Chapter 23 I want you

Chapter 23 I want you
Jolie pov

He squeezes my hand again. "You're part of the pack now." His eyes meet mine. "That means something here."

We make it to the kitchen before I start crying again. But this time, I think they might be good tears.



Doc's already there with food laid out—soup, bread, fruit. Simple stuff that won't upset my stomach. He takes one look at me and his expression softens.

He gestures to the table with one large hand. "Sit." His voice is gentle despite his size. "Eat what you can."

I sit and pick at the bread, tearing off small pieces. Ryder pulls up a chair beside me, close enough that I can feel his warmth.

Luna slips in through the back door, her dark eyes assessing me carefully. "You look better."

I manage a small smile. "Better than what?"

Luna pulls up a chair across from us, spinning it backward to straddle it. "Better than death." She softens it with a grin. "That's the bar we're working with."

A surprised laugh escapes me. Small, but real.

They sit there while I eat—Doc pretending to organize his medical supplies, Luna scrolling through her phone, Ryder just watching me. Making sure I'm okay. Making sure I know I'm not alone.

I make it through half the soup before I push the bowl away. "I'm sorry." I wipe my mouth with a napkin. "I can't eat anymore."

Doc nods, already packing up the rest in a container. "That's fine." He seals the lid with a click. "Little and often. Your stomach needs time to adjust."

I look around at the three of them, my eyes moving from face to face. "Thank you." My voice catches. "For taking care of me."

Luna reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "That's what pack does."

The words settle over me like a blanket. I nod, blinking back fresh tears.

Ryder stands, holding out his hand. "Come on." He tilts his head toward the door. "Let's get you back to bed."

I take his hand and let him pull me up. We make it three steps before my knees buckle.

He catches me before I hit the floor, sweeping me up into his arms. I hate how weak I feel. How little I must weigh in his arms. It's embarrassing.

I don't protest, just curl into his chest. "I hate being weak."

He carries me toward the hallway. "You're not weak." He adjusts his grip. "You're recovering. There's a difference."

I rest my head against his shoulder. "Feels the same to me."

He pushes open my door with his foot. "Then you're not paying attention."

He carries me back to my room and sets me gently on the bed. I don't let go of his neck immediately, my fingers curled in his shirt.

I look up at him through my lashes. "Will you stay?" My voice comes out small. "Just for a little while?"

For a moment, I think he'll say yes. I can see the want in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens.

But he carefully untangles my fingers from his shirt. "I shouldn't." His voice comes out rough. "Not yet."

My face falls. "Oh." I pull back. "Right. Of course."

He cups my face in both hands, forcing me to look at him. "Not because I don't want to." He makes sure I hear the truth. "Because I want you soo  much. And you need rest, not me losing control."

Understanding dawns. "Oh."

He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead, lingering longer than he should. "Sleep." He pulls back reluctantly. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

I nod, settling back against the pillows. "Ryder?" I catch his hand before he can move away. "Thank you. For everything."

He squeezes my hand once. "Always."

He makes it to the door before I speak again, my voice drowsy. "I'm glad you found me."

I'm already half-asleep when I hear his response, quiet and rough. "Me too, Little Ash. Me too."



Three days later, I'm stronger. Still pale, still tired, but eating regularly and keeping down food. Doc's pleased with my progress.

I find Ryder in the garage working on his bike. I'm wearing jeans and one of his t-shirts, my hair pulled back in a messy bun.

I lean against the workbench. "Can we talk?"

He straightens up, wiping grease off his hands with a rag. "Always." He tosses the rag aside. "What's on your mind?"

I fidget with the hem of the shirt. "About what happened during my heat." I can't meet his eyes. "About us."

He keeps his voice neutral. "Okay."

I take a breath. "You called me your mate." I finally look up. "Did you mean it?"

He sets down the wrench he's holding. "Yes."

I wrap my arms around myself. "But we haven't... I mean, we're not..." I trail off, frustrated. "I don't know what we are."

He moves closer, giving me space to back away if I want. I don't. "What do you want us to be?"

I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. "I don't know." My voice drops. "I've never... I don't have experience with this kind of thing."

He reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "We don't have to figure it all out right now." He lets his hand linger on my cheek. "We can take this slow."

I lean into his touch. "What if I don't want to be slow?"

His whole body goes still. Something flashes in his eyes—heat, hunger and restraint.

"Jolie," he says, and my name sounds like a warning.

I step closer, closing the distance between us. "I'm tired of being afraid." I place my hand on his chest, right over his heart. "Tired of waiting for permission to want things."

He covers my hand with his. "This isn't something you can take back." His eyes search mine. "Once we cross this line, everything changes."

I hold his gaze, steady and sure. "I know." I rise up on my toes. "I want everything to change."