but long for it, even though I knew there was no traveling through time, no going back.
“She ever date anyone before you?” Denny asked.
“Felicity?”
Denny nodded.
His interest in her surprised me. Most shifters didn’t have much of a care about what humans did.
She must have worked her charms on him.Thatdidn’t surprise me. Felicity was easy to love.
“When she was away at college, yeah. I never met any of the guys, which says a lot.” I chuckled, remembering how pissed I’d gotten every time she’d called me, upset about something one of them had done. “She probably thought I’d hate them all, and she would’ve been right.”
“You don’t think they were treating her well?”
“In my book? I don’t think any man ever could,” I admitted. “Even I feel like I come up short sometimes. She deserves the entire goddamn world.”
“Yeah. Yeah, she does,” Denny agreed. His brow creased in the middle. “They say, ah, girls who don’t grow up with a dad, or, ya know, a strong male role model. Sometimes they go after shitty guys: liars, manipulators, cheaters, abusers. That kind of thing.”
I laughed. “You saying you think my mate might have daddy issues?”
“I’m not saying anything.” Denny gave me a hard look and stood up. “I’m just glad you two found each other, Miller. You seem…good for her,” he grunted, then drained the last of his beer. “I’m gonna hit the head, then we better get back to it. Sorry for the detour. Just another dead end.”
As Denny walked away, I turned back to the bar. It was sweet, really, that Denny had taken such a liking to Felicity. He’d even gotten her to talk about her family, which was surprising. I couldn’t even remember if they’d had a chance to speak without me around, so he must have worked it out of her quickly. It wasn’t often that Cheeks opened up about how it felt to grow up without a dad.
I sipped my beer, savoring the bitterness of its hops. Talking about Felicity made me miss her. Everything did. Being away from her for so many days like this felt like I’d left some part of myself back in Massachusetts. Something as essential as an eye or a hand.
I finished my beer and pulled my phone out, intending to text her. While Denny and I had barely spoken to each other these past few days, I’d bombarded her with messages to fill the time. Now that I knew the trust between Denny and I would survive his lie by omission, I wanted to update her. I wanted to harass her for pictures of Rylan, for pictures of her, for news from back home—
“Hey, you,” a breathy voice purred in my ear. My phone disappeared from sight as a pair of hands slipped around me, covering my eyes. “Wanna dance?”
Internally, I groaned. Fucking strip clubs. I couldn’t even be pissed at the dancers. I was here on their turf, taking up space without paying. Misguided as she was, this poor girl was just trying to do her job.
“No, thanks.” With one hand, I reached into my pocket for my wallet. With the other, I pushed her hands away from my eyes. “Here. I’ll give you a hundred just to, I don’t know… take a break or something. Your choice. I’m not here for a dance.”
“I don’t need your money, sweetie,” she purred. “I just need you.”
Something in the tone of her voice felt personal. Not strippers-love-me personal, but truly genuine. Heartfelt.
Besides, I’d never known a waiter to turn down a hundred-dollar tip. I didn’t imagine an exotic dancer would be any more inclined.
I turned on my bar stool, breathing in. There was no telltale scent, no cloying vanilla perfume—
But standing behind me was none other than Melony Houghton. Here. In this club. In the flesh.
“My Xander.” Her smile was gentle and innocent, as earnest as a child’s on Christmas morning. “I knew you’d come.”
Chapter22
Felicity
