Page 77 of Taming of a Wolf

“The light was yellow. I usually stop for those, just to be safe, but we were running late for dinner. I thought I had time to make it. It was dumb. It was just some stupid dinner reservations. I should have waited, I—”

“Pet. What happened next?” Anders squeezes my shoulder.

“Th-this drunk guy in a pickup truck came in barreling in from my right just as I reached the intersection.”

I’ll never forget the way mom screamed seconds before he slammed into her side of the vehicle. Glass had exploded around us, metal shrieking as it bent and snapped. The collision knocked my head into the window, and I passed out.

When I woke up, my normal life was gone. I was in a hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and wires. I had a concussion. Broken ribs. A jagged scar across my hip where shrapnel had sliced into me.

The doctor came in and told me the words that tore my world to shreds.

Mr. Sullivan, I’m so sorry. Both your parents were killed.

She told me my mom died the moment the car struck her side of the vehicle. It was quick. Painless. My father clung on just long enough to get to the hospital but died before they could treat his wounds.

I didn’t feel anything. It didn’t make sense. Couldn’t be real. My parents were alive; they were just too hurt to come and see me. I demanded to see them. I had to. I knew they were alive. I clung onto my denial with everything I had. When Gran showed up with Jace, their eyes were red and wet, faces blotchy from crying.

Gran said,I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. They’re gone, both of them.

How could this have happened? Why my family? Why not someone else’s?

I should have been more careful. This was all my fault. If I’d just waited, if I’d insisted we stay home, if I had doneanythingdifferently that night, they would still be here.

By the time I finish speaking, tears soak my cheeks. I’ve never been able to tell this story without crying, so I stopped telling it. I’ve been torn open all over again, and I don’t know how to put myself back together. The dark despair of that horrible night fastens its hooks in me and tugs, dragging me down.

Then Anders’s arms are around me, holding me to his chest. His big, warm hands run up and down my back. My face is mashed against his shoulder, and he’s all I can feel and touch and smell. He kisses my hair, then the shell of my ear, and whispers, “It wasn’t your fault, Jamie. It wasn’t.”

I break apart. For the first time in so many years, I break down in gut-wrenching sobs that leave me utterly defenseless. All I can do is cling to him as he strokes my back and whispers sweet words I don’t deserve.

When there are no more tears left for me to cry, I lie against his wet chest, too drained to move. I hate that Anders had to see me like this. “Sorry,” I croak. “I’ll get you a new shirt.”

He sits up, still holding me close. “Let’s bathe. I’ll get the water running.”

Anders goes into the bathroom and turns on the faucet in the tub. To keep myself busy, I eat the rest of the steak, and theplate is clean when Anders returns. “Come on. The water isn’t too hot.”

I only grunt, feeling like my limbs are made of gelatin as he helps me stand up. In the bathroom, I go to peel off his shirt, but Anders bats my hands away. He strips me of my shirt, tossing it over the towel rack, then unbuttons my jeans. When I step out of them, Anders pulls down my underwear.

“Your turn.” I help him undress, cheeks warming as I throw his snotty, tear-soaked shirt on the ground. “We’ll have to burn that.”

“Why?” He snorts. “Just wash it. Tears and snot are hardly the worst thing I’ve had on me.”

Once Anders is naked, I dip my toe in the water. It’s warm but not scalding. He gets in first, then urges me to join him. We sink into the water together, my back to his chest. The warm water eases all the aches and pains of the day, on the outside anyway. But it’s Anders’s powerful body behind me and his tender touch as he rubs a soapy cloth over my skin that helps heal all the cracks in my heart.

“Thanks for not running for the hills.” I give his hand a squeeze.

I can practically see his bewildered expression. “Running from what?”

“Me. Most of the guys I’ve dated in the past didn’t want to stick around when I get… like I was today. Sad. Closed off. I don’t blame them.”

“Those men you dated before,” Anders says with a growly undercurrent in his voice, “are they still alive?”

Snorting, I pinch his thigh. “Stop it. Besides, they’re ancient history.”

Grumbling, Anders shifts behind me. His soft cock rubs along the cleft of my buttocks. I’m way too drained for sex; otherwise, I’d love to take advantage of our nakedness. But just sitting likethis, naked and enjoying each other’s company, is nice. Really nice.

“I don’t like the idea of anyone mistreating you.”

Smiling, I caress his arm. “They weren’t bad. I pushed people away to keep myself safe. You’re the only guy who pushed back and fought for me.” My voice wavers. “Thank you.”

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