Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Jared
The third candle drowns in its own wax as Emily’s phone screen goes dark in her hand. Her face remains lit, though, a frozen mask of hope collapsing into familiar disappointment that punches me in the gut harder than any physical blow.
“He can’t make it,” Emily says, flat where emotion should be. “He has too much work, so he’s going straight to his hotel.”
I stand by the frosted living room window, my reflection staring back, jaw tight and shoulders rigid.
Behind me, the table Emily spent all evening setting for the second night in a row waits with rosemary lamb stew, crusty sourdough bread baked fresh this morning, and roasted winter vegetables arranged on a hand-carved serving platter.
She turns her phone screen down on the counter. “The stew will keep for another day.”
The defeat in her voice raises hackles along my spine. “What was his excuse this time?”
“He didn’t say.” She places the stopper back in the wine bottle for the second night in a row.
My fist curls at my side. “This isn’t okay, Em.”
“He’s busy.”
“He’s disrespectful.”
Emily doesn’t answer, and the silence between us thickens with unspoken accusations, not at each other, but at the man whose presence has faded into memory.
I cross to the table where she stands. “You can’t keep defending him.”
Unshed tears shine in Emily’s eyes. “He’s trying his best.”
“Is he?”
Her throat works as she swallows. The candles flicker between us, casting amber light across the fatigue etched into her strong features. She’s lost weight over the past month, not much, but enough that I notice the sharper angle of her collarbones beneath her silk blouse.
She turns away, carrying Leif’s empty plate back to the kitchen. I follow, watching as she moves the stew pot off the burner to allow it to cool.
“This pattern is becoming too familiar,” I say to her back.
Her movements pause for a fraction of a second before she continues, shoulders stiffening. “Leif isn’t Auren.”
“No. But your response to him is becoming the same.”
She turns to me, burning with a mixture of anger and pain that knots low in my sternum. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” My hands ball into fists. “What about this situation is fair to you, Em? You spend hours cooking meals he never shows up to eat. You rearrange your schedule when he says he’s coming, then wait by the phone when he doesn’t.”
“He has responsibilities.”
“So do we. To each other.” I step closer, bridging the gap between us. “I can’t stand seeing you so unhappy.”
Emily’s eyes drop to the floor.
“Last month, he swore to communicate better,” I remind her, furious that after I confronted him at the cafe, he pulled this shit again. “He swore to respect your time.”
“His job is demanding.”
“Stop defending him!” The words burst out louder than intended, and Emily flinches.
I draw a deep breath to steady myself. “Every time he does this, you find a reason why it’s acceptable.
Why it’s different from what Auren put you through.
But it’s not acceptable. No excuse justifies hurting you.
Last night, you agreed to stop this if he didn’t show again. ”
“I want to believe in him,” Emily says, gripping the counter behind her. “I want to trust that there’s a reason.”
“There probably is,” I concede, running a hand through my hair. “But he’s decided we don’t deserve to know what it is.”
Emily pushes away from the counter, moving back to the dining table. With methodical movements, she begins extinguishing the candles, pinching the hot wicks between her fingers without flinching at the pain. One by one, the flames die, plunging the room into deeper shadow.
“He texted this time,” she says, as if this represents progress worth noting.
“After we’d already been waiting an hour.”
She doesn’t argue as she puts away the nice dinner she worked so hard to make. She starts to fill the sink with soapy water, staring into it for a long time before she shuts the water off and steps away, leaving the kitchen a mess.
I watch as she drifts into the living room, where the fire I built earlier still crackles in the hearth. Without turning on the lamps, she curls into the corner of the couch, drawing her knees to her chest, shrinking into herself.
The protective fury I’ve been tamping down all evening rises again. My fingers clench and unclench at my sides as I stare out the window, where snow begins to fall in small flakes that vanish upon touching the ground.
Emily remains motionless on the couch, every inch of her posture shouting exhaustion. Not the physical tiredness that comes from a day of hard work, but the bone-deep weariness of emotional labor with no return.
