Page 34 of Whisker me Away
They stood in comfortable silence, autumn wind rustling through the trees while Freya apparently held an internal conversation with her grandmother's memory. Kieran found himself studying the headstone's details, noting how the carved roses matched the heritage blooms that had started this whole crisis.
"She would have liked you," Freya said finally. "Grandmother Sage had a soft spot for broken things that refused to stay broken."
"I'm not broken."
"Aren't you?" She turned to face him, her eyes holding gentle understanding. "We're both walking around with pieces missing, Kieran. Yours from being abandoned too often, mine from losing the person who defined my entire world. Maybe that's why this works."
The bond hummed between them, responding to her honesty. This was right. Standing here beside his fated mate, sharing her grief and fears and hopes, felt more real than anything he'd experienced in thirty-two years of careful emotional distance.
"Freya," he started, then stopped when footsteps approached through the cemetery paths.
Rowan appeared between the headstones carrying a bouquet of autumn flowers, his face going through multiple phases of emotions. The man's brown showed quiet devastation that camefrom watching someone you loved slip away despite all your efforts to hold on.
"I'm sorry," Rowan said, his voice carefully neutral. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I just brought these for Sage." He held up the flowers, their bright colors stark against the gray granite. "She always loved my fall arrangements."
The intimacy of Rowan knowing Freya's grandmother well enough to bring her favorite flowers, the implication of years spent as part of the Bloom family circle - made Kieran feel like an intruder in his own destiny. This man had history with Freya, established connection, the kind of deep roots that couldn't be replicated by supernatural recognition.
"Thank you," Freya said softly. "She did love your flowers. Especially the chrysanthemums."
"I remember." Rowan moved to place the bouquet against the headstone with practiced familiarity. "She used to say they reminded her of sunshine when the days got short."
Kieran watched the exchange with growing tension, his tiger prowling restlessly at the domestic scene playing out before him. Rowan belonged here in ways that had nothing to do with mate bonds or supernatural necessity. He was part of Freya's history, her community, her chosen family.
While Kieran was still the outsider who'd needed Miriam's intervention to find his place in Hollow Oak.
But then Freya stepped closer to Kieran, her shoulder brushing against his arm in a gesture of unconscious support. The simple contact was electric, and Kieran caught the way her magic responded to his presence with recognition.
Rowan saw it too. The other man's brown eyes tracked the movement, noting how naturally Freya gravitated toward Kieran despite her obvious guilt. When she didn't immediately step away from the contact, something shifted in Rowan'sexpression. The careful neutrality cracked, revealing raw pain underneath.
"I see," Rowan said quietly, the hurt in his voice made Freya flinch. "So this is how it ends. Not with an honest conversation, but with me stumbling onto proof that I never really had a chance."
"Rowan, please," Freya started, but he held up a hand.
"No. I think I've been patient long enough. Understanding long enough. Standing aside while you figure out your feelings long enough." His gentle demeanor hardened into something more determined. "If you're going to choose him, Freya, at least have the courage to say it to my face."
The challenge made Kerian’s tiger surge with territorial instincts, ready to defend his claim, but he forced himself to remain still. This was Freya's choice to make, her battle to fight.
Even if watching her struggle with it was killing him.
19
FREYA
The cemetery air grew thick with tension as Rowan's challenge hung between them. Freya felt the weight of his pain, Kieran's barely leashed intensity, and her grandmother's presence all pressing down on her with equal force. Two good men stood waiting for her answer, and she finally understood that there was no way to choose without destroying someone she cared about.
"Rowan," she started, but he shook his head.
"No more excuses, Freya. No more asking for time or saying you're confused." His brown eyes held quiet dignity even as devastation carved lines around them. "I've loved you patiently for over a year. I've waited while you figured out your feelings, supported you through your grandmother's death, stood by while you built your independence. But I won't watch you slip away without fighting for what we could have."
The sincerity broke her. Here was a man who'd never asked for more than she could give, who'd offered partnership and stability and everything logical her mind told her she should want. A man who deserved better than being second choice to supernatural destiny.
"You're right," she said quietly. "You deserve honesty. You deserve better than someone who can't love you the way you love her."
Rowan's face went pale, but he held her gaze steadily. "So there it is. After everything we've shared, everything we could build together, you're choosing him."
"I'm not choosing anyone." The words came out sharper than she intended, frustration bleeding through her careful control. "Don't you understand? This isn't about choice anymore. It's about survival. Mine, the town's, everyone we care about."
"Bullshit." Rowan's voice cracked with emotion, his usual gentleness replaced by raw hurt. "This is about you being too scared to admit you want something that doesn't make sense. Something dangerous and unpredictable instead of safe and logical."
