13. Calder #2
“Fair point.” Her fingers were playing with the hair at the nape of my neck, a gentle touch that made me want to purr like a damn cat. “So. Real?”
“You have to ask?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
I pulled back just enough to look at her properly. To see her face, her eyes, the soft vulnerability that she was letting me see for the first time.
“Real,” I said. “More real than anything I've felt in seven years. More real than I thought I could feel anymore.” I brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucked it behind her ear.
Let my fingers trail down the side of her neck, feeling her pulse jump under my touch.
“I've wanted you since the beginning, Noa.
And I'm going to keep wanting you for a very long time.”
Her eyes went bright. Wet. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears, and I felt my heart crack open at the sight.
“Hey.” I cupped her face in both hands, tilting it up to mine. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong.” She laughed, watery and overwhelmed. “Everything's right. That's the problem. I didn't expect... I didn't think...”
“Didn't think what?”
“That it would feel like this with all of you.” She reached up to grip my wrists, her fingers warm against my skin.
“I was afraid, after Shepherd. I was afraid it was just him.
Just some connection I had with one person, and when I kissed you it would feel different.
Less. Like I'd been fooling myself into thinking I could have this.”
“And?”
“And it doesn't feel less.” Her voice cracked. “It feels like more. Like different parts of the same thing. Like you're all...” She struggled for words. “Like you're all exactly what I need, just in different ways.”
I didn't know what to say to that. Didn't have the words to express what it meant to hear her say that, to know that whatever she felt for Shepherd, whatever she might feel for Bo, it didn't diminish what she felt for me. It existed alongside it. Equal and different and real.
So I kissed her again instead. Soft this time. Tender. The kind of kiss that said things I couldn't find words for.
When we broke apart, she was smiling. A real smile, warm and bright, the kind that transformed her whole face into something radiant.
“There's still Bo,” she said.
“I know.”
“I need to talk to him too. Before I can be completely sure.”
“I know.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead, let my lips linger there for a moment. “Go. Find him. Do what you need to do.”
“You're not jealous?”
I considered the question. Examined my feelings the way Shepherd would, looking for any trace of possessiveness or resentment.
“No,” I said, and I was surprised to find it was true.
“What you feel for them doesn't take anything away from what you feel for me. And what I feel for you...” I paused, trying to find the right words.
“It's not about owning you. It's about being part of your life. Being someone you can count on. Being there when you need me.” I tucked another strand of hair behind her ear.
“If having Bo and Shepherd in your life makes you happy, then I'm glad.
I want you to be happy, Noa. That's all I want.”
She stared at me for a long moment, something shifting in her expression. Wonder, maybe. Or disbelief. Like she'd never had anyone say something like that to her before.
“You're not what I expected,” she whispered.
“What did you expect?”
“I don't know. Something rougher. More demanding.” She traced her fingers along my jaw, learning the shape of me. “You're so big, and so gruff, and everyone talks about you like you're this intimidating figure who keeps to himself. But you're not like that at all, are you?”
“I can be.” I caught her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm. “When I need to be. When someone I care about is threatened.” I met her eyes. “But with you? I just want to take care of you. Keep you warm. Make sure you're fed and safe and happy.” I smiled slightly. “That's not very intimidating, is it?”
“No.” She smiled back, soft and real. “It's better.”
She leaned up and kissed me one more time, sweet and lingering. Then she slid off the workbench, steadying herself with a hand on my chest.
“I should go find Bo,” she said. “Before I lose my nerve.”
“You won't lose your nerve.” I smoothed down the collar of the coat she was wearing. My coat. The sight of her in it still did something to me, something warm and possessive and achingly tender. “You're the bravest person I know.”
She laughed. “I'm really not.”
“You are.” I tucked her hair behind her ear one more time, just because I could.
Just because she was letting me. “You walked through a blizzard on a broken ankle.
You survived hypothermia. You've spent two weeks with three alphas you don't know and never once backed down or let us intimidate you.” I held her gaze.
“That's not nothing, Noa. That's everything.”
Her eyes went bright again, but she blinked the tears back before they could fall. “You're going to make me cry again.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you're not.”
“No,” I admitted. “I'm not.”
She laughed, shaking her head, and moved toward the door. Then she stopped, looked back over her shoulder.
“Calder?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.” Her voice was soft. Sincere. “For being patient. For giving me time to figure this out. For not pushing me before I was ready.”
“I'd wait forever if that's what you needed.”
She smiled, and it was like watching the sun come out after a storm. Warm and bright and full of promise.
“I don't think you'll have to wait that much longer,” she said.
Then she was gone, slipping out into the cold afternoon, leaving me alone with the woodchips and sawdust and the lingering scent of rain and honeysuckle.
I stood there for a long moment, just breathing. Just letting myself feel everything I'd been holding back.
She'd kissed me. She'd chosen me. And when she looked at me, she didn't see the failure I saw in the mirror every morning. She saw someone brave. Someone worth caring about. Someone who could give her what she needed.
I wasn't sure I believed it yet. Wasn't sure I deserved it.
But I was going to spend every day trying to be the man she thought I was.
I picked up the axe and went back to work. But this time, when I swung, there was no weight in my chest. No darkness dragging at my heels. Just the clean, simple rhythm of physical labor, and the warmth of knowing that somewhere in that cabin, there was a woman who wanted me.
Who'd chosen me.
Who'd looked at all my rough edges and decided I was worth keeping anyway.
Lift. Swing. Crack.
I was smiling. I couldn't seem to stop.