Chapter 33
Waiting Too Long
NATHAN
For the first time in nearly a year, I walk up the steps to Johanna’s home in real life.
I’ve done this so many times in my head, but never returned in person for fear my alpha would prompt me to stop by and ruin my carefully laid plans.
That, and the fact that regularly walking by Johanna and Max’s house—and, as I’m now aware, Corin’s—without a good reason for doing so falls perilously close to stalker territory.
Better to keep my distance, sanity, and reputation for good behavior.
At last, I’m really here. Although I arrive around midday, instead of early evening, as before, for Max’s last heat, the weather is very similar: gray and overcast. A chill wind off the lake carries the hint of rain or snow.
The same fedora keeps my head warm. A trench coat covers my usual Friday attire: casual button-down shirt and slacks held up by a narrow belt.
My shoes thud against the same porch steps.
Last time I wore boots, and I may regret not having done so this today when it’s time to leave.
The doorbell rings, barely audible from outside, as before.
Johanna answers, as she did the day Max’s heat started. Last time, a blue kaftan floated loose around her curves; today she wears jeans and a pink sweater with a straight neckline that slides to the side, revealing a matching pink bra strap.
Of all things, she has bunny slippers on her feet. The soles squeak against the wood floor as she opens the door wide, a shy smile lighting her face
She takes my hat and coat, giving me time to take a good look and sniff around. I don’t remember the first floor well, just the layered aromas of long-term occupancy by alphas and omegas, at least two of each. That’s changed.
None of Max’s orange-and-rum perfume remains—an absence that tugs at my heart—only traces of lilac I recognize as belonging to Corin’s daughter, Anamaria, from the meeting earlier in the week.
Having met Corin, it’s easy to place the mix of cedar and cider, wood and apples, as one alpha, rather than two.
The balsamic-vinegar alpha scent is much fainter, perhaps another of his children.
Then, there’s the lovely layer of Johanna’s cranberry, less pungent than the others, but more powerful because she’s here beside me.
She leads me down a hall to the kitchen. It’s unremarkable, not much different from mine except for having more stuff in it. It’s light and cheery, with yellows and greens and oranges. A pot of thick vegetable soup bubbles on the stove, and a hint of warm bread lingers in the air.
“I understand from Corin you prefer not to pick entrées for other people, so I hope you don’t mind that I picked for us.” Johanna stirs the soup with a long wooden ladle. “I’m not much of a cook, but I’m a dab hand at warming up soup and bread.”
“I don’t mind at all.” If anything, a warm sensation blooms in my chest that he remembered and passed the information along, and that she, in turn, heeded it. “Smells good.”
We go through the usual array of what to drink and both end up with glasses of water, which she hands me to take to the dining room.
A modest brass-and-glass chandelier hangs over the long table, offering dimmer light than the kitchen.
Placemats indicate where we’ll sit: one at the very end, and the other to its right.
Each boasts a spoon and napkin, but is otherwise bare.
I offer to help, but she demurs, leaving me to watch the graceful dance of her dishing up the soup and bringing large, half-full bowls to the table followed by slices of warm brown bread from the oven, complete with a plate of butter to slather over them.
Johanna takes the chair at the end of the table and gestures for me to sit next to her, which I do but angle my chair so that I can watch her as I eat.
Her cheeks blush pink, a shade darker than her shirt and bra.
The soup and bread are both good, and I’m hungry, but my alpha is more bent on drinking in the sight of her here, alone, with me. For all that I wield spoon and handle bread without dropping or spilling, my gaze rarely leaves her.
With a shrug, she sets her spoon down. “This is weird.” She covers her mouth as a nervous laugh escapes her.
“Why?”
“I never thought I’d see you again after that last heat, much less here.” Her hands turn outward, gesturing at the house.
“Truly?” My fingers clench on my spoon, and I set it in the bowl carefully. “I told you I’d see you again. Somehow.”
“I thought you were just saying that to be polite.”
Hadn’t she realized? Sudden doubts stun me, worries bubbling up that she doesn’t want this possibility of a pack including me. My alpha, however, refuses to acknowledge any concerns. He brings back the memory of her coming to me the other day and crying in my arms.
My rational mind isn’t as confident.
“I meant every word,” I say.
