“I feel a little bit like a failure,” he suddenly blurts out. “Like what my pack is

saying about me… that I’m a bad Alpha… might be true.”

My eyes widen. “Karl! Don’t—”

“Abby,” he says, tilting his head back to look up at the sky, “I came here—to this

city—for you. To win you back. No other reason. And I practically abandoned my

pack. I’ve been dealing with everything over the phone, over email.”

His words make my heart sink. I guess I knew that it was true, but hearing it out

loud like this kind of hurts, I’ll admit, and not in the way I would have thought.

I feel a little guilty—guilty for stringing him along like this, guilty for keeping him

here for so long, guilty for allowing him to shirk his responsibilities and lose

Enter title…

approval as Alpha, all so I could keep him on a leash in case I ever decided to

get back together with him.

And what really sucks is that even now, even as he’s telling me this, I’m still not

I don’t know if I want to get back together,

must hurt him more than I could

our thoughts, the wine bottle

fingers.

to his lips, remembering the feel

will happen again. But the gravity of what he’s shared

isn’t the time

the subject, at least a little bit, “we

other until the Alpha party?” The

sense of loss I

“Unless you

joining

force a laugh, even as my heart

pride and all

a soft smile lifting

famous chef bow out,

mood, but the

and glance laden with unspoken emotions.

as if the liquid

unsure of how to frame

lose tomorrow,

want me

mine, and for a moment, the world around

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