Page 59 of Hunter Moon

His hand floated to my arm, almost like he couldn’t help himself, but his fingers were gentle as he stroked the back of it, cupped my elbow. “Good. I want you to have what you need.”

My breath caught. I nodded. And if I didn’t get away right then, I was going to spend my whole heat inside his Mustang.

“This. It’s great. Really. Thank you. I’ll, um, text you. Soon. For sure.” I rocked back on my heels and grinned at him. “I’m fine.”

From his frown, I wasn’t fooling him any more than I’d fooled myself, but I double-timed it back to my truck and put the supplies in the seat behind me.

I’d feel better once I was somewhere familiar, closed off from everything, away from Aspen’s wide, worried eyes trying to promise me the world.

* * *

Okay,so it’d probably come as no surprise that I was fooling myself. I got home, made myself a tea, and set myself up at the end of my bed to play a farming game and try to forget the way my skin felt too hot and tight, the way even the breeze from my bedroom fan was too much on my sensitive skin.

At dinner, I tried to pretend that everything was normal, but I was practically vibrating out of my skin. Shiloh was at work, so Mom cooked dinner—tons of carbs. And that apple cheesecake. I wanted to save a piece for Aspen, but I didn’t know when I’d seen him again.

Thing was, Mom cooked like that because she knew, they all knew, that I was going into heat. I’d need to keep my strength up.

So Harmony cut me an extra big piece of cheesecake. Mom kept making sure my water glass was full. Neither one of them said anything particular about it, but I thought that was because, well, this was hard.

My post-Aspen, pre-Reid heat ritual had been avoiding talking about it specifically, accepting that it’d be a little disappointing. But in a house full of omegas, especially Mom, who’d lost her mate, and Harmony, who’d never much liked alphas to begin with, nobody made a big deal about it. If I wanted to be left alone, they’d accepted that was the right thing to do.

Only now, I wasn’t sure what the right thing was. I was scared, and I didn’t want to put that on them. I didn’t want to ask them for more. I didn’t want them to see how hurt I was, because they loved me, and that’d hurt them in its own way.

So I did what I always did, and retreated after dinner with a big glass of water, a tight smile, and my usual assurances that I’d be fine every time they offered me anything to help.

That evening was okay, but when the sun went down and everyone went to bed, the house was silent. The shadows got larger. Every scrape of a tree branch against the house’s siding became the long, dirty claws of Maxim Reid, dragging against the walls as he whispered my name and promised he was coming to find me.

Tea didn’t help. Going into the living room, where the windows were bigger and the door to the outside world wasright thereonly made me feel exposed.

In the morning, my mom knocked on the door to bring me a glass of water and found me curled into the corner of my bed, pressed against the wall, shaking.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her sigh was soft and broken and she moved slowly into the room so she didn’t scare me worse.

When I took the glass from her, I drank, willing my hands not to tremble and the scent of my fear, closed up for so long, to disperse quickly. It was too late—my mom knew me better than that.

She sat on the edge of my bed and reached over to push my dark, sweaty hair off my forehead. “I hate you’re hurt,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry.” It came out before I thought about it, and at once, she started shaking her head.

“You don’t have a thing in the world to be sorry for, baby. I just hate it for you.”

Against my cheek, her fingers were cool. I pushed into them, desperate for any sort of touch, even if I wanted a bigger, more callused hand.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

I shook my head, ducking so my chin pressed against my knees.

“What about Aspen? You could have him here. You know your sisters and I don’t care.” That was the thing about a house full of omegas—whatever we needed to do to get through our heats, everybody understood and gave us space. There wasn’t any grimacing or complaining about it. It was just a thing, and giving someone a little grace while they were going through it only meant that when it was your turn, they’d return the favor.

I sighed. “I can’t. I’m—It’s not like it used to be,” I mumbled against my knees.

Mom scowled at me. “You mean because you smell scared? You’re not as comfortable as you were before he left? Sweetie, of course it’s not the same. A lot’s changed, and he made some big mistakes. But if him being here would make you feel safe, would give you some relief, you should ask him. Even if he’d just be here to hold your hand and protect you, he’d want to do that. That boy’s not going to ask you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know that.” I did. Aspen wasn’t like Maxim. Even when he’d left, he hadn’t meant to hurt me. But— “What if I’m not perfect?”

It was a silly question—no one was—but with my head buzzing, my temperature ratcheting up, all I could think was that if I was too big an inconvenience, Aspen would leave me again. Before, I’d had too many responsibilities, not enough time for him, and he’d disappeared without a trace. I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted him there, with me. And I wanted significantly more than his hand in mine.

But Mom didn’t laugh at me. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled and she cupped my cheek, her palm a firm press against my skin. “You never were perfect, baby. And he sure as hell isn’t. None of us are, but you’ve got to know that when you need or even just want something, it’s okay for you to ask for it. The people who love you are going to want to give it to you if they can. So if you want Aspen here, for the Morgan house, you’ve got permission to ask him, okay? Even if Harmony growls at him, even if I want to kick his ass a little—none of that matters as much as knowing you feel safe and happy and cared for.”

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