Page 63 of Noah

“Thanks, Coop,” I said quietly. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Anytime.” He gave me a nod and left the office, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers shaking as I typed a message to Griffin.

Noah: We need to talk. I’ll be home soon.

Then, I texted Jackson. The words came easier, but still felt heavy.

Noah: I’m fine. We’ll talk soon. I promise.

I set my phone down, staring at the screen for a moment before closing my eyes. It wasn’t going to be easy. Nothing about this was going to be easy.

Chapter 17

Jackson

Fifteen,maybe twenty minutes had passed, and I was still standing there, staring at the door Noah had walked out of.

The apartment was silent, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the distant sounds of traffic outside.

My mind kept replaying the moment over and over, trying to make sense of what had happened.

I tried to pinpoint the exact second where everything went wrong.

Noah had asked for the mate mark. I had given it without hesitation. In my mind, it had felt so right, so perfect, like something we had been waiting for our whole lives.

But then—he had panicked. Told me it was too soon. That I should have waited. And now, he was gone.

I felt like the world’s biggest fool. I should have been more patient. Shouldn’t have rushed him. Should have thought before acting.

But how could I, when every instinct in me had screamed that it was time?

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply, trying to push down the frustration rising in my chest.

No. I couldn’t just stand here feeling sorry for myself. I had to fix this.

I grabbed my keys and headed out, locking the apartment behind me. Getting into my car, I drummed my fingers against the wheel, debating where to look first.

Noah wouldn’t have gone far—he needed space, but he wouldn’t leave town. At least, that’s what I told myself.

I drove through the main streets first, checking places I knew he liked to go when he needed time to think. The park. The lake. Even the little bookstore by the café.

Nothing.

My frustration mounted with each stop. I spotted a few of his pack mates in town and pulled over to ask if they’d seen him, but they just shook their heads.

Either they genuinely didn’t know, or Noah had told them to keep quiet.

Eventually, I ended up in front of Griffin’s bar.

If anyone would know where Noah was, it was his brother. But as soon as I stepped inside, I realized the bar was closed.

As I walked back to my car, my phone vibrated in my pocket. My heart leapt—I pulled it out, half-expecting to see Noah’s name on the screen.

It wasn’t him.

Hudson.

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