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The records say I have to let him walk away. His return isn’t promised.

Every instinct inside me wants to take him upstairs, put Pepper between us, and close my body around both of them until the road forgets we exist.

Pepper catches my wrist. “Stay with me.”

“I am here.”

“Your hands are.”

I look at her.

She tips her head back so the water runs through her curls to rinse the last of the conditioner. Her eyes are swollen from crying. A faint smear of mud remains near her ear.

Then she wraps her arms around my middle and hugs me tightly. My alpha settles enough to breathe.

When I’m steady, I turn off the water. The bathroom grows quiet except for dripping on tile and Ezra’s breath. Pepper steps out carefully. I wrap a towel around her before drying Ezra’s shoulders with another.

He watches me.

“What?” I ask.

“You’re scrubbing.”

“There’s mud on you.”

“There was mud on me.”

I slow my hands. The towel moves over the scar I put on his body when we were boys.

Ezra catches the edge of the towel. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Trying to clean up a problem that isn’t dirt.”

Pepper tucks the towel beneath her arms and moves between us. “We should go upstairs.”

“You need food,” I say.

“I need both of you to stop standing in a bathroom pretending this is only about wet clothes.”

Ezra’s mouth lifts faintly. “She’s terrifying when she’s correct.”

“I’m terrifying all the time. People underestimate me because of the head scarves.”

Pepper takes my hand and Ezra’s. She leads us out of the bathroom. I follow because she asks.

The attic nest is warm and dim. Rain taps the window overlooking the channel. The blankets we left piled after her heat have been rebuilt. Tonight, the nest looks too soft for what waits outside in the dark.

Pepper drops her towel beside the stairs. My body responds before my thoughts catch up.

Her damp curls fall over her shoulders. Water shines along the curve of her breasts and across the soft fullness of her stomach. The night has left a faint scrape near one knee.

My alpha rises with a low growl.

Pepper’s scent warms. Vanilla rolls into the room beneath rosemary and peppermint. Ezra steps behind her and kisses her shoulder.

Pepper leans back against him, then looks at me. “Stop mourning him before he goes anywhere.”