Page 73 of Book Boyfriends
“At times,” he admits quietly.
My head tilts. “At times?”
He scrubs his hands down his face. “At home, I’m alpha. I’m responsible for my entire pack. Their safety. Their needs. Everything. Here, I just get to think about myself. What I want. What I need. Not what I’m supposed to do.”
It’s how I wrote Lars. He has such big, broad shoulders because he carries the weight of everything on them. My werewolf may be snarky and flirtatious, but he’s also deeply grounded in caring for others. Until now, I had no idea the toll that burden has on him.
“I never thought of how hard all that responsibility would be on you.” My apologetic gaze meets his.
Lars’s story arc is about letting go of that responsibility. The push and pull between Ivy and him is about his reluctance to step away out of fear of what would happen to his pack. The idea of that responsibility’s pressure on him never bled into my narrative, nor is it in my character study for him.
“I’d imagine you can relate to the pressure.” He juts his chin toward me.
“Hardly, I’m not the alpha. I’m just me.”
He huffs a dismissive laugh. “Just a woman who takes responsibility for ensuring everyone is happy but herself.”
“Excuse me?” I scoff.
“I know you plan to pick whichever one of us you think would be least impacted, so the others can hopefully get back.” He picks up his bottle of beer and takes a long pull.
“How?” Eyes narrowed, I point at him. “Owen.”
“The baker can’t keep a secret to save his life.”
“Does James know?”
“Just me.” He places his hand on his chest. “And as honest as I am, I can keep secrets. I assume you don’t want your brother to know that you’re willing to sacrifice your happiness for us. To let him believe this little charade that one of us is meant for you.”
“He worries enough.”
“I know.” His mouth curves down. “You both have such big hearts. It’s why he’s so invested in you finding someone. Not just for the wedding, but for the long haul. He’s hopeful that if you’re always going to focus on everyone else’s happiness, there will be one person that focuses onyours.”
“Ugh,” I groan, tossing my head back. “To take care of me? How did my feminist mother raise two sexist men?”
“Jackson isn’t sexist. He’s just a little protective of you, but not for the reason you think.” His fingers balance the beer bottle, rolling it against the table’s surface. “It’s more about protecting that big heart of yours, rabbit. He worries that you give so muchto others, that you don’t leave enough for yourself. That, with the right person, they’d help you with either holding onto some of that or give you some of theirs to replenish you.”
Tapping my fingers against the table’s surface in rhythm with the slam of axes, I mentally flip through my life’s big and little decisions. My plan to attend Lena and Will’s wedding. My decision not to study English. One may argue—at least I know Jackson would—most of my relationship with Will found me sacrificing my wants and needs for his.
“A friend of mine recently said I’m a little too fixated on endings,” I say.
“Of course you are. Call it people pleasing or an overwhelming sense of duty, we’re both obsessed with how things turn out. We do what’s needed to ensure everyone else’s happiness, and the best way to keep them that way is to know it’s their happy ending. It’s not right or wrong, it’s just who we are.”
“And which one am I? People pleaser or just uber-responsible?”
He studies me. “Based on what Jackson has shared, and my own observation, you’re a little of column A and B.”
I open my mouth to protest, but close it without speaking. He’s not wrong, but he’s not entirely right.
“Which are you?” I ask.
“Definitely column B.” Chuckling, he curls his fingers around the bottle, lifts it to his mouth, but stops. “Though, it doesn’t matter because whatever the reason, it costs us the things we truly want, because we’re so focused on everyone else.”
“And what about you?”
For the first time, Lars can focus on what he wants rather than what’s best for his pack. Jackson may want me to find someone who replenishes me, but what if I’m meant to be that for Lars? Not in a romantic way, but as a friend.
“You already wrote my happy ending.” He leans back, taking another swig.
