Chapter 7
Zaden
My phone buzzed on the nightstand as I walked out of the bathroom connected to my bedroom.
I snatched it up, knowing it was Krystal.
I'd texted her as soon as I woke, like I’d done every day for the past week.
She wasn’t a morning person except for getting her son off to school.
I’d text, then go shower and wait for her reply.
This time, there were a few missed texts from her. I grinned so wide my jaw popped.
She'd sent a meme, then a message.
Morning. I just sent Bryce off to play baseball with his friends, which usually ends up being an all day thing.
So she was kidless today. An idea formed and I replied to her text.
If Bryce is occupied, maybe I could lure you out for a day hike. I’ve been itching to get back on the trails above Stock Creek, and the weather is perfect. Sunny, no rain in the forecast, and the leaves in the mountains are starting to change.
The reply came almost instantly.
Sounds great. Meet at the trailhead in an hour?
The anticipation jolted through me.
It’s a date.
She replied with:
I sent her the exact location, got dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and the boots I’d broken in over a hundred-odd miles of Appalachian mud. I packed us a day bag. Water bottles, trail mix, protein bars, and a first aid kit that I’d never needed but always brought anyway.
My dragon was restless, pacing behind my ribs.
He wanted to show off, to impress her, maybe even scare her a little with how easily I could carry her up a mountain or light a fire.
But wolves didn’t want to be tamed or rescued.
They wanted partnership. Mutual respect.
I could deal with that, but my dragon wanted to show off.
Still, the mate-bond was a stubborn bastard. Even with the curse broken, it pulled at me, demanding more. More time, more connection, more of her. I let myself feel it but kept the reins tight.
I double-checked the pack, then double-checked the weather. I scanned through my phone for any last-minute messages, but there were none.
Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I exited my apartment and locked the door behind me.
The stairwell echoed with my footsteps, and for a second, I remembered the days when every step felt like a countdown to the next decade of hibernation.
Now the world was open, the future unwritten.
I’d earned this freedom, and I wasn’t going to waste it.
I hopped onto my bike and cranked the engine, anticipation building. By the time I reached the trailhead, I was almost vibrating. I parked and waited. The air was crisp, the sky cloudless, and the mountain stretched above me.
I watched the entrance for her car, already rehearsing what I’d say when she arrived. I wanted to play it cool, but who was I kidding? I was hooked, and she knew it.
She arrived five minutes late. Her car was a battered Jeep, the rear window plastered with wolf paw stickers and a faded local radio station decal.
She hopped out, sunglasses perched on top of her head and hair pulled into a high ponytail.
The leather jacket I'd bought her was zipped up halfway.
There was no hiding the smile when she spotted me waiting.
"You look like a park ranger," she said, eyeing my boots and the pack.
"I’m just here to arrest anyone caught littering," I replied, unable to keep the grin off my face. "You ready?"
She glanced at the sky. "Will you carry me back if I can’t make it? Or is this one of those dates where you leave the weak behind for the bears?"
"I would never let you get eaten by a bear," I promised. "Unless it was a really small, adorable bear. And only if you asked nicely."
She snorted and fell into step beside me. I playfully nudged her with my elbow. "I bet your wolf could take a bear."
Shaking her head, she said, "Not me. My uncle Nathan could take a bear. I think the alpha genes skipped over me."
The trail started easily with packed dirt, switchbacks under a green canopy, and birds shouting over each other in the treetops.
The path was empty except for us. I adjusted my pace to match hers.
She moved with the confidence of someone used to covering ground, but her stride was shorter than mine, and her shoes left a shallower print in the occasional mud.
We talked about our weeks and the new gossip currently running through Stock Creek.
I told her about the time Drake tried to deep-fry a whole turkey and nearly took out half of the supposedly fireproof Beck clan with the resulting explosion.
She countered with a story about Bryce supergluing his hand to a science project and trying to hide it for two days.
Every time the path dipped or rose, I offered a hand, and every time, she took it. Her grip was strong. There was no awkwardness in the touch, just a steadying pressure that lingered even after she let go.
About a mile up, the trail grew steeper, and the dirt gave way to slick rock. I went first, then turned and reached for her. She hesitated, then let me hoist her up by the forearms. For a split second, we were chest to chest, her breath quick from the effort, mine caught somewhere in my throat.