And the sight of my strong, capable Alpha reduced to waiting and hoping firms my resolve. This can’t continue. Something has to change, and if Leif won’t initiate that change, then I will.
On sock-covered feet, I walk over to kneel by her next to the couch so we’re at eye level. “This isn’t working. You know it isn’t.”
The resignation that settles over Emily rips open my chest. “What do you want me to say, Jared?”
“I want you to admit how much this hurts you.” My thumbs trace circles on her wrists, her pulse fluttering beneath my touch. “I want you to stop pretending it’s okay when he treats you like an afterthought.”
“This isn’t a single disappointment anymore,” I continue, as a log shifts in the fireplace, sending a cascade of sparks up the chimney. “This is a pattern of him hurting you, whether he means to or not.”
Her focus drifts toward the half-cleared dining table where the evidence of her hope still sits in candle wax and forgotten silverware.
“I keep thinking if I’m patient enough, he’ll feel safe enough to let us in,” she confesses, soft as the snowflakes drifting past the windows. “That if I don’t pressure him, he’ll share whatever burden he’s carrying.”
“How long are you willing to wait?” I ask. “Another month? Six? A year of canceled dinners and broken promises?”
Emily’s fingers twitch in mine as she struggles with the difficult truth. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve been waiting for permission to demand more.”
“Permission from who?”
“From myself.” She pulls one hand free to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “After Auren, I swore I’d never again twist myself into knots trying to anticipate someone else’s needs. That I’d never again make myself smaller to accommodate someone’s limitations.”
The name sends a ripple of tension through me. I didn’t know Auren when they were together, but I witnessed the aftermath of his manipulation as Emily rebuilt herself, only for Leif to put all that hard work at risk.
“And now?”
“Now I catch myself doing it again.” Her admission comes quiet but clear. “Rearranging plans. Making excuses. Building my hopes around moments he might spare for us between whatever mysterious obligations keep pulling him away.”
I shift from my knees to sit beside her on the couch, the cushions dipping under our combined weight. With gentle pressure, I guide her head to rest on my shoulder, my arm circling her back.
“You matter, Em.” My chin rests atop her head, her silver hair tickling my skin. “Your time matters. Your feelings matter. Your need for honesty and reliability matters.”
Her body softens against mine, tension releasing in small increments with each breath. “Do you think he’s lying? About the school meetings?”
“No, but I think he’s hiding something more,” I answer with care. “I think whatever it is feels too big or dangerous to share, so he keeps us at arm’s length instead. And I bet you it has something to do with Carson.”
Emily’s fingers find the hem of my shirt, twisting the fabric as she considers my words. “And if that’s true? What then?”
“Then he needs to be honest with us.” Conviction hardens within me. “Either he lets us shoulder the weight with him, or he admits he doesn’t trust us enough to.”
The clock on the mantel ticks through several minutes while we sit in silence.
When Emily speaks again, it comes as a whisper, “I love him. But I can barely feel him anymore.”
She lifts my hand to her chest, to the same place where my bond for her hums, and my own chest aches for the dying embers of what could have been.
“This can’t survive if we’re the only ones wanting it,” I tell her.
“No, it can’t.” She straightens. “What are you thinking?”
The determination that’s been building all evening crystallizes into purpose. “I’m thinking it’s time to stop waiting for him to choose us and force him to face what his behavior is doing.”
“You want to confront him.”
No, I’ve already confronted him, and that didn’t work, though neither of us spoke of that meeting to Emily.
“I want to give him a clear choice.” My hands find hers again, gripping with gentle firmness. “All in with us, secrets and burdens included, or step back until he’s ready to be honest.”
Emily’s breath catches, and I know she’s weighing the risk of pushing too hard versus the certainty of more disappointment, more excuses, and more of her light dimming each time he fails to appear.
