Chapter 37
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
The dim light of Laney's apartment cast long shadows across the half-packed boxes scattered across the floor. Her curtains hung half-drawn, allowing just enough moonlight to illuminate the disarray of clothes tossed on chairs and research papers strewn about. A mournful melody played from her small radio, underlining the heaviness in the air.
Laney moved mechanically, folding a sweater before placing it in an open suitcase. Her hands trembled slightly as she worked, her mind replaying the disaster at the town council meeting. Flint's smug face appeared in her thoughts, followed by the dismissive expressions of the council members. The shame burned fresh in her memory.
“They never believed me,” she whispered to the empty room. “Just like before.”
It was her previous job all over again, except this time, the stakes were higher. This time, she'd foolishly allowed herself to care about the town, the brewery, and most dangerously, about Max.
Laney moved to her desk where stacks of lab notebooks were neatly arranged. She picked them up one by one. Years of work, of passion, of hoping to make a difference, all going into storage or trash. Her finger traced the careful notes on water contamination, the evidence she'd meticulously gathered that no one wanted to hear.
“So many times I tried to help,” she murmured, closing the notebook with finality. “But each time, I was branded 'overreactive.' I'm done.”
The decision to quit the Bright Institute had come easily after tonight. Science had been her refuge, her way of proving her worth when her inability to shift had made her feel less than whole. But what good was being right if no one would listen? What value did her research have if it couldn't help the people she'd grown to care about?
The thought of Max threatened to unravel her resolve. His kind eyes, his unwavering support, the way he looked at her as if she was perfect just as she was. For a moment, doubt crept in. Was she making a mistake by leaving him behind?
She shook her head firmly. No. She couldn't bear another disappointment. Max might think he wanted her now, but eventually, he would realize what everyone else seemed to know. That she wasn't enough. That a bear shifter of his stature deserved better than a half-shifter who couldn't even fully transform. A sudden knock at the door made her jump. She froze, listening.
“Laney?” Max's voice called from the hallway. “I know you're in there. Please open up.”
She crept silently to the door, peering through the peephole. Max stood there, shoulders slumped, clutching a bouquet of roses. His face was etched with worry, his usual confidence replaced by unmistakable fear. The sight made her chest constrict painfully, but she stayed silent, one hand pressed against the door.
“Laney, please,” he called again, knocking more firmly. “Your car's still here. I can hear your music playing. Just talk to me. Don't walk away like this.”
His voice cracked on the last words, and she closed her eyes, feeling tears well up again. She pressed her forehead against the cool wood of the door, torn between her desire to flee from more pain and the magnetic pull she felt toward him.
“I'm begging you,” Max said, softer now. “Please don't shut me out.”
The raw emotion in his voice broke through her defenses. With a shaky breath, Laney unlocked the door and pulled it open, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. Max stepped inside, his sharp intake of breath telling her he'd noticed the boxes, the emptied shelves, the clear signs of her imminent departure. He set the roses down on a nearby table and moved toward her, arms opening to embrace her.
Laney took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. “Don't,” she whispered.
“What are you doing?” Max asked, gesturing to the packed boxes. “You're leaving? Just like that?”
“I can't stay here,” Laney said, her voice thin and brittle. “You saw what happened tonight. They laughed at me, Max. They dismissed everything I found, everything I worked for.”
“That doesn't mean you run away,” Max said, his voice gentle but firm.
“Doesn't it?” Anger flashed through her grief. “No one believed me. No one ever does. I tried so hard, and I'm just... I'm done fighting.”
“I believe you,” Max said simply. “I've always believed you.”
“It's not enough,” Laney replied, wiping at the tears that threatened to fall. “One person can't stand against an entire town. Against people like Flint who will always have more power, more influence.”
Max took a step toward her, and when she didn't back away, he took another. “You're wrong,” he said. “One person can make all the difference. You already have.”
Before Laney could respond, Max suddenly dropped to one knee before her. The unexpected gesture stopped her mid-breath.
“What are you doing?” she asked, confusion momentarily replacing her anguish.
“Laney,” Max said, looking up at her with such intensity it made her heart stutter. “I love you more than life itself. You are everything to me. Your brilliance, your determination, your heart. Please be my mate. Let me claim you properly.”
Laney stared at him, speechless. Of all the scenarios she'd imagined for tonight, this had never crossed her mind.
“The changing bite,” Max continued, reaching for her hand. “I want to give you that gift. I want to be connected to you in every way possible.”
At the mention of the changing bite, memories crashed over Laney like a wave. Her father's stern face as a young Laney had begged him to help her shift fully. “You're not a full shifter, Laney. Your mother is human. You should be content with who you are.”
Her siblings had snickered in the background. One had muttered, “You'll never be a real fox.”
The memory stung as fresh as if it had happened yesterday, not decades ago. The longing she'd carried all her life, to be whole, to belong fully to one world instead of partially to two, surged through her with painful clarity.
“Max,” she breathed, barely audible. “You don't understand what you're offering.”
“I do,” he insisted. “I understand exactly what it means. And I want you, Laney. All of you. I want to give you the gift that should have been yours all along.”
Tears streamed down her face now, unchecked. She reached down, grasping his forearms and gently pulling him to his feet. She couldn't bear to see him kneeling before her, offering everything she'd ever wanted when she felt so broken. They stood facing each other, a charged silence filling the space between them. Max waited, patient, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Yes,” Laney finally said through her tears. “I want to be your mate.”
Relief flooded his features, and he pulled her close, enveloping her in his warmth. She cried harder, but this time from a strange mixture of relief and hope, allowing herself for the first time in years to believe that perhaps she could belong somewhere, with someone.
“I'll protect you,” Max murmured against her hair. “I'll protect this land. I'll make all of it right. I promise.” The fierceness in his voice, the absolute certainty, gave Laney courage.
“There's a cabin,” Max said after a long moment, still holding her close. “In the woods, away from everything. We could go there, just the two of us. Light a fire, cook a simple meal. No one to bother us, no judgments, no Flint. Just us.”
Laney pulled back slightly, looking up at him. The tension in her body had begun to ease, the dark cloud of despair lifting just enough for her to see a way forward. A secluded cabin, far from the town that had rejected her, alone with the man who believed in her when no one else did. It sounded like a dream.
“I love you, Max. I'm sorry I doubted you,” she said, guilt washing over her. “That I tried to run.”
“You don’t need to say you’re sorry,” Max insisted, brushing away a tear with his thumb. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips.
When they parted, Laney met his gaze, the first flicker of real hope warming her chest. In that moment, surrounded by half-packed boxes and the remnants of her attempt to flee, Laney felt something shift inside her. With Max as her mate, perhaps she could find the strength to keep fighting.