Chapter 21: Closer

Words : 775 Updated : Sep 10th, 2025

Chapter 21 – Lenora POV It’s minuscule—but it’s progress. And for me, that’s everything. I hold onto that tiny spark like it’s a lifeline, let it soak into my bones and soften the ache that’s lived in my chest since the moment I brought him here. He came to me. Sat beside me. Spoke first. He didn’t flinch when our legs touched. He didn’t walk away. In fact... I think he stayed just a little longer than he meant to. The porch swing creaks behind me as I stand, still feeling the ghost of his presence in the air beside me. My fingertips tingle with the echo of closeness, with the electricity of what could be—if I’m patient enough. Brave enough. I walk inside the cottage quietly, careful not to wake Dad in the next room. He’s been giving us space, pretending not to notice the thick, awkward tension that hangs between Cameron and me like storm clouds waiting to burst. But I know he sees it. He always does. The house is dim, only the soft amber light over the kitchen stove still on. I pad across the wooden floors, my steps slow, and pour myself a glass of water from the jug in the fridge. I sip, but what I really want is to scream. Or cry. Or run outside and shift until my paws are sore and the moonlight burns into my fur. But I don’t. Because tonight... there’s hope. Even if it’s a sliver. I glance toward the hallway. His door is closed. My mate is asleep behind that door—or maybe just lying awake, trying to untangle this mess the universe threw in his lap. I place the glass in the sink and rest my palms on the counter, staring out the window into the dark. Somewhere in those woods, our bond was sealed. My wolf knew his before I even saw his face. And when I did... Goddess help me, it was over. I fell. Completely. * We’re getting closer—my mate and I. It’s subtle, sure, like the way a crack widens in stone under rain and time. But it’s real. Minuscule progress, yes. A shared glance that lasts too long. An unspoken truce when our hands brush near the coffee pot. My wolf practically hums with delight. She wants to run with him in the woods, nose to nose, breath syncing in the dark. She wants him to chase her. Unfortunately for her, girl that’s not happening anytime soon. "So... about your dad?" Cameron asks, motioning toward the closed door down the hall. I glance toward it out of instinct. The wood is scuffed from years of use, a little warped at the base. Familiar. Heavy. "Yeah," I answer softly. His tone is careful—typical Cameron. Always controlled, always gentle when it matters. "Is he... okay?" he asks, and I realize suddenly—he’s never met him. We’ve lived in the same house for weeks now, but my father never leaves that room. "No," I admit. "He hasn’t been. Not since my mother died. His mate." I choose my words slowly, not wanting to spook him. He’s still hesitant about the bond, and bringing up mating always makes him go stiff, like I’m speaking a different language. Cameron frowns, arms folded over his chest. He’s leaning against the counter in that way he does when he’s thinking—brows furrowed, face unreadable, but eyes sharp. Always watching. "What do you mean?" I inhale, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "When she died, it broke him. He didn’t shift for a year. Barely spoke. It was like... like he died too, just slower. I’m the only reason he’s still here, and even then—he spends most days asleep. He doesn’t eat much. Doesn’t speak unless spoken to. And even then..." I trail off, shaking my head. Cameron stays quiet. I know he’s processing. It’s what he does. But his silence still stings a little. Finally, he speaks. "So... the whole mate thing. It’s a big deal." I laugh, short and dry. "Yeah. You could say that." He nods, then hesitates before asking, "So what hurts more—rejection or loss?" I whip my head toward him. His gaze falters, just for a second. "I didn’t mean it like that," he says quickly, hands half-raised in apology. "I was just curious. Trying to understand." I force a smile. A safe one. Non-threatening. "It’s like comparing a stab wound to a burn," I say. "They both hurt like hell, just differently. A burn lingers. A stab shocks you. But either way, you’re bleeding." Cameron presses his lips together, and for once, he doesn’t have a neat, rational reply.

Chapter 21: Closer

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