Page 30 of Falling for My Shifter Defender

The realization hits me with startling clarity. Somewhere along the way, Eli has become as essential to me as Willow. The thought should terrify me—I've spent years believing that attachments are dangerous, that loving someone means giving the world a weapon to use against you. But instead, it fills me with a warm certainty.

As we walk back to the truck, Willow skipping ahead of us, I turn to Eli. The words stick in my throat, almost impossible to say after years of keeping everyone at a distance.

"You were right," I finally manage, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't have to run anymore."

His eyes meet mine, warm and steady. There's no triumph in his expression, just quiet understanding. I help Willow into the backseat, making sure she's buckled in before turning back to Eli.

For a moment, I hesitate. The old fear whispers that this is dangerous, that caring for someone means giving them the power to hurt you. But for once, I don't listen. Instead, I reach for his hand, my fingers trembling slightly as they find his.

"Come home with us?" The question is soft, vulnerable. A leap of faith.

His smile unfolds slowly, lighting his entire face. "Always," he says, squeezing my hand. "For as long as you want me there."

Chapter 11

Eli

The morning sun filters through the trees as I pull my truck into the Whispering Pines community center parking lot. Beside me, Grace fidgets with the strap of Willow's overnight bag, her knuckles white with tension. In the back seat, Willow bounces with excitement, rattling off everything she plans to do at the sleepover.

"And Ms. Hannah said we're going to make s'mores, and tell ghost stories, but not too scary ones, and we get to sleep in sleeping bags in the big room with the stars on the ceiling!"

I catch Grace's eye and give her a reassuring smile. This is the first time she's letting Willow spend the night away from her since they arrived in Whispering Pines. It's a small step, but a significant one.

"Sounds like you're going to have the best time, kiddo," I say, turning to wink at Willow in the rearview mirror.

Grace takes a deep breath. "You have your toothbrush? And Mr. Flopsy?"

"Yes, Grace," Willow sighs with the exasperation only a seven-year-old can muster. "You already checked three times."

I stifle a laugh as we climb out of the truck. Hannah greets us at the door, her warm smile immediately putting Grace at ease. I watch as she kneels down to Willow's level, chatting animatedly about the weekend's activities.

"We've got six other kids joining us," Hannah tells Grace. "All from the pack families. Jenna's helping me supervise, and Ryan will be checking in throughout the night." She gives Grace a knowing look. "I promise, this place will be more secure than Fort Knox."

Willow barely waits for Grace to finish hugging her before she's racing inside to join the other children. Grace stands at the doorway, her hand raised in a frozen wave.

"She'll be okay," I murmur, squeezing her shoulder.

"I know," Grace says, but her voice wavers. "It's just... it's the first time since—"

"Since you started running," I finish for her. Her eyes meet mine, vulnerable and uncertain. "You're not running anymore, Grace. And neither is she."

She nods, inhaling deeply. "You're right."

As we walk back to the truck, I take her hand. Her fingers are cold despite the warm spring air, and I rub my thumb across her knuckles, feeling the slight tremor there.

"I have something to show you," I say casually as we climb into the cab.

Grace raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Trust me," I reply, starting the engine.

I drive us away from town, past the Whispering Pines pack territory and toward the expansive land Adrian purchased forthe sanctuary. We pass the construction site where crews are installing security fencing, then continue beyond the temporary administration buildings where Sawyer runs daily patrols. The truck bounces over the uneven forest road, winding through stands of ancient pines until we reach the clearing we visited weeks ago. But I don't stop there. I continue driving along a narrower path that follows the edge of the pine forest.

"Where are we going?" Grace asks, curiosity replacing the anxiety in her voice.

"You'll see."

Finally, we emerge onto a rise overlooking a stream. The land stretches out before us, dappled with sunlight filtering through the tall pines. Wooden stakes with bright orange flags mark the perimeter of what looks like a construction site.

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