Page 15 of Bronx

“Those were the days,” Ryker said, reminiscing about their childhood adventures. “We learned so much from exploring the park, didn’t we, Bronx?”

Bronx nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, but he remained silent. Cora tried to concentrate on the stories and laughter shared by Ryker and Steele, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Bronx. She wondered what he was thinking as he sat there so quietly among his family and friends.

Cora considered the possibility that he was upset about being asked to choose her as a mate, and tiny beads of sweat formed along her hairline. It wasn’t fair to him—she knew that. But the thought of someone like Bronx, strong and protective, showing interest in her sent butterflies fluttering through her stomach.

“Bronx,” she ventured cautiously, trying to gauge his mood, “are you enjoying the meal?”

He looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers. “Yes, it’s delicious,” he replied softly, offering a small smile that did little to ease her disquiet. His gaze quickly shifted back down to his plate, leaving Cora unsure of what to make of his curt response.

“Can I get you more mashed potatoes?” offered Ryker, breaking Cora’s fixation on Bronx. She shook her head, forcing a smile onto her face.

“No thanks, I’ve had plenty,” she replied, glancing back at Bronx one more time.

As the dinner continued, Cora found herself growing increasingly restless, her thoughts consumed by the man sitting across from her. Every time she tried to engage him in conversation, he would respond politely but succinctly, never giving her much to work with.

Is he angry? Disappointed?She couldn’t tell, and it was driving her mad.

“Can’t believe it’s been two months since our battle with the Idaho Pack,” Ryker remarked, his tone light but tinged with a hint of seriousness. “And yet there are still so many loose ends to tie up.”

“Absolutely,” Steele said. “It was a necessary action, but the repercussions have been far-reaching.”

As they continued talking about the battle, Cora watched Bronx. His blond hair seemed to glow in the soft candlelight, and his eyes remained focused on his plate. Despite his silence, the strength radiating from him was unmistakable. A sudden memory tugged at the edges of her mind: a wounded shifter in the small Moonstone hospital, one she had helped bandage and care for the night after the battle. The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning—that shifter had been Bronx.

Cora’s cheeks heated as she recalled the intimate moments spent changing his bandages, her fingers trembling as she traced the lines of his muscular form. His body had been a tapestry of strength and beauty, marred only by the wounds he had sustained in the battle. She’d felt awe and tenderness as she cared for him, an emotion that now threatened to bubble up once more.

“Hey, Cora.” Mila’s gentle voice pulled her from her thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet over there.”

Cora blinked, trying to regain her composure. “Oh, um, I’m just…thinking about everything that’s happened. It’s been quite overwhelming.”

“Understandable,” Ivy said, her eyes softening with empathy. “We’ve all been through a lot lately.”

As the conversation swirled around her, Cora continued to steal furtive glances at Bronx. Each time their eyes met, even for a fleeting moment, she felt a shiver run through her, a mix of anxious anticipation and something else. Maybe an unspoken connection?

“Pass the salt, please,” Steele requested, his voice a deep rumble.

“Sure,” Bronx responded, his muscular arm reaching out to pass the condiment across the table.

Suddenly, Cora couldn’t tear her eyes away from Bronx, finding herself captivated by the way his shirt stretched over his strong shoulders and broad chest. She knew firsthand what lay beneath those clothes—the powerful muscles, the battle scars that spoke of strength and resilience. Her memories of their time in the hospital surfaced again, stealing her breath as she recalled the smooth planes of his body, the sinewy lines of his arms. Even when the talk around the table drew her attention, Cora found herself constantly pulled back to Bronx, her eyes tracing the outline of his body through the fabric of his clothing.

“Are you okay?” Mila whispered, leaning in close enough that only Cora could hear her gentle inquiry.

“Fine,” Cora replied, attempting to sound nonchalant but unable to keep the tremor from her voice. “Just a little…preoccupied.”

“Understandable,” Mila murmured, reaching over and giving Cora’s hand a reassuring squeeze before resuming her own meal.

Cora glanced at Bronx once more, and this time, their eyes locked. She felt her pulse quicken, her breath catching in her throat as she considered the depth of emotion that seemed to mirror her own. Was it possible that he felt the same way? Or was this all just a product of her overactive imagination?

“Hey,” Bronx said softly. “You doing okay?”

“I am,” Cora said with a nod, surprised by how much she meant it.

As they shared a small smile, Cora realized some things were worth facing head-on—fears, uncertainties, and perhaps even newfound attractions. And as the evening wore on, she found herself daring to hope that maybe Bronx would prove her wrong about shifter males—that he’d prove love could exist for her and her child.

Finally, as the plates were cleared away and the night grew late, Cora knew she couldn’t put off her departure any longer. “I should get back to Samuel,” she said, pushing herself up from the table. “He’s been with one of the Moonstone Lodge staff members for quite a while now.”

“Of course.” Steele nodded in understanding. “You start at the café tomorrow, right?”

Cora nodded, trying to maintain a facade of ease despite the turmoil bubbling within her.

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