Page 29 of The (Maybe) Murderer Who Knocked Me Up

“Yes. I just thought… I’m half grizzly shifter. We only fall in love once. I figured I’d given my heart to you already.”

“Really?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I want to gather him into my arms and kiss him. I just don’t know what he wants. He clearly regrets putting his paws on me.

I’m probably his biggest mistake.

“I should have told you,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Slade, I put paws on you without asking first, and I didn’t even tell you. I have plenty to be sorry for.”

God, it takes every ounce of self-control I have to not kiss him again.

“No. You… chose me.” Emotion gathers in my throat, and I worry I’m going to cry too. “I’m sorry I messed everything up.”

“You didn’t know. You were just trying to protect your brother, right?” He shrinks a little, like he’s afraid of me, and why wouldn’t he be? I wish I could tell Quin everything. If he knew that I didn’t kill anyone, maybe that would make a difference to him. But what if he let it slip to someone–someone like his brothers who might tell the cops.

Jake would never survive Sciff. I can’t take the risk.

“I thought he was killing my brother.” It’s the same lie I told the police that night in the warehouse.

“And so you got mad?” Quin asks.

“I was just trying to save him.” At least this part is true. I hope Quin can see that.

Quin wrings his hands nervously. “Have you ever hurt someone like that before? In high school, they said you went to jail.”

“I went to a different foster home for a while. Georgina got caught up in some legal trouble because of something stupid her nephew did, and I had to be moved until she was cleared.”

“Oh. I shouldn’t have assumed?—”

“It’s okay. I’ve never hit someone who didn’t hit me first, Quin. Not ever.”

He searches my face. I don’t know if he believes me.

“What happens now that you’ve put your paws on me?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Our connection was supposed to fade a long time ago. That’s what happens to people who put their hands on someone and a bond doesn’t properly form.”

Hope surges in my chest. “Maybe our bond is just forming more slowly.”

“No,” Quin says. “If a bond was forming, I’d know it.”

“How?”

“I would start my collection.”

I still don’t follow. “What do you mean collection?”

“Raccoon shifters collect beautiful things when their bond is forming, and they display those things all over their house as a celebration of their love.” He looks away from me. “Or they collect beautiful things after their heart has mended from a bond that never formed. It’s a way of moving on. I haven’t collected anything yet.”

So we haven’t bonded and Quin hasn’t been able to move on. I’ve held his heart hostage for six years.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “What should we do now?”

He lowers his gaze to my lips. “I don’t know.”

---