Page 71 of Baby and the Beast

Casimir hesitated, then stepped back, allowing Nash to enter. The cabin was warm and comfortable—rustic but well-appointed, with a fire crackling in the hearth. A packed duffel sat by the door, ready for his departure.

"You shouldn't be out in the cold," Casimir said, closing the door. "You're still recovering."

"I'm stronger than I look," Nash replied, echoing Casimir's words from earlier. "All shifters heal quickly."

Casimir moved to stand by the fireplace, maintaining his distance. "Why are you here, Nash?"

"I wanted to apologize. For earlier." Nash remained near the door, giving Casimir his space. "I misread the situation. I embarrassed you."

"You didn't," Casimir said gruffly. "There's nothing to apologize for."

"Then why are you still leaving?"

Casimir stared into the fire. "You know why."

Nash took a careful step forward. "Because you think you don't deserve to be happy? Because some wolf alpha convinced you that you're responsible for deaths you didn't cause?"

"It's not that simple."

"No, it's not," Nash agreed. "But it's not as complicated as you're making it, either." He moved closer, stopping when he saw Casimir tense. "Eleven years, Cas. How much longer will be enough?"

"I don't expect you to understand."

"Then help me understand," Nash pleaded. "Because from where I'm standing, I see a good man who saved my life—who saved my daughter's life—and who deserves better than to spend the rest of his days alone on a mountain."

Casimir's jaw worked silently. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with emotion. "I got her pregnant. I didn't... I didn't want to leave the farm. For just a moment, I resented her for forcing me to choose." His hand rose to his scars. "And in that moment, they died."

"That doesn't make you responsible for their deaths."

"Doesn't it?" Casimir turned to face him fully. "If I'd gone with her immediately, if I hadn't hesitated—"

"If your father hadn't pulled the trigger," Nash countered. "If your family had been supportive. If a thousand other things had happened differently." He stepped closer. "You were faced with an impossible choice."

"I made the wrong one.”

Nash stood his ground, refusing to be pushed away again. "You were facing something no teenager should have to deal with."

Casimir's eyes darkened with pain. "That doesn't change what happened."

"No," Nash agreed softly. "It doesn't. But punishing yourself won't bring them back, either."

He took another step closer, close enough now that he could feel the heat radiating from Casimir's body. The scent of pine and snow still clung to him, familiar and comforting.

"What do you want from me?" Casimir asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I want you to stop running," Nash replied simply. "I want you to give yourself permission to live again."

Casimir shook his head, but there was less conviction in the gesture. Nash could see the exhaustion in his eyes—not just physical tiredness, but the bone-deep weariness of carrying guilt for too long.

"When you held Copper," Nash continued, "when you read to her... that wasn't a man who's forgotten how to be human. That was a man who remembers exactly what it means to care for someone."

"Nash—"

"You asked what I want from you," Nash pressed on. "The truth is, I want you. Not because I'm grateful or confused or hormonal. Because in the middle of the worst moment of my life,I found someone who showed me kindness without expecting anything in return."

Without giving himself time to hesitate, Nash raised his hand and gently cupped Casimir's scarred cheek. The touch was feather-light, giving Casimir every opportunity to pull away.

He didn't.

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