Page 67 of Choosing the Rejected Mate

Holly leans against the counter and looks at me.Really looks.“But I handled it,” she says.

“You did.”

“And you let me handle it.”

“I did.”

“Thank you for that.”

I look down at my hands because I’m not sure what to do with the softness in her voice.These hands know how to work.Fix.Fight.Hold.They don’t always know how to receive.

Holly reaches for one anyway, her fingers slide between mine, and my wolf quiets instantly.Magic.Not the moon kind but the Holly kind.

“I wanted you to step in,” she says softly.“Part of me did.The scared part.The old part.The part that still thinks safety means someone bigger standing in front of me.”I swallow hard.“But I needed you beside me more.”Her grip tightens.“Thank you for knowing the difference.”

My chest cracks open.I turn my hand, lacing our fingers fully.“If we’re being honest, you should know I didn’t want to know the difference.I wanted to throw him through the window.”

Her smile is small.“I guessed.”

“Maybe into the cupcake case.”

“That would be wasteful.Those cupcakes were fresh.”

“Good point.”

“Also, blood is hard to clean from tile.”I stare at her, and she shrugs.“I own a bakery, Daniel.I think practically.”

Goddess help me, I laugh, and she smiles, and for one second, the ugliness of the morning loosens its grip around both of us before her smile fades.

“I still want to run tonight,” she says.

Everything inside me stills, and my wolf lifts his head.“Are you sure?”

“No.”At least she’s honest.Terrifyingly, brutally fucking honest.

Her gaze drops to our joined hands.“But I want to be sure with you.I want...”She exhales, frustrated.“I hate how many important conversations we have in this kitchen.It makes me want to disinfect my emotions.”

“That sounds painful.”

“I’ll probably end up smelling like a bleach factory.”She’s deflecting, and we both know it.

I squeeze her hand.“What do you want, Holly?”

She looks up at me.No jokes.No more deflections.Fear is there, yes.But so is desire, determination, and a softness she keeps trying to hide and keeps failing to bury.

“I want the run,” she says.“Then I want the claim.”

The world stops.The bond goes bright and silent inside me, a single held breath.My wolf does not surge this time, the little shit bows.Because this is not prey, or instinct, or fate dragging us by the throat.This is Holly choosing.

I step closer slowly.“Say that again.”

Her cheeks flush.“Don’t make it weird.”

“It’s already weird.Fate gave me a mate who insults appliances and threatens old men with raisin buns.”

“Mr.Phelps deserved it.”

“I’m sure he did.”I cup her cheek, thumb brushing the flour from her skin.“Say it again anyway.”