Page 7 of The Gamma's Second Chance

Rachel shakes her head and looks up at me, taking a small step closer to the door, away from me. “It’s better this way, Nolan.”

“Better what way? What do you mean?”

She sighs. “I’m not coming back to California for… a while. I have a really big job I just booked for a pack back east, remodeling their entire packhouse, and I don’t know how long itwill take. But it was the impetus I needed to rip the Band-Aid off and quit you cold turkey.”

I flinch back as her words hit me like tiny splinters of shattered glass, each one slicing into me with surprising force. “Quit me?”

“Yes.”

I frown at her and cross my arms. “I’m not a drug, Rachel.”

“This isn’t healthy, though. What we’re doing. We’re not together, not chosen mates or even boyfriend and girlfriend. We rarely speak when I’m gone, and yet somehow on the rare occasion I visit, I end up in your bed again almost every night. And it can’t continue. Not anymore.”

My jaw ticks as my teeth grind together, and I stare at her, pushing down the rising anxiety that has been a near-constant companion for the last seven years. It’s usually buried deep under the surface, but it always lurks and waits for moments like this, moments when my insecurities all come rushing back, when my routine and my stability are threatened.

The silence stretches between us, my heart climbing into my throat. I swallow against it repeatedly, working to push it back into its proper place and hide that I’m struggling to breathe. There has to be something—anything—I can do to rectify this situation.

I can’t go through this. Not again.

Rachel’s face softens, and her fingers twitch against her forearm, like she’s thinking of reaching for me, but she stays still and grips her arm instead. “I’m sorry, Nolan. I am. But—”

“Wait,” I say, holding up a finger, running my hand over my short hair, and pinching my lips together. “Just… wait. Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”

I race up the stairs and back into my bedroom, rummaging through the top drawer of my dresser and snatching up the small black box, the box with the yellow, square cut, solitaire diamond ring inside it. The ring I’ve had for longer than I should admit,but for whatever reason, never worked up the courage to give to her. I sprint down the stairs and stand right in front of her, heart racing and shoulders heaving as I hold the box out to her, lid open so she can see the ring.

“I know rings aren’t really a thing for shifters since we can’t wear them. But I want you to be my chosen mate, Rachel,” I say, watching her for her reaction.

She just stares at it, her face blank. Nothing passes over her features or flickers in her eyes, and she makes no move to take the ring out of the box. “How?” she asks, her eyes still on the ring.

My brows furrow, and I blink at her in confusion. Not the reaction I expected. “How?”

Her eyes never leave the box in my hand. “How would we make it work? I live in Boston. I have a job there. An amazing job where I am making a name for myself, bringing in high-paying clients, sometimes even celebrities, who want me to design their new homes or remodel their current homes.”

My heart rises into my throat again. This isn’t working. I’m failing. I’m going to be left all alone. Again.

“You could do that here, too,” I say. “You could move back here, to California. There are plenty of families with money here, people who would be willing to pay you to do the same thing on this coast instead of that coast.”

“Or you could move to Boston with me,” she says.

I struggle to keep my eyes from rolling and to keep the growl of frustration out of my voice. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because of Hav—”

“Haven. Exactly.” She shakes her head. “You do realize that’s what this all always boils down to? The reason I drifted away from you and looked for new jobs, the reason we fell apart in thefirst place? Because of your inability to let anyone else protect her.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s not fair, Rachel. You know that’s not true.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“No.” But even as I say the words, even as I utter them with complete conviction and insistence, she and I both know I’m not convincing anyone.

“Then move to Boston with me. Tell Wesley and Haven they need to find someone to replace you as her gamma.”

My jaw ticks, and I swallow, looking down at the floor. Even the suggestion has my wolf on edge, his lips curling into a snarl. He and I both know there is no one else who can do the job like we can. She’s too important to us, and not just as our luna. She’s family to me. The little sister I never had. The thought of leaving her in someone else’s care, under someone else’s protection, is equally nauseating as the rising anxiety I have from knowing Rachel is leaving me for good this time.

“I can’t,” I say, raising my head to meet Rachel’s brown eyes.

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