Page 63 of Puck Your Charity

He didn't do it for praise. He didn't even tell his packmates he planned to go. He did it quietly, in the dark, because it was the right thing to do.

He is trying to be a better man.

A hot, stinging tear slips down my cheek. I wipe it away, but another one falls right behind it.

The realization crashes over me, stripping away all of my remaining pride. I want him. My body craves his juniper scent, but my heart craves the man sitting in that plastic hospital chair. I want the Alpha who fights his own fears to make a kid smile. I want the man doing the quiet work to make amends.

The gap between us feels like a canyon, filled with cruel words and brutal rejections. I told him I would rather sleep in a freezing car than talk to him. I threw his panic attack in his face in that parking lot.

I weep into my hands, overwhelmed by the crushing wave of regret and the terrifying, beautiful realization that I am in love with a man who thinks I hate him.

The tears fall hot and fast, soaking the palms of my hands. I curl my knees to my chest on the velvet sofa, letting the overwhelming wave of emotion crash over me.

The quiet solitude of the east wing sitting room offers a safe place to fall apart. The silence wraps around my trembling shoulders.

Footsteps pad softly against the carpet in the hallway.

I try to wipe my face, scrubbing the wetness from my cheeks, but the tears refuse to stop. The floodgates opened, and the dam sits in ruins.

Finn steps through the arched doorway. He wears dark gray sweatpants and a fitted white t-shirt. His messy auburn hair points in every direction, catching the golden afternoon light.

He stops in his tracks. His warm brown eyes lock onto my face.

The relaxed, easy-going posture vanishes instantly. His protective instincts surge to the surface. The crisp scent of an ozone thunderstorm floods the room, rolling toward the sofa with an intense, comforting urgency.

"Olive." Finn crosses the room in three long strides.

He drops to his knees right in front of the sofa. He reaches out and pulls my trembling body right off the cushions and into his chest.

I collapse against him. I wrap my arms around his thick neck and bury my face in his shoulder.

"I've got you." Finn wraps his strong arms around my waist, anchoring me against his solid frame. "You're safe. Talk to me, sweetheart. What happened?"

He keeps his voice a low, soothing rumble, rubbing his large hand in slow, rhythmic circles over my back to ground my nervous system.

I pull back just far enough to reach my phone on the cushion. My fingers shake as I pick the device up. The screen still displays the text thread with Elena.

I hand the phone to Finn.

He takes it. His brow furrows in confusion. He looks at the screen, reading the text message from Sam's mom. His eyes drop to the candid photo of Victor sitting in the hospital room holding the red game controller.

Finn stares at the picture. A slow, deeply affectionate smile spreads across his rugged face.

He locks the phone and sets it on the coffee table. He looks back at me, his brown eyes softening with complete understanding.

"He went back." I wipe a tear from my cheek. "He faced his nightmare. He apologized to Sam."

"He did." Finn brushes a stray tear off my cheek with his thumb. "He put in the work."

"I was so awful to him." I drop my forehead against Finn's collarbone. "I stood in that strip mall parking lot and I threw his trauma right in his face. I called him a coward. I told him he lacked a spine. I said the cruelest things I could think of to make him hurt, and he still went back to the hospital to make amends."

"You reacted out of fear." Finn rubs my back, his tone offering total forgiveness. "You fought for your survival, Olive. You lashed out because you felt cornered. He knows that."

"I want him." The confession leaves my lips in a desperate, ragged breath. "I want the whole pack, Finn. I want Victor. But I ruined it. I built a huge wall between us, and I have no idea how to cross it. He won't even look at me when I walk into the kitchen. He thinks I despise him."

Finn shifts on the floor. He pulls back slightly, tilting my chin up so I have to look him in the eye.

"Victor loves you." Finn looks at me with absolute, unwavering certainty.