Chapter 20 - Devon

"Remember how when she first got here, you were all, ‘Oh my god, she's way too young' and ‘she can't handle this, I'm a monster; she's practically a teenager," Jonah said, elbowing Devon in the side as they made their way down the stairs. "And now look at her, your equal. Busting your balls, too, I bet."

"She's still too young for me," Devon grumbled, moving out of elbow range.

"Does she think that, or do you?" Jonah asked. "Seems to me she can't keep her hands off of you. Maybe she doesn't know about your daily prune habit."

Devon cracked his knuckles. "Should we take a detour to the gym and find out which one of us is the old man?"

Jonah held up his hands in surrender. "Hey man, I'm just trying to lighten the mood. We've got a serious mission to do and you look stressed as hell. Have some faith in Beth's plan. We'll be in and out before anyone spots us, and the plan will finally kick-off."

Devon forced himself to relax. He hadn