Page 72 of The Strongest Wolf

Tell him how you feel, Sierra. Just tell him.

I fix my gaze on a tree in the distance and force myself to say the words. “You weren’t the only one too distracted to focus.”

As the silence extends, I hold my breath and wait for his response. “I nearly turned back more times than I can count.”

“I wish I’d gone with you.” The words burst out before I can stop them, quiet and too fast, but even if I’d whispered them, Galen still would have heard me.

But I’m glad I said them.

Clothes rustle and the mattress springs are so loud that I know he must be getting up. “You do?”

“I do.”

“I can turn back.” Floorboards creak as he moves around.

Alarmed that he’s ready to do just that, I sit up a little straighter. “You’ve been driving for hours. Don’t turn back. Your pack needs you.”

“But I need you.”

His soft words have me gripping the phone so tight it’s a wonder I don’t crush it to pieces. “I lied about the list,” I whisper.

He releases a slow, controlled breath. “It hasn’t gotten shorter at all? Or there are things on the list that will never leave it?”

“There isn’t a list.”

Galen doesn’t speak for so long that if I couldn’t hear his slightly too-fast breaths in my ear, I’d have thought he’d hung up. And then floorboards creak. “I’m coming back to get you.”

I recall Dexter when he put me in his truck and told me I’d find a new life—a better life—waiting for me in Upstate New York with his pack, while he stayed behind to finish my years-long revenge mission.

Back then, it was me turning back so I could fight by his side, and now he’s the one ready to turn his truck around and drive six or more hours because he needs me.

A door creaks open.

Happiness floods me at his quiet words, but I can’t let him do it. “No.” I feel like my wolf is holding her breath, just as I am, because I can’t believe what’s about to come out of my mouth. But there’s never been a moment when a decision has felt as right as this one does. “I’ll come to you. Your pack needs its alpha.”

“And an alpha needs his Luna,” he says, sounding hesitant.

That’s when I know he’s expecting me to hang up or change the subject.

I swallow hard. “Maybe we could talk about that when I get there.”

“What else would we talk about?” he asks, his voice so low he can’t be drawing enough air into his lungs.

I pause.

All this time I’ve been concerned with what Galen’s pack thinks, whether they’ll like me or accept or hate me. I haven’t once considered what I think, and what Galen thinks. He loves me. I’m sure of it, just as I love him.

If his pack doesn’t think I’m perfect Luna material? They’re right, I’m not. But it doesn’t matter. They don’t need to love me, or even like me. The only one I care about is Galen.

I want to be with him, and he wants to be with me. That’s all that matters to me. It’s all thatshouldhave mattered to me.

Tell him, Sierra.

After a long moment, I clear my throat. “Maybe about how we keep using the wrong l-word.”

He releases a slow breath. “Sierra, baby, you keep spitting out words that are making me more determined to turn this truck around—fuck sleep, fuck the pack—and go to you.”

“No.” My voice is soft at first, still unsure. “No, you need to keep going. I’ll come to you.”

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