Chapter 108 108
Fabrice POV
“I made a mistake, and I intend to make it right. Once I find Geneviève, I’ll be out of your hair.” He says it like a promise, but I don’t buy it for a second.
“I don’t believe that any more than you do, Damien. I might not share their blood, but those are my children. And I won’t let you hurt them.” I lift a brow, then try to mind-link Aurélie to find out where she disappeared to but her block is firmly in place.
“I understand that,” he replies, “but you have your own problems now…”
“Oh?” I challenge. “And what would that be?”
He rises abruptly, dragging the fluid drip along with him, uncaring that the line tugs sharply at his arm.
“You have your own mate to focus on. One you’ll need to comfort especially now that you’re part of another family. One she can’t compete with.” His eyes lock onto mine. “You worry about your mate, and I’ll… and we should be fine.”
I discharge Damien from the hospital shortly after, satisfied that the rehydration has accelerated his healing. I walk him back to the Alpha house, where his warriors are already being assigned appropriate accommodations for the next few nights.
When we enter the kitchen, Florence is seated on the sofa with Delphine, the television playing a princess movie. I haven’t had a moment alone with her yet, and she’s traveled all this way to see me.
“No time like the present,” Damien murmurs into my ear, firm and unyielding. I hesitate, but he presses a hand to my lower back, nudging me toward the rear of the sofa before circling around and seating himself on Delphine’s other side.
“Florence…” I croak, removing my glasses and wiping them on the hem of my T-shirt. Why was I suddenly so damn nervous? “Could I have a word?”
She turns toward me with a frown before standing and walking out of the living room into the kitchen. She hops up onto the kitchen table, and I take the stool beside her.
Here goes nothing.
“What’s up?” she asks bluntly, her voice edged with cool distance.
Suddenly, I feel completely unprepared.
“I… I don’t actually know how to start,” I admit honestly, my nerves getting the better of me.
She studies me for a long moment, and then something shifts. The coldness fades, replaced by a warmth I haven’t felt from her before not once since we met. Aurélie had said something before we left, that she wanted to help Florence understand. Is that why she’s here? Is she finally seeing the larger picture?
“Then start from the beginning,” she says calmly.
So I do.
I tell her everything from my first visit to the Bloodnight pack to inspect their medical facilities, to not trusting myself to leave Aurélie alone, to never actually leaving at all. I tell her how Geneviève accused us of having an affair, claimed I was the father of Aurélie’s child, and how that accusation ignited the argument between Damien, Aurélie, and myself an argument that forced us to flee.
I tell her how Aurélie’s parents agreed I should take her to the lake house for a break, only for us to return and find the pack destroyed and her parents murdered.
Florence listens in silence, her hands folded together, thumbs rubbing absently against one another.
“Do you love her?” she asks.
The question is inevitable, yet it still catches me off guard.
“Yes,” I answer truthfully. “I love her.”
She shifts, clearly uncomfortable with the answer.
“She’s my best friend. My Alpha. And the mother of my children,” I continue quietly. “Because no matter what, Florence, I will always be a father figure to them. I can’t undo that. So yes I love her, and I love them.”
Maybe I’ve said too much. Maybe I’ve been more honest than I should have been.
But I don’t play games.
I’m a doctor. I know how fragile life is, how quickly it can change. Why waste time pretending? I choose to live as though each day might be my last.
She surprises me by reaching out and taking my hand.
“I know,” she says softly. “And I wouldn’t try to stop that. It’s just… a lot to take in. This isn’t how I imagined finding my mate. My mate already comes with a family that isn’t mine.”
The sadness in her eyes twists something painfully tight in my chest.
“I know,” I say. “And I’m sorry.”
“Don’t ever apologize for being a good man, Fabrice,” she replies. “You stepped up for her…” Her gaze flicks briefly toward the closed living room door, her voice lowering. “…when others didn’t.”
“So… we can try?” My heart stumbles, hope flaring despite my better judgment.
“Yes,” she says, a small smile curving her lips. “We’ll take things slow. But we can try.”
And just like that, the weight on my chest lifts, my heart feeling a thousand times lighter.