"Do you remember how hung up I was on Wyatt when I first got here?"
When he first got here and several months afterward, but I didn't mention that. "You're young. You have an excuse."
"Maybe, but that's not my point. I was so twisted with the idea of Wyatt and me getting together. Even after it became painfully clear that there was nothing between us, I held on and did some pretty embarrassing things too." His mouth stretched in to a cringe as he remembered those days. But, at some memory, his lips curled into the ghost of a smile. "And almost the whole time, Tyrone stood near, waiting for me to be ready to see what was right in front of me. And even though I'd done some truly cringeworthy things, he didn't tease me. He wasn't angry I didn't recognize who he was to me more quickly."
My stomach growled. "What are you saying, Paul?"
"That we can act like idiots and the people who love us, who matter, will be there when we're done and have learned from our mistakes. Kansas said Hollister couldn't tell you to leave."
That had been the case last night, I didn't know how he was feeling now. "He still might."
Paul shook his head. "Nah. He's smart. Too good for you by far." Paul smirked, elbowing me softly in the stomach. He stood, shaking off the sentimental moment. "But you can't starve to death before that happens, so here." He handed me a square Tupperware container he'd pulled from his backpack. "Julie is the one who put it all together, so don't thank me. I was just the messenger."
I had a feeling Paul had been playing just the messenger for a long time.
"Thank you, Paul. For the food and…everything."
"Just thank me for the food," Paul said. "I'm headed in there next." He jerked his head toward the house.
"Don't worry. You're still allowed in," I said to his back.
He grinned over his shoulder, jogging the rest of the way to the door. When it opened, I kept my gaze down. I wouldn't search for Hollister in the sliver of space the open door allowed me to see. I opened the Tupperware instead, pulling out a sandwich wrapped in plastic, some fruit, jerky, and nuts.
Branson had made his stance clear. He didn't want me inside. He didn't want me near the kids. And, looking at my actions since meeting them on the dock with clarity that could only come with time, I understood why. But I also couldn't beg. To no one but Hollister anyway.
My only choice was to wait and hope for my mate's forgiveness.
***
Two weeks later…
I wiped my mouth, leaning back as Mr. Boots continued to chew his meal of venison. In the days since I'd been banished outside, the cat and I had grown close. Besides Paul, Mr. Boots was the only person to visit me, so when footsteps approached, we both froze to check out the visitor.
We'd been visited by bears and natural wolves, deer—like the doe I'd taken down the day before—and a large number of small forest critters. But this was the first time we'd been visited by a wild firefighter.
"Your nose looks good," I grunted.
"You look like shit," Nash replied. "I'm not here to let you in. Branson's putting his foot down."
Our eyes locked, silence stretching between us, but that didn't mean the air was calm. Nash wore a t-shirt and joggers, and he smelled like soap. I hadn't showered in weeks—other than my freezing cold creek dips— but it didn't really bother me, until I faced someone who had. "How is he?" I asked tightly. Not being near him for this long was killing me. I could still feel him, smell him. That was better than nothing.
"How do you think? He's pregnant, ready to pop, and his alpha is camped out in the woods outside his house."
I lifted my chin. "Did he send you out here to ask me to go?"
Nash stared at me, the time seeming to race by though it could've only been a few seconds. "No," he said finally. "He didn't. He won't. For some reason, he loves you."
My chest tightened. The only thing I wanted to do was rip the door down and carry my mate out, but I forced myself to remain on the log. I stretched my legs out, crossing them at the ankles. "Is he being cared for? Does he need anything?"
"You know he doesn't. Who better to anticipate his needs than three men who have already gone through what he is going through? Riley, Phin, and Kansas have been tending to his every need, barking at us only when they need more chocolate or movies." He pretended to be annoyed, but the irritation didn't reach his eyes.
"His checkup was yesterday. Did someone…"
Nash arched a brow. "You weren't in the woods watching?"
No, I knew I wouldn't have been able to see Hollister and still stay away. And since Hollister clearly wanted me out of his sight for a bit, I'd gone hunting instead.
"We all took him," Nash said. "Well, everyone but Wyatt and Branson. They stayed with the kids."
I would've liked to have seen that. Nash piled in the car with the mates, everyone doting on Hollister.
Like a punch to the gut, my shame took my breath away. But I could concentrate on how shitty I felt, or I could be comforted by how well my mate was being taken care of. I chose comfort. Out here, it was the only kind I'd see.
"You could make a fire," Nash suggested out of nowhere. "At least then you wouldn't be cold."
I'd thought about it, but as the days marched on, I looked at my time here as a payment, penance. I might not ever be forgiven, but I would always try for it. I shrugged.
With a sigh, Nash pulled out a plastic bag of trail mix. "If you get tired of raw deer…here. It's stale," he grunted, clearly hoping I didn't get the wrong idea from his kindness. "And I spit on a lot of the pieces of chocolate before mixing them back in the bag. That's for trying to kill me and breaking my nose."
That was the first I'd heard of it being broken. His shifter healing would've made sure he hadn't been in pain for too long. I took the bag from Nash. "I'm sor—"
"Don't apologize," he barked. "Breaking my nose was the coolest thing I've ever seen you do. Don't ruin it with remorse."
"I was going to say I'm sorry the mates had to see that. Next time, I'll drag you into the woods first to kick your ass."
Nash took a step back, his eyes widened before narrowing with excitement. "I change my mind. I like the new Aver."
He left me with my trail mix, and I waited until I couldn't hear his footsteps again before peeling the lid off.
There was a lot of chocolate.
***
In the days that followed Nash's visit, I started receiving visitors at least once a day, though not all of them stayed to chat. And not all of them stopped by when I was in that spot.
Every morning I left to rinse in the creek. A few of those times, I'd returned to find food, a new pair of clothes, or some flint for a fire. After the flint, they dropped off matches. Then a lighter. But, other than the basic needs I had to meet in order not to die, I didn't think I deserved comforts, and I never built a fire.
The pointy, hard ground I slept on was a reminder of what I was out here for, as was the crisp air that bit my nose at night. Sometimes, Mr. Boots came out to lay on me. I allowed myself that warmth since it was what the cat wanted.