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Smith edges closer, until he’s standing at the opposite end of the island. Pressing both palms into the squeaky-clean, polished stone, he stares sightlessly down at the note she leaves for him each evening.
“Yeah… I know,” he croaks, pausing. He clears his throat. “The thing I can’t figure out is why she feels like she needs to do all of this. She knows you adore her. And Damon, obviously. We moved her in here, took on all of her expenses. Why is she trying to do everything on her own? Why keep showing up at the shop?”
I glare at him, refusing to believe he’s this clueless. Then, it occurs to me that he might actually have no idea what she went through.
Did I ever mention it? Probably not. I wouldn’t have broken her confidence that way, back then. And once she was gone? It would have felt like talking shit about someone I used to care about.
Still cared about.
Will always care about.
Will always… love.
So goddamn much.
My chest tightens, aching as I rub my palm over my sternum and stare my brother down. “Smith, think about it. Think about where she lived.”
His brows fold over his dark eyes. “I know she has no money. I’ve already given her the pack’s card, and she knows we’ll pay for anything she?—”
I shake my head. “No. Smith. Think. She was an orphan. A true one—not like us. Compared to her, we were just… unlucky. Our parents died—but at least we had parents. A home. A family. And then we had each other. She was just alone, Smith. No one wanted her ever. Not even her own mother.”
Saying all of this shit—it hurts. Every word feels like a thorn, torn from a tender spot at the base of my throat. They scrape out of me in rusty rasps.
“I used to watch her,” I whisper. “When other kids had visitors on the weekends. She sat at the top of the steps and saw them all go. No one ever came for her.”
Smith’s features crease in a wince. “So she’s doing all of this… to show that she’s appreciative?”
The whole ripping-his-arms-off thing Damon suggested is sounding more and more appealing.
“No,” I grind out. “She’s scared. She went to foster homes. They all returned her. No one wanted to keep her. I imagine she worries you’ll do the same thing.”
Smith snaps upright. “I would never, ever send her away,” he growls.
I arch a brow at him. “I would never, ever let you. But I’m not the one who feels insecure, here. You need to figure out how to make her feel like she has a real place in this pack. Especially if you ever expect to bond with her. Jesus, Smith, you won’t even talk to her—you think she’s going to want you inside her mind?”
He scowls. “I’m trying not to scare her! She’s afraid of me!”
I wave at hand him, the way he’s glaring and bellowing and pumping out waves of aggression that would bowl over a weaker alpha. And swamp an omega like a tsunami.
“Yeah, no shit.”
For a long moment, Smith just stares at me. His dominance pummels my resolve, telling me to back down.
But for Remi?
I never will.
chapter
thirty-eight
Sometimes, the only way to live without the things you want the most is to convince yourself that you didn’t really want them that much in the first place.
I’m an expert at it.
For years, I lied to myself about my little apartment. My tinier bedroom. The closet floor nest.
Because I didn’t want to let myself imagine this.