“I couldn’t see how it would ever happen.” Johanna sighs, hands dropping to the table and head drooping. “Max was ...”
“Max was coming around.” I lay a hand over hers, giving a light squeeze. Man and alpha enjoy the feel of her warm, soft skin beneath mine.
“What?” She blinks and shakes her head. “Given how angry his omega was when he last saw you, I was sure he wouldn’t want anything more to do with you.
Except, then he didn’t seem to remember any of it, just acted as though the heat had been normal, and we went on with life as usual. Until it wasn’t.”
“He didn’t talk about me at all?”
“No.” Another shrug, though not so strong as to pull her hand from beneath mine. “That’s why I was so surprised to see you on Tuesday.”
“Johanna, I had lunch with him regularly after the heat, first every other week, then every week, until his diagnosis.” My chair squeaks and protests as I turn to face her full on.
I lift her hand from the table and press her fingers between mine.
Gently, so she can pull away easily, should she choose. She doesn’t, though she trembles.
“You and Max?” Her breaths are high and fluttery. Color drains from her face. A sour edge tinges her scent, overriding the soup and bread.
“I was courting him, convincing him that he wouldn’t have to give you up if he let me into your lives.
” Each word falling slow and clear, I give her time to absorb this information, punctuated by her rapid breathing.
“That he’d be adding a friend to his pack, an alpha friend to romance and be romanced by, rather than losing his beloved beta.
That I would never ask anything sexual of him outside of heats, only of you.
You and Max are the only ones I’ve loved since the accident. ”
Johanna’s free hand covers her mouth. Tears glitter in her eyes. “He never told me.”
“I think he was getting ready to tell you, to let me court you both, before he died.”
Little though I want to let go, I pull my right hand away to retrieve my wallet. The billfold falls open easily, but I need both hands to remove Max’s message.
The high-quality paper unfolds, and I flatten it as I slide it toward her.
Her hands shake as she picks it up.
I’ve memorized every word. The top bears my name in a shaky hand. Other jerky letters spell out a simple line below:
I’m sorry I waited too long to say yes.
Below, a tidier hand specifies that this was one of the last things Max wrote.
That he wanted me to have it and wished he’d been able to deliver it in person.
The handwritten letter came tucked inside a typed invitation to be part of Max’s trust. The outer layer is in my bureau at home, but I’ve kept the inner with me ever since it arrived in the mail.
“You’re all I’ve wanted of life since I lost my pack. I hoped to become a pack with you and Max.” We’d come so close. “That’s not possible, so I’ll take a place in a pack with you, Corin, and Dan, if we can make this work.”
“How? We only spent a day and a half together.” She lays the paper on the table between us, well away from the food. Her gaze lifts to mine as one hand strokes the letter.
“A very intense day and a half.” In case she’s forgotten.
“I’ve seen how you are with one you love, the care and fire and commitment you bring.
You shared your dreams and losses with me and listened to mine in return.
” I lean forward, moving slowly so she can pull back if she chooses.
She doesn’t, letting me stroke her warm, ruddy cheek.
“It took less time for my alpha to want my first mates, so I don’t find loving you at all surprising. ”
“I dreamed of you after your gift arrived. Dreamed that you were there in the tub with me after Max’s heat, saying things just like this.” Her cranberry scent flares, a tangy sweetness overriding the hint of sour.
“Something inside you knew. I fell in love with you that night, and I’ve been working toward being with you ever since.” I run a finger down her arm to where her hand still strokes the letter. Her fingers turn and clasp mine.
“I don’t know that I fell in love with you then.
I wouldn’t let myself develop feelings for anyone who helped with Max’s heats because they were temporary, and it would hurt too much when they left.
” She dabs at her eyes, bright with tears with her free hand.
“But I dreamed of you sometimes. This is like a dream.”
“It’s no dream.” I lean in and brush a light kiss over her lips. When I draw away, she follows for a second kiss before pulling back.
“I haven’t been in the nest since that heat. Haven’t set foot in the bedroom I shared with Max since his death. Too many memories, most of him, but also of you.” Her gaze turns distant and abstract, as though she’s not seeing me, but she holds tight to my hand.
“Do you need company?” The idea of returning to the nest, the last place I was with both of them, holds an unexpected lure. Something deep inside twangs.