“I’m done watching you bleed in silence,” I tell her, unyielding. “You’ve given him chance after chance to explain, to change the pattern.”
“And if confronting him drives him away for good?” Her greatest fear hangs naked between us.
“Then he was never ours to keep.” The truth comes out bitter, but necessary. “And better to know now than waste more months wondering if today will be the day he trusts us.”
Emily searches me for any hint of doubt and finds none. “Okay.”
I pull my phone out and dial his number, putting it on speaker. One ring. Two. Three. His voicemail picks up, and the mechanical sound of his recorded greeting only fuels the fire burning through me.
I hang up and dial again.
Again, his voicemail answers.
My nostrils flare, irritation sliding under my skin as I end the call without leaving a message and slide the phone back into my pocket.
“Well, he won’t be able to ignore me when I’m outside his door.” I rise from the floor, my jaw set in a hard line. “I’m going to his hotel. If we don’t confront him now, who knows how long it will be before he shows his face again.”
“You don’t need to convince him to care,” she says, steadier than I expected. “I don’t want him back out of obligation.”
“This isn’t about convincing.” I cross to the coat hooks by the door and yank my jacket from its peg hard enough to make the wood creak. “It’s about no more half-truths.”
The snow falls faster as I shove my arms into the sleeves.
Behind me, Emily rises from the sofa to join me at the door. “I should go with you.”
When she reaches for her jacket, I catch her hand and shake my head. “No. Stay here and rest. Keep the fire burning.”
She doesn’t need to hear what I plan to say to Leif.
I stamp on my boots and grab the truck keys. “I’ll call as soon as I know anything.”
With a quick kiss, I step outside into the cold and stride to the truck, snowflakes stinging my cheeks and clinging to my lashes.
The engine groans in protest before catching, dashboard lights illuminating my white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
I punch the heater to full blast, but only cold air rushes through the vents. As I pull away from the cottage, my headlights catch Emily’s silhouette in the window, one hand pressed against the glass. The image burns into my mind as I navigate onto the street.
The road into town stretches before me, a ribbon of black, but turning white at the edges where the snow begins to stick.
By the time I pull into the parking lot for Leif’s hotel, the snow is coming down hard, and my wipers sweep at top speed to clear them from my view.
The parking lot reveals only a handful of cars at this time of year, and I don’t spot Leif’s sedan among them, but he could have parked in the garage to protect his old vehicle.
It’s where I’d park if I thought I’d be here long.
When I enter the hotel, the front desk attendant smiles in greeting. “May I help you?”
“No, thank you,” I reply, heading for the elevators as if I’m expected here. “Just heading up to my friend’s room.”
Disinterested, her attention returns to the computer on her desk.
The elevator carries me to the third floor, where the hallway carpet absorbs the sound of my footsteps. A vending machine hums at the end of the corridor, its light illuminating a mix of healthy snacks and candy.
When I reach Leif’s door, the Do Not Disturb sign isn’t on the handle where it hangs once Leif retires for the night, and worry takes hold. Is he really not here?
I pound on the door so hard that it rattles the frame.
Silence answers.
I knock again, harder this time. “Leif! Open up. We need to talk.”
Nothing.
My palm flattens on the door, as if I might sense his presence through the wood.
As I prepare to knock a third time, the neighboring door opens, and a man with tousled hair peers out, blinking in the bright light of the hallway. “He’s not there. Left about half an hour ago.”
My hand drops to my side. “Did you see which way he went?”
“No.” The man leans on his doorframe, arms crossing over a faded concert T-shirt. “But he seemed upset.”
A weight settles in my stomach, heavy as a stone. “Did he say where he was going?”
“Nope.” The neighbor yawns, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “And I didn’t ask, so can you stop causing a racket? Some of us are trying to sleep.”
“Sorry. And thanks for the information,” I tell the neighbor, already turning toward the elevator.
The man calls something after me, but his words fade as I rush away.
At this time of night, there’s only one place Leif would go, and I left Emily at home alone.