“Things can’t continue like this, Jenna.” Dayne’s voice is low, controlled, and even though there’s the hint of disapproval in his tone, there’s also reassurance, too.
I stare out into the Dawley National Forest, mere steps away from the back porch that Dayne and I are sitting on. Since I can’t feel his gaze on the side of my face, I guess he’s staring out into the forest just as I am. “I know.”
“I don’t know what’s happened between you and Marshall, and ordinarily, I’d stay out of it since it’s not my place to meddle in relationships between my pack. But you’re miserable. He’s miserable and losing control of his emotions. And his wolf.”
Dayne doesn’t have to tell me this.
It’s been clear to me that since Marshall and I had the disastrous conversation about us mating at his house over a week ago, he’s been losing control of his wolf. For him to stuff me in his car like that, and then lock me in it… neither of those acts are the Marshall I know and love.
I lift my legs and wrap my arms around them. “That’s why I have to leave. It’ll be easier for him if I’m not around.”
“And you? Will it be easier for you as well?”
I don’t immediately answer because it’s clear that he doesn’t believe it will. Instead, trying to ignore the sounds of the pack inside the house moving furniture around, I inhale the wild scent of rich soil and fresh leaves, thinking it’ll help relax me. Ground me, even. It doesn’t.
That it’s Dayne having this conversation with me and not Talis makes me realize just how seriously he’s taking this. Once we returned from the Dawley-Stone site, leaving Marshall still parked in the clearing as Dayne pulled away, I expected it would be Talis demanding to know what was happening between me and Marshall.
Instead, I returned to find the pack had finished emptying all of Regan’s belongings from the white van that Dean had driven down from Hardin, and everyone was inside trying to figure out where everything was going.
We didn’t make it inside.
Talis and Dayne met each other’s eyes for a long moment, and then it was Dayne asking me to follow him to the bench at the back of the house, while Talis went inside to help with the unpacking.
The mate bond. They must’ve spoken with each other using thoughts.
“Jenna?” Dayne asks when I don’t respond.
I hug myself tighter so that my hands are too busy for me to twirl my shoulder-length hair. Dayne would assume it was because I was anxious, and he’d be right.
“Maybe you could speak with Regan. Maybe-”
I get to my feet so quickly that I nearly fall. “No. No, I don’t want to. I don’t-”
“Hey, it’s okay. It was a suggestion, not an order.”
I take a few steps away, stopping at the edge of the porch with my arms wrapped around my middle. Although my back is to Dayne, I hear him rising from the bench and wandering a little closer but keeping his distance.
While I know Dayne won’t force me to speak to Regan about me and Marshall, it isn’t enough to calm me.
As an omega, Regan can heal hearts and she can mend the broken pieces of a shifter, which is why I can’t speak to her. I don’t want her to mend what’s broken between me and Marshall.
I don’t want to go back on my promise to myself to walk away from him and not look back. The thing is, she could, all too easily, and I can’t let that happen.
“You realize that she’s going to want to talk to you? Especially if you’re serious about seeking permanent sanctuary here,” Dayne reminds me in a low voice.
I know, which is why I had no intention of staying here for long after they all left to return to Hardin. I’d planned on telling Regan and Jackson I’d decided that this wasn’t the place for me after all, because knowing Marshall, it wouldn’t be long before he came back looking for me.
“Unless you didn’t intend to stay,” Dayne adds when I remain silent.
Since he would know I was lying if I tried to deny it, I don’t respond.
“What’s so bad that you’d run from us, Jenna? It’s not safe for you to-”
“Go anywhere on my own?” I snap. And then I tense, aware that Dayne has stilled behind me because I don’t snap at anyone. Especially not at Dayne. Not ever.
I wait in silence for him to snarl at me because a submissive wolf does not snap at her alpha. Not for any reason.
For a long time, Dayne says nothing, then he clears his throat. “I remember you mentioned you had some client work you were busy with. Have you finished it?”
At his unexpected question, I half turn in confusion.
When he says nothing else, presumably because he’s waiting for me to answer his question, I shake my head.
“When will you finish?” he asks.
I force myself to stop thinking about me snapping at Dayne, about the possibility that Marshall will soon return to the house and what will happen when he does, and instead I think about work.
As a freelance illustrator, occasionally I’ll agree to take on clients. Mostly, I’m happy to focus on creating art for my online store, which I run from a spare room in my cottage a few miles outside of Hardin.
While I’m not rolling in money like software engineer Dean is, my cute forest animal art prints and stickers are popular enough that it’s brought me an income that’s meant I’ve supported myself since I was eighteen. At twenty-three, my business is still doing well.
When Owen, our former alpha, changed for the worst, Marshall helped me find a small cabin outside of town that was affordable, and that would give me the space I needed to run my business.
It hasn’t been easy dealing with taxes, complaining customers, and other things that other people must do easily. For me, it’s a whole day of anxiety and stress that leaves me unable to draw because it takes so much out of me.
Shaking my head, I return to the question. Right. My rare commission. “Not long. A couple of days. It’s mostly at the revision stage now.”
The client has been coming to me since I opened my store, and she wanted me to design a menu with a cute woodland theme for her small cupcake business. As my first real client, over the years, Maddison has turned into a friend.
A friend who has no idea what I am or that shifters exist, but a friend, nonetheless.
Recently, she came to me wanting a refresh on some cake box packaging that I designed for her years ago. Although I brought my laptop and my tablet to continue the project here, I’ve been in no state to work.
“I know you’ve been supporting yourself fine, but I’d feel a lot better if you’d finish any outstanding work first,” Dayne says.
I swing around to face him in shock because I never imagined he would agree.
After a second of meeting his eyes, I lower my gaze to his bearded chin which is a shade darker than his blond hair.
“Your business is important. We’re here, as you know, to help Regan move in and we’ll have that done today. Tomorrow, early, we’re returning to Hardin-all of us-and you will complete your client work.”
My heart sinks, and so does my head because he’s not agreeing. He’s just dragging me back to Hardin regardless of what I want.
“But once you’ve completed your client work, come to me and tell me. And then we’ll see about moving you down here. If Regan agrees.”
What? Dayne is saying yes?
Before I can respond to this unexpected agreement, there’s a snarl from the bottom of the porch stairs, and I turn, knowing who I’ll find.
“No. That isn’t happening. You can’t let-” Marshall doesn’t get to finish his diatribe, nor does Dayne let him climb the porch stairs.
“Jenna. Inside,” Dayne interrupts, as he cuts Marshall off halfway up the stairs.
I don’t hesitate before rushing to the door, but before I pull it open, even knowing I shouldn’t, I cast a glance behind me and find Dayne literally body blocking Marshall.
Our gazes connect. His eyes plead for me to change my mind. “Jenna, don’t do this. Don’t leave.”
And even though I hear the pain in his voice-the agony that I’m inflicting on him-that doesn’t stop me from shoving the door open and darting inside.
I ignore the glances at me from the rest of the pack, who are all busy unloading the countless boxes spread throughout the hallway, kitchen, and lounge.
Talis starts toward me, but I don’t stop to hear what she wants to say. As my eyes fill with tears and all I want-all I need-is a quiet place where I can let it all out.
I rush up the stairs and continue up to the bathroom on the top floor of the three-story home, where I slam the door shut and lock it, before resting my back against it.
Even though I’m in one of the furthest rooms from the back porch, it’s not far enough. I still hear Marshall’s demands for Dayne to let him go. I still hear him calling my name, wanting to know how he can fix this. Wanting to know how to stop me from leaving.
My tears overflow as I sink to the floor. I curl my arms around my legs and bury my face on my knees, and then I let all the tears out.