17. Nash
Chapter 17
Nash
L ike the smart man he is, Dane keeps his distance while I muscle through replacing the rotted wood on the back porch. There’s plenty for him to do inside without tempting me to kick his ass.
It won’t solve anything. I know that. At least, I keep telling myself I do.
I forced myself to stop cloaking my bond with Quinn after the initial alpha rage on the lawn settled down, and his worry echoes atop the swirling mass in my stomach. He’s gonna be pissed when he finds out I let loose on Dane. That’s enough incentive to try to get my shit together.
But despite what I tell myself, the usual tricks aren’t working. Even the spring sunshine and a home project aren’t enough to distract me, not from this. I lift my hat and wipe my brow, trying not to give in to the temptation to look over. It’s like a neon sign is flashing next door , luring me closer.
Rosie—the one I let get away.
One whiff of her scent this morning and I knew. Rosie smells like comfort and warmth. It's a nutty, floral spice that makes my chest ache with the need to be near her. She’s my scent match. My mate.
Damn if that isn’t a sucker punch I didn’t see coming.
At sixteen, she smelled faintly of cotton. I don’t know if her scent developed or my ability to read it did, but she smells irresistible now.Even without her scent, I was drawn to her. I told myself the connection between us was so intense because of what happened that night. I’ve tried for years to forget her. I never even got the chance to get to know her. It makes a lot of fucking sense why I could never get her out from under my skin.
All that does is prove why I’m no good for her. I should have known. I was meant to be her alpha, meant to protect her. I failed.I always fail.
Giving in to temptation, I look at the open window on the second floor of her house. I squint in the late morning sun, desperate for another glance of her.
I’m so weak when it comes to Rosie. The need to go over there is riding me hard, making it worse. She could have a pack over there, a partner, even a bond. It’s been more than a decade.
Logic isn’t winning this round because I can’t think past her. There’s no way I can be around her and not want her. If I had a choice, Rosie would’ve always been mine. But being together isn’t just my choice.
I can keep my distance from her. If that’s what she needs, I will.
But damn, even knowing I should give her up, she was a sight for sore eyes. I wished her happiness, imagining her so many times laughing and free of this place. I never really thought she would be here.
Even if I never pictured her here, it settled something inside me to see her all grown up.
She looks like herself, only more—like she’s confident in who she is.
I force myself to look away from her house and get to work. Turning up my music helps. The extra energy riding me pushes me to hoof it at double speed.
The longer I stay outside, the more the urge to go over there grows. By the time I’m finished, I’m white-knuckling the incessantly pounding instinct pushing me to her door.
Deciding I could use a drive to clear my head before we need to leave to pick up Quinn from the airport, I haul my tools back to the trailer. I make it all the way to the truck without peeking, but I can’t stop myself from taking another glance. The sweet old Victorian is cheerful, though past its prime. It hurts to think that she’s so close yet not mine.
Before I’ve given myself permission, I’m digging around in the center console for a scratch piece of paper. I don’t let myself think about how much this is gonna hurt. Instead, I focus on her. The pain etched into her beautiful face when she saw me fuels my determination.
My phone’s talk-to-text feature helps me fumble a message to Rosie, though it still takes me too many tries to get it right. Even then, I’m not satisfied. Nothing about promising her we will leave her alone could ever feel right. I copy the letters from my phone, double-checking them twice to ensure they’re right, before folding the paper.
The walk to her front door is too brief. I’m staring at the screen door, trying not to surrender to the urge to drop to my knees and beg her to let me in.
That’s not why you came.
There isn’t a car in the driveway, and I know that’s the universe giving me a sign to let her be. It still takes all I have left to tuck the note into the narrow gap in the doorjamb and walk away.
Every step feels like the wrong one, but I keep going until I’m backing out of the driveway. The roads are familiar even though I never had a vehicle when I lived here. I take the old highway, pushing the truck faster than I should on the open road. The canopy of moss-covered oaks turns into farmland, and I roll my window down to let in the fresh air.
We shouldn’t have come back. She doesn’t want us here. It hurt before when I thought it was some delirium-induced teen love. But knowing for sure that Rosie was meant to be mine, how am I ever going to keep my promise to let her go? And if she’s Dane’s match too, what does that mean?
It means she was always ours and we left her here.
It’s irrational. My head reminds me that I was eighteen without a penny to my name and with a scholarship I didn’t know how to deserve. I was on my own and dealing with enough baggage to fill a house. What could I have done then? She was sixteen. She couldn’t have come with us, and I needed to go, to get distance from this place. It led me to my omega. I could never regret becoming pack with Dane or finding Quinn. But my heart won’t be persuaded. We should have protected her, been there for her.
Except she blames you too.
I pull off under an overpass and lose my shit, yelling and slamming my fists on the dash until I’m shaking. Quinn sends me a burst of love, but it’s faint, our bond stretched by distance. The hollowness of it makes my anger deflate, and when the afternoon rain comes, I welcome it.
I’m numb as I merge back onto the highway. I pass the cemetery where my grandfather is buried, but I can’t make myself visit. Instead, I mindlessly drive until I have to turn around or risk being late to pick up Quinn.
When I pull into the driveway, Dane hops in the passenger side and glares at me with one eye. The other is puffy and swollen.
I shouldn’t have hit him, no matter how angry I was— am .
“Where have you been?” he growls, the dominance in his voice barely banked. Dane rarely loses his cool, but he’s close.
I can feel the tug between our alphas, yet I don’t yield. Dane is my best friend, packmate, and Prime—and right now, I can barely look at him. I know he didn’t do this on purpose and he’s probably reeling from his own morning revelation about Rosie, but I can’t do this with him right now. I’m too raw and still prone to strangling him for moving us back here in the first place.
“I was trying to take a beat,” I grumble.
“Me too.” He blows out a rough breath. “Looks like we’re both sucking at it.”
He doesn’t say anything else. What is there to say anyway? This is a fucking mess.