Page 80 of Howl Will I Know

“And now?”

“There’s no door.”

Nora presses her palm flat against my chest, right over my heart, and her eyes widen slightly. “I can feel you too. You’re happy.”

That rough laugh comes out of me again. “Yeah. I’m pretty fucking happy.”

“And your wolf is too.” Nora smiles. “All of you.”

I kiss her gently. My hand slides into her hair as her mouth softens beneath mine, and when I finally pull back, her eyelids are heavy and her cheeks are pink.

I kiss her nose. “You okay?”

She smiles. “I think you broke my brain.”

“No regrets?”

Her smile fades as her fingers move to the back of my neck, holding me there. “I chose this, Hewit. I chose you. I knew what the bite could mean when I asked you to do it.”

My eyes flick toward the mark again before I can stop them. Nora could wake up tomorrow with a fever. It could happen the day after that, or the day after that. I don’t know, and for once in my life, I don’t need to have every possible disaster mapped out before I let myself be happy.

“If something happens,” I say, “we deal with it. Together.”

Her smile is so beautiful it hurts. “Together,” she agrees.

I close my eyes when she cups my face, turning to press a kiss into her palm.

For years, I thought loving someone meant protecting them from the worst parts of me.

Nora taught me something else. That sometimes love means trusting someone enough to let them choose all of you. Man. Wolf. Every scar. Every fear. Every fucked-up piece I spent years hiding.

She knew what I was. She knew what the bite might do. Knew there were no guarantees about what came after it and chose me anyway.

And for the first time, I believe her enough to stop waiting for her to change her mind.

Whatever tomorrow brings, we’ll face it then.

And this time, I’m not running.

Epilogue

Hewit

One month later

Screaming Woods Diner still has seventeen tables.

I still sit at the same one every morning. Back corner. Two walls behind me, clear view of the door, six feet from the emergency exit.

Some things take longer to change than others. The difference is, I don’t sit here alone anymore.

Nora is beside me, drinking coffee that Marnie insists is a new, improved brand. It isn’t. Reid and Scarlett are opposite us, and Scarlett, who is six months pregnant and apparently using that as justification for theft, is eyeing the last piece of bacon on my plate.

I sigh and put it on hers.

“I didn’t ask for that,” she says.

“You were staring at it.”