Broken Bond by C.J. Primer

26

CALLUM

I stuff my keys into the pocket of my jeans as I climb out of my Corvette in front of the Norbury packhouse, staring up at the familiar building for the first time in months. The last time I was here, the trees out front were skeletal branches and there was a dusting of snow on the roof. Now, summer is at its peak. The trees are lush with foliage, the lawn a vibrant green. Even in my absence, time has continued to march forward, relentless in its pursuit of the next season.

I take a steadying breath, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes. I haven’t slept. After last night, I couldn’t. I smoked enough weed to put a lesser man into a coma, but my racing mind wouldn’t give me enough of a reprieve for sleep to take over. Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was her.

That pained look on her face when she said I broke her will haunt me for the rest of my days. When I met Nessa, she didn’t have any damage. That was what was so damn rare and beautiful about her. She didn’t see the world for the dark, ugly place it is, but instead saw the good in everything, even me. The Nessa that confronted me last night wasn’t the same girl I left behind, though. All the agony written on her face, the defeat in her eyes, was fresh damage. Put there by me. I took a beautiful, pure thing, and I broke it.

I thought I was setting her free by leaving, but instead, I was destroying her.

And I don’t know how to fix it.

Chase’s white truck screams into the driveway right as I take my first jerky step toward the packhouse, stopping me in my tracks. Just the man I came to see. I swivel and start toward the driveway instead as he cuts the engine and climbs out, greeting me with a lift of his chin as he slams the truck door closed behind him.

“You’re up early,” Chase comments as he rounds the back of the truck, a cardboard drink carrier in hand. Nestled inside are three paper cups from the fancy-ass coffee shop in the town square, the Brewed

Awakenings logo emblazoned on the cardboard carrier.

“Didn’t sleep,” I mutter as I close the distance, stopping short in front of my friend. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Uh, you’re gonna have to give me a little more context,” Chase grumbles, sliding the drink carrier onto the tailgate of his truck, folding his arms, and leaning back to rest. against the bumper.

“Nessa,” I deadpan. “You said she was fine after I left. Happy, even.”

Chase winces, heaving a sigh and shaking his head. “Fuck, I know,” he mutters, fisting his hair and staring down at the driveway. “I know.”

“So why didn’t you tell me she wasn’t?” I demand, stepping closer and barely keeping my rage in check. None of this is Chase’s fault, but I need somewhere to cast the blame right now. If I point it where it truly belongs, I’ll self-destruct.

He lifts his head, guilty eyes meeting mine. ” I wanted to, bro. I did.” He blows out a breath, his arms dropping to his sides. “But honestly, what difference would it have made?”

I just stare back at him, blinking. I don’t have an answer.

“You made your choice when you left,” Chase continues. “You went away on that mission, and I wasn’t going to distract you with what was going on here and let you go and get yourself killed.”

“You still should’ve told me,” I growl.

He folds his arms over his chest again, arching a brow. “Would you have come back?”

I shove my hands in my pockets, kicking at the pavement as I mutter, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Honestly, I didn’t even ask about Nessa the first few times I called Chase to check in while I was away. I didn’t want to know; couldn’t face what I’d done. At least he gave me a heads-up about Miles before I came back. Fuckin’ Miles.

Chase blows out a breath, pushing off from the truck and stepping closer. He reaches forward to clap a hand down on my shoulder, my eyes snapping up to meet his. The gesture and his demeanor remind me so much of his father that I nearly do a double take.

“Listen, man. You’re like a brother to me. Nothing will change that. But I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t call you on your bullshit. You care about Nessa, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” I snap, shrugging his hand off my shoulder as something in my chest. pinches painfully.

you leave? You could’ve marked her to seal the bond and still gone away on the mission. She would’ve understood. Leaving like that was just wrong. You want to know how she really was after you left? It fucking destroyed

open something inside and making me bleed. I shake my head, gritting my teeth against the

You wouldn’t understand.”

at my friend, dropping my defenses. I let him see everything I’m feeling- the regret, the anger, the hurt, the guilt. It’s in my

sharp edge to his sympathy, like he understands but won’t offer his pity. Good. I don’t need it, nor do I deserve it. I was the one who made this mess, and the worst part

was no good for Nessa; that I could lose control someday and hurt her in a way I could never come back from. While I may have hurt her by

belief that it was the right call, even though I’m questioning everything now that I’m back. Now that I’ve seen her face, seen her pain, felt the way it mirrors my own.

thing to do,

drink carrier perched on the bumper of the truck. “Since when do you drink that hoity-toity shit

lattes are the ultimate hangover cure,” he chuckles, stooping to pick up the carrier. “And judging by how she tied one on last night, I thought it’d be

of a bitch,” I tease, the ghost of a grin pulling at

my woman happy. Though I probably could’ve waited to pick these up, I doubt

far as I knew, Vee was

narrows his eyes on me, swiping a hand

to the packhouse, chewing on the knowledge that she’s right inside. So much was left unsaid last night, and if I ever want to sleep again, I need to get it out. I

in front of me, blocking my path with a little shake of his head. “I don’t know, man, is now the right time? You haven’t slept.

protective of Nessa? I guess it makes sense since she’s his mate’s best friend and all, but my wolf doesn’t like it

too

for the packhouse and waving for me to follow.” But if Vee wakes up and sees

but first, I’ve gotta talk to Nessa. I have no idea how, but I have to try to make her understand why I did what I did, that the last thing I wanted to do

through the doorway as I step over the threshold of the packhouse, my head immediately snapping toward the kitchen where I spot her perched on the edge of the counter, bare legs swinging. I balk when I see Miles standing beside her, my mind working overtime

her hair mussed and her eyes sleepy. Fuck, I miss her just rolled out of bed look. Miles, on the other hand, is fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his hair styled and his sneakers on his feet. He looks too put together to have just woken up, so I can only conclude that he didn’t spend the night here

fuck. The thought of him

mouth from a bowl nestled on her

straightens as I take a few steps toward her, avoiding Miles’ heavy stare completely,

we

chewing. Swallows. Then she just stares at me, her indecision evident in

looks a little fucking panicked. Especially when Nessa shifts the bowl off her lap to set it on the counter beside her and hops down, brushing her hands

cautiously, giving me a little nod.

Nessa by the wrist before she can

the urge to rip his fucking hand off at the sight of him touching

murmurs lowly, probably intending for only her to hear, but I don’t miss it, nor do I

worried about

about me. I see it in his shifty gaze, the way his fingertips tighten around her wrist. He sees her as his possession, and Miles has never

shaking her head resolutely. “I’m fine,” she supplies, sweeping

jaw ticks, his eyes pinging to me. Narrowing.

I scoff, squaring my shoulders and leveling him

me in challenge, and judging by the tight scowl on his face, I already know that the next words out of

already won the

Fuck.

snaps around.

turns her bewildered gaze

look at her- I’m still locked in a staring contest with Miles, channeling all my energy into keeping my rage in check. The guy may be one of my closest friends, but I’ve never wanted to murder someone more than I do him right now. My fists clench at my sides, my fingernails digging