Page 62 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
He trails off, and I can see him struggling to regain his composure. The silence between us feels awkward and heavy.
“Andrew?” I take a tentative step closer. “Are you alright? You don’t look like you’re very happy to see me.”
“No, no, I’m fine.” He forces a laugh that doesn’t sound genuine. “You just—You caught me by surprise. I never thought you’d actually...” He shakes his head. “Come here.”
He crosses the space between us and pulls me into his arms. The embrace is tight, almost desperate, but there’s something off about it. His body is tense, and I can feel his heart racing against my chest.
“I had to leave,” I say quietly against his shoulder, trying to recapture the comfort I used to feel in his presence. “Things got dangerous with the pack.”
He pulls back at once, his hands gripping my shoulders. His eyes search my face with an intensity that feels almost frantic. “Dangerous how? What happened? Did anyone follow you here? Does anyone know where you’ve gone?”
The rapid-fire questions catch me off guard. There’s panic in his voice, as if he’s afraid of the answers.
“I don’t think anyone followed me,” I say slowly. “I was careful. I made it look like I died in the forest.”
Relief flashes across his face so quickly, I almost miss it. “Th–That’s good. Smart thinking.” He pauses, seeming to gather himself. “I’m sorry, I’m just—This is such a shock. A wonderful shock,” he adds quickly. “I just never imagined...”
“You never imagined I’d actually leave?” I finish when he trails off again.
“Something like that.” He releases my shoulders and takes a step back, running his hand through his hair again. “Look, we can’t talk here. Too many ears. Let me—Let me take you somewhere private.”
As we move through the streets, I try to match my pace to his longer strides, but he’s walking too fast, almost like he’s fleeing something. The late afternoon sun casts everything in golden light, but the atmosphere between us feels strained. Nothing like the joyful reunion I imagined.
“So, you actually left,” he says, more to himself than to me. “You actually did it.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am surprised.” He glances at me sideways. “I never thought you’d have the courage.”
The words sting more than they should. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“That’s not what I meant.” But his tone suggests that maybe it is exactly what he meant. “I just—You always seemed so resigned to your situation. Content, even.”
“Content?” I stop and put my hands on my hips. “Andrew, I told you how miserable I was. How badly they treated me.”
“You did. You did.” He turns to face me, and out of the blue, his expression completely changes. The strained smile becomes warmer, more genuine. “But that’s all behind you now, isn’t it? You’re here with me.” He moves closer, taking my hands in his. “My brave girl. You actually did it. You escaped.”
The shift in his demeanor is so sudden, it catches me off guard. His eyes are bright now, excited even, and the tension I sensed earlier seems to be melting away.
“I’m proud of you,” he continues, his voice gaining warmth and enthusiasm. “I know how hard it must have been to leave everything you knew. But you did it for us, didn’t you? For our future together.”
I nod, feeling some of my uncertainty ease at his obvious joy. This is more like the Andrew I remember from our meetings—kind, caring, genuinely pleased to see me.
“I can’t believe you’re really here,” he says, pulling me close again. This time, the embrace feels different, more natural. “All those years of waiting, of hoping you’d find the strength to leave. And you did.”
As we resume walking, his whole posture is different. He’s walking more slowly now, his arm around my waist as he points out various shops and landmarks with growing excitement.
“Here we are,” he says eventually, stopping in front of a small inn with faded paint and narrow windows. “It’s not the fanciest place in town, but it’s clean and safe. Perfect for you to rest while I make arrangements.”
“Arrangements?” I look up at the modest building, confusion settling in my chest. “I thought—Aren’t we going to your home?”
“Oh, Astra.” His smile is gentle and understanding. “I wish we could, but it wouldn’t be right. Small towns like this? People talk. I want to do this properly, treat you with the respect you deserve.” He cups my face tenderly. “Besides, my place is a mess right now. I’m fixing it up, making it perfect for when we’re married.”
The explanation makes sense, but disappointment still settles heavily over me. After the long journey to get here, all I want is to curl up somewhere safe with him beside me.
“Just for a night or two,” he promises, apparently able to read my expression. “Just until I can get everything arranged. The wedding, the paperwork, all of it.”
“When can we get married?” I ask, grasping for the future I came here to claim.