"Thanks," she said, brushing the hair from her face.
"Anytime," I replied.
At the overlook, we broke through the last stand of pines. The world opened up, a sheer drop-off revealing the whole valley. The bench at the edge of the clearing was scarred with initials and hearts carved by generations of bored teenagers. I dropped the pack and sat, patting the space beside me.
She dropped down, feet dangling over the rock. We sat for a minute, taking it all in.
I fished out the water bottles and handed her one. She drained half in a single go, wiped her mouth on her sleeve, and handed it back. "The view never gets old. It’s so peaceful up here."
"Worth the hike?"
She shrugged, smiling. "For sure."
We sat in companionable silence. The wind picked up, carrying the sharp scent of distant woodsmoke.
I cleared my throat, weighing what I wanted to say. "I like this. I like you."
She glanced at me warily. "You barely know me."
"I know the difference between something real and something that fills the time." I tried to keep my tone light, but I could hear the crack in it.
She looked away, pulling her knees to her chest. "I’m not good at this."
"At what? Hiking?"
"Letting people in." She picked at a loose thread in her jeans. "I’m always waiting for the catch."
"There’s no catch," I said. "Just me, being a dumbass and hoping you’ll say you want this, too."
She shook her head, but she was smiling. "You’re impossible."
"Dragon trait," I said. "Stubbornness runs in the family. In the species, really."
She rested her chin on her knees and was quiet for a while. "I do want this," she said, so softly I almost missed it. "But I need to go slow. For Bryce." She glanced over at me. "And for me."
I nodded, trying not to look too relieved. "Slow is good."
She reached over and squeezed my hand, then let go just as quickly.
"You hungry?" I asked and she nodded eagerly. I pulled out the trail mix, and we ate, both of us tossing the raisins into the woods and fighting over the peanut M&M’s. She accused me of hoarding the chocolate. I accused her of being a squirrel instead of a wolf. The mood lightened.
Her phone rang, and she glanced at the screen. "I'm surprised I get service up here. It’s Bryce," she said, standing and pacing a few feet away for privacy.
I watched her as she answered, the way her whole posture shifted. Shoulders back, her voice softer, every ounce of her focused on the call.
"Hey, sweetheart. You okay?" Pause. "Where did it hit you?
" Another pause, her brow furrowing. "Oh, baby.
Did it break the skin? Are you bleeding?
" She crouched, as if she could get closer to her son through sheer will.
"Okay, listen. Take a deep breath. Remember what we practiced? In for four, out for eight. Good boy."
I just could hear a faint, watery sniffle on the other end. She kept her tone gentle but firm, coaxing him through it. "It’s gonna sting for a bit, but you’re a tough wolf. Do you want me to come get you?"
She listened, then smiled. "I knew you’d tough it out. Tell Nathan to ice it, and I’ll look at it when I get home. I love you, pumpkin."
She ended the call and stood, tucking her phone back in her pocket. There was a look on her face. Something fierce and tender, the kind of love that would punch a hole in the world if it meant keeping her kid safe.
"He’s okay?" I asked.
She nodded. "Took a ball to the elbow. He’s fine, but he wanted to hear my voice."
"That’s a good kid."
She smiled, pride and guilt warring in her eyes. "He’s my whole world."
I wanted to ask about his dad but didn’t dare. She'd tell me when she was ready.
We lingered at the overlook until the shadows started to stretch. On the way back down, she slipped once on the rocks, and I caught her by the waist. She steadied but didn’t let go of my hand after.
At the parking lot, we paused by her car. She unlocked it, but didn’t get in.
"I had fun," she said. "Thank you."
I leaned in, heart thudding, but kept it light. "Anytime."
She looked at me, searching for something, then I said, "There’s a thing tonight. At the Beck house. Chance is out of hibernation, finally."
She nodded. "Can I think about it and let you know in a few hours when I figure out what Bryce is doing tonight? But it would just be me. Not Bryce. He doesn’t meet the men I date unless it’s serious."
I nodded, respecting the line she drew in the sand. "I get it. He’s lucky to have you."
She laughed, then reached up and kissed my cheek. "See you tonight, maybe."
I watched her drive away, taillights winking out as she turned. Tonight. Maybe.