Chapter 47
Carson
I should not be finding one damn redeeming thing about this psychopath.
But here I am, standing on a Manhattan sidewalk, watching a guy I’ve threatened, pinned, and wanted to punch more times than I can count…and all I can think is—
Fuck.
There’s something about the way he looks at her. Like she’s holy. Untouchable. Like he’d crawl through glass and hellfire just to be near her.
And she lets him.
Willow isn’t flinching. Isn’t guarding herself. Her whole posture is open, giving him space to speak, to breathe, to be something other than the monster we’ve painted him as.
I want to shove him into traffic.
But not because I think she’s in danger.
Because there’s a part of me—a quiet, uncomfortable part—that gets it.
He’s unhinged. But not wrong. Not about her. Not about needing her. I can see it now. I should know. I’m living it.
They don’t touch, and somehow it’s worse. Because shit got emotional in the middle of a New York City sidewalk—deep and raw and real. There’s no hiding from it. No pretending that this thing between them is anything less than soul-level.
And it makes something ugly twist in my chest. Because I get it, I feel it too.
I wonder, for one stupid second, if I would’ve made the same choices he did—if I’d been locked away, forgotten, and erased.
If Graham hadn’t found me. Saved me. Given me a way out. Sure, I still have some emotional damage and drop back into my sarcasm when tension rises, but it’s all protection. But without Graham, maybe I would have turned out different.
Would I be like Finn?
Would I be worse?
He says nothing now, just stands there staring at her as though she’s gravity and he’s been weightless for too long. And if she turns away, he’ll start to float again—untethered. Alone.
And I can’t help but think…he might be right.
Because Willow? She has this power. She sees people in ways they don’t expect. In ways they need. There’s something about her that draws you in, captures your heart, and holds you hostage.
I clear my throat, needing to break the spell before it pulls me in too. “We should go.”
My voice is more gravel than sound, rougher than I meant it to be. She flinches slightly—forgetting I’m here—which stings, if I’m being honest. But then she turns to look at me, those wide eyes searching, uncertain.
“Okay,” she says softly.
No fight. No sass. Just…quiet agreement.
And that makes me itch even more.
Finn doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. But his eyes flick to mine, and there’s no challenge there. Not this time.
Only…acceptance.
He knows he won’t win this round, and he’s letting her go because he cares. And he knows she will be back. I step toward her, resting my hand lightly on the small of her back, not because I have to guide her. But because I need to touch her. To remind both of us that she’s still here. With me.
As we walk away, her steps slow for half a second. I don’t ask why.
I already know. She’s thinking about turning back to him. About breaking my rules.
My fingers flex against her lower back, but I don’t say a word to stop her—not if that’s what she decides. My heart pounds as I wait, silent, giving her space to choose.
Then she looks over her shoulder, her gaze lingering. One second. Two. A breath caught in time.
“I’ll see you soon,” she says.
It’s a promise. Soft. Certain.
And I know I’ll help her keep it. Because I’ve already dug myself too deep. I’m not sure there’s a way out of this that doesn’t end with us pulling Finn Reed into our pack.
If we want to keep her? We might have to keep him, too.
She’s quiet as we walk.
I don’t push.
I just keep my hand at the small of her back, steering her through the scattered crowd. The city’s always loud, but the space between us feels hushed.
Willow finally glances up at me, one brow arched. “You’re not going to lecture me? About acknowledging him? Going to him?”
I smirk. “Should I?”
“Maybe,” she says, eyes sparkling up at me and her mouth tilting into a smirk of her own. “You’re good at being bossy, remember?”
“Yeah,” I chuckle, “but tonight you followed the rules.”
She gives me a look—dry and full of sarcasm. “Barely.”
I hum. “Close enough. I was with you. It was in public. So controlled and safe-ish.”
We walk a few more paces in silence, our steps syncing naturally. Her shoulder brushes mine, and I feel it everywhere.
“You did good,” I say eventually, surprising even myself. “Back there with him. I don’t think he gets a lot of kindness.”
Her head tilts toward me. “That almost sounds like approval.”
I shrug. “Don’t get used to it.”
She grins at that, looking away to hide how much it matters.
“Peaches?”
She hums in response, not looking back at me.
I inhale. Screw it. Say the quiet part out loud, Carson.
“I’m falling for you. Full-on, head-first in love.”
She freezes mid-step. Turns to face me fully. “What?”
I scratch the back of my neck, suddenly restless, my heart hammering. “You heard me.”
She doesn’t speak, so I keep going. “My pack—we all are. Falling for you.”
Her lips part, just slightly. Her perfume shifts in the air between us, soft and sweet and vulnerable.
“And I know,” I add, voice softer now, “I know that you’ve been hurt, by Landon…that you’re still healing. And I know how you look at Finn. That it’s more than what any of us expected. I see it. And I don’t blame you.”
Willow swallows, her throat working. “Carson…”
“I’m not saying it to make you feel guilty,” I say quickly, stepping closer.
“Or to get a response, I just needed to say it out loud. Because this thing—whatever it is between you and me—it’s not just lust. Not anymore.
And most of the time I hide from emotion, but I don’t want to do that with you. ”
Her lashes flutter, and when she finally meets my gaze, I see the war behind her eyes.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispers.
“Neither do I,” I admit. “But I know I want to keep doing it—with you.”
Her breath catches.
“Besides,” I add, leaning in just enough to make her pulse jump, “I’m very good at sharing.”
That earns me a breathy laugh, soft and unsure—but it’s a sound I’d kill to hear again.
We keep walking.
Together.
And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.