Page 72 of Trick Knot Treat

“Yeah, but the paperwork doesn’t just do itself, Clint. And I gave in because it was her wish. Should I fight her? Tell her she doesn’t know her own mind? Demand she obey me? Force her? No, the thing about people is, we can’t force them. You can’t force me to choose you.”

Clint watches bitterly as Jace stomps off, his whole body shaking as he tries to tamp down his emotions.

“What do you want to do?” Clint asks me, and I note the hint of desperation in his voice.

What?

“You want to hang out?” I ask, startled.

“Well, yeah, I mean we’re pack, aren’t we? Or we could be. I’d like to know more before I decide one way or the other. I really like food. Do you like food? I know a great place we can go.”

Clint looks broken, uncertain. He’s hurt, I realise with clarity.

“Uh, sure.”

I follow in his wake. This great place is a fish and chip shop, and then he drags me down to the beach where he throws chips at seagulls, kicks off his shoes, and runs back and forth with Spectre until they both collapse on their backs in the sand.

Watching him play with my dog won more brownies points than I care to admit.

I lay in the sand with my arm over my eyes; the sun is warm. I can hear Clint talking, and I feel safe.

The flames lick under the door. Black smoke rolls and billows along the ceiling, the sound is horrendous. All I can hear is my breathing, sharp, heavy. The weight of the firefighting gear, my oxygen tank is too heavy, but it’s like a security, too. I walk towards the door, but I know not to open it.

They don’t.

They come out of nowhere and grab the door before I can stop them. Before the fire can engulf them, I wake up roaring.

Spectre is lying on my chest, and I have my fingers tangled in his fur. He licks my face, while Clint moves closer and closer until he’s squatting next to me.

“You have nightmares.”

I turn my head and look at him. I don’t have to answer that. It wasn’t really a question.

“What are you dreaming about?”

“A night I almost killed a whole lot of people.”

Clint sits down beside me, his knee touches mine, and I find it’s not as abhorrent as I would have thought.

“But they didn’t die.” When I don’t answer, he looks at me. “You said almost.”

I frown. “They are alive. I just dream they all die,” I admit. “It was too close. The girls…if I’d been just a second slower.”

Clint stands up and pulls me up. “Come on, you can come with me for the day.”

“Where are we going?”

“To work it off.”

Work it off means I am slave labour. Not that I mind, I’m actually enjoying myself more than I care to admit. Clint is a patient teacher, and when he likes something, he throws his whole self into learning and doing as good a job as he can.

The boisterous pain in the ass who uses his loud mouth as a shield has toned back, and he’s just another alpha, but one who is intelligent, who likes hard work and creating things with his hands. He’s funny and charming, and in one afternoon, I find myself falling under his spell.

“Not like that.”

I jolt realising I'd stopped paying attention to the stained glass and am watching the way his muscles flex.

Huh.