I Definitely Won't Break

I Definitely Won't Break
Nathan

I didn’t bother with a polite knock. Kane had made the call: Ruthanne was moving in with me until Amelia’s heat ran its course. The Alpha’s word wasn’t up for debate, and the longer I stood out in the hall, the more time she had to stew over it. Better to rip the bandage clean.
The door creaked as I pushed it open. Ruthanne was already sitting on the bed, back straight, hands folded over a satchel at her feet. Her eyes cut to me the instant I entered, cool and steady, but I didn’t miss the stiffness in her shoulders.
“You’re packed already,” I said, nodding at the bag.
Her fingers tightened around the strap. “Didn’t have much to bring.”

I stepped inside, grinning like this was no big deal. “Perfect. I was worried I’d need to clear out half my room for you. Less stuff, less tripping hazards.”
The faintest flicker crossed her face, something softer than the usual wall of silence.
I scooped up the satchel before she could argue. She didn’t let go right away, her knuckles white, but then she loosened her grip, watching me sling it easily over my shoulder.
“My room’s bigger anyway,” I told her. “You’ll like it. Actual windows, better view. And I only snore half the night.”
Her brow arched, a subtle move. “…That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“Yes,” I said solemnly. “That’s my best-selling point. That and my world-class cooking. Just don’t ask me to fry eggs. The pan and I have a complicated relationship.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Progress.
I jerked my chin toward the hall. “Come on, Ruthie. Don’t make me carry you, too.”

She stood slowly, smoothing the front of her shirt like she could press the tension out of herself. For a moment, she just stood there, like she might retreat back onto the bed. Then she drew a breath and stepped toward me, her chin lifting a fraction.
“I don’t want to inconvenience you,” she said quietly.
“You’re not,” I told her, voice firm. “This isn’t about convenience. Kane doesn’t want you listening through the walls while he knots her into next week. My place is the best option. Plus, I would have moved you in with me the moment I saw you.”

Her cheeks colored faintly, but she didn’t argue. She just glanced down at her hands, fingers curling into her palms.
I softened my tone, leaning a little closer. “Hey. It’s not exile, Ruthanne. You’re not being pushed aside. You’re just moving in with me. Safer, easier, less awkward for everyone. That’s all.”
She nodded once, still not looking at me.

Pushing her never worked. I’d learned that quick. Better to coax, to give her room, and wait for the cracks to show.
So I smiled, easy again. “Besides, if you’re living with me, you get first pick of my liquor stash. That’s premium Beta privilege. You won’t find better whiskey in the mountain.”
That earned me a flick of her gaze, just for a second. Her lips parted like she might answer, but instead she shook her head faintly, muttering, “You’re impossible.”
“Thank you,” I said warmly. “I do my best.”

I motioned to the door, stepping aside so she could pass. She hesitated only a breath before moving past me, her steps quiet on the stone floor. The faint brush of her arm against mine when she slipped by sent a sharp awareness down my spine, though I didn’t let it show on my face.
I followed her into the hall, her satchel slung casually over my shoulder, my voice light. “You’ll see. My place is much better than this room. Big windows, bigger bed. Plenty of space for you to glare at me in peace.”

This time, her lips curved the smallest fraction before flattening again, as if she’d caught herself.
And I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face.
Because no matter how much she wanted to hide it, Ruthanne was softening. Little by little.
And I was going to be there for every step of it.

The walk across the yard wasn’t long, but it was long enough for people to notice. Every set of eyes flicked our way. Not hostile. Just curious.
I lifted a hand here, nodded there. Kept the conversation on my part easy, casual. I caught the little shifts and the sideways glances that landed on her more than me.
Ruthanne kept her gaze down, her hair covering her scar as I led her to my house.
“Don’t mind them,” I said lightly, pitching my voice just for her. “They’re not staring at you. They’re staring at me, wondering how I got so handsome.”
Her eyes flicked toward me, flat as a lake in winter. “…Right.”
I grinned. “See? You don’t even deny it.”
That earned me a faint shake of her head.

By the time we reached my place, the glances and whispers had faded behind us. I stopped at the door, pushing it open with my shoulder and stepping in first.
It wasn’t much, but it was mine. A main room with a hearth, shelves lined with books and gear, the scent of pine oil sharp from the wood I’d polished not two days ago. A door off to the side led into the bedroom. Everything neat, everything ordered.
I set her satchel down on the table and turned back to find her standing just inside the threshold, eyes moving over the space like she was mapping it.
“Not bad, huh?” I said.
Her brow lifted slightly. “You clean?”
I pressed a hand to my chest, feigning offense. “Ruthie. I’m wounded. Of course I clean. You think the dust fairies come in here on their own?”
Her gaze lingered on the books for a moment, then the bed visible through the half-open door. “You live here alone.”
“Always,” I said, softer this time. “But not tonight.”

Her eyes darted back to me at that, sharp for a second, like I’d caught her off guard. Then she looked down, shifting her weight.
I leaned back against the table, folding my arms across my chest. “You can relax. I’ll be on my best behavior. You get the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
Her lips parted, “…That doesn’t seem fair to you.”
“Trust me,” I said with a crooked grin. “The couch and I have a long-standing agreement. It knows all my sharp corners.”
That pulled the faintest sound out of her. A breath, maybe a huff, but it was close enough to a laugh that I claimed it as a win.

Her fingers brushed the wood as if she couldn’t help it. “These…they’re carved,” she said softly, almost to herself.
“Mm,” I said, dropping her satchel onto the table. “Not bad, huh?”
She tilted her head, tracing a line with one fingertip. “They’re detailed. Careful. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”
I leaned against the table, folding my arms. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Her gaze flicked to me, wary. “You made these?”
I shrugged. “Every bit of it. Started when I was a kid, when my old man was trying to keep me busy and out of trouble. Turns out I liked working with my hands. Still do.”
She was quiet for a long moment, looking over the trim again. “It’s…beautiful.”
I grinned, unable to stop it. “You’d be the first one to say that about my handiwork. Usually I just get complaints about splinters.”
Her lips twitched. “Then they weren’t paying attention.”

For the first time, her voice held something warm. Genuine. And it hit me harder than I expected, that little note of approval from her.
I let the moment hang before saying, more softly, “You can touch whatever you like in here, Ruthanne. Nothing’s too fragile.”