Chapter 3

I made him stand in the wind with his arms open and yell. I lay next to him under the stars and talked nonsense. We spent a whole day helping a family near the isolated village find their missing animal. In the cramped RV I made him a rough stew.

Out here where nothing needed to be defined, I became the opposite of the person I'd always been.

Free. Warm. Fearless.

A big sister with some wildness in her.

I always had a bright smile, a loud voice.

It was as much for him as it was for me.

Cain's eyes slowly got lighter. His smile came back, little by little. The way he looked at me changed from cold and distant to focused, almost burning.

I found out that behind the surface gloom, he was sharp, brave, and stubborn in the best way.

Cain was the opposite of me.

One night under a sky full of stars, the world quiet, the two of us squeezed into the narrow bunk in the RV.

It happened so naturally.

Like getting tired and sleeping. Like being thirsty and drinking.

The most basic kind of want, out in the most basic kind of world.

No age. No past. No labels.

Just heat, and the weight of another person breathing.

Every rule was gone.

Desire took over everything.

So did the good parts.

We were drowning in it. Two people who had never had this before, grabbing at it, wanting more.

He liked to walk his fingers up my arm, slow, stopping somewhere and going quiet, his voice almost gone.

"Can I?" he'd ask.

"You want more?"

"Try..."

Six months. Walking and stopping, stopping and walking.

One evening near the end of the journey, the sun was going down and the world felt gentle.

We were sitting by the window sharing a meal.

"Come back with me in a year," he said. "I'll take care of things at home and then I'll come find you. Okay?"

He was serious in a way he rarely was.

"That's not happening," I said lightly.

"Why not?"

"I'm five years older than you. I can't afford to wait a year. And long age gaps never end well. By the time I have grey hair you'll still be young, and then I'll turn into a paranoid jealous mess. No thank you."

I was rambling, like I always did.

He went still.

He looked faintly stunned.

I felt bad. I laughed.

"Okay, tell me first. What do you like about me?"

He thought about it. Then he answered, careful and serious.

"I like that you live without holding back. You're brave. You're yourself."

I looked down. I took a bite of food.

A few days later.

In a small town near the border, I left a note.

And I slipped away.

The woman he saw in me wasn't me.

We were just two gusts of wind that crossed paths on the road. In the right place, at the right temperature, we'd tangled together for a while.

Then each of us went our own way.

I drove back to the city. Put my glasses back on. Cut off the curled hair. Put on the blazer that made me feel safe.

And became the Wren that everyone expected.

I spent a long time thinking through whether Cain had actually recognized me.

Five years with no contact.

Six months that didn't even last.

When I first set out on that trip, I'd been using a different name — I'd cut ties with my old life completely, and that was the first thing I did. I'd even rented the RV under someone else's name to save the trouble.

Two years ago I broke my nose in a fall. I had it repaired, and after that even old acquaintances had done a double-take.

So between my appearance, the way I carried myself, my name, and my identity, the person I was now was completely different from the wild, laughing woman on that road five years ago.

He hadn't recognized me.

As for those lines he said, the ones that could have meant anything.

When I actually thought about them in context, they made sense for normal conversation.

I'd overreacted.

...

My read turned out to be right.

Things stayed normal after that.

I gave him regular finance reports. He'd sometimes call and ask me to his office to go over work, or question a budget detail. Everything between us stayed firmly inside the appropriate range of an Alpha and his Finance Director.

Professional. Civil.

I got used to it.

In meetings I could push back on a number without feeling like anything was at stake. When someone made a joke I could actually relax and laugh along.

That stretch of road, I told myself, was just a break from normal life. For both of us. Something that burned hot and then went out.

Like a dust storm. All heat when it arrives. Gone without a trace.

Then one morning I came into the office and found a girl I didn't recognize standing in the middle of the room.

Dark hair to her waist. White dress. Young and pretty in a way that was easy on the eyes.

She introduced herself politely.

"Hi, Wren. I'm Elara. I'm here for an internship. I just wanted to come say hello."

I nodded. She gave a shy smile and left.

My two subordinates were already talking over each other.

"Wren, you have to be careful around her, okay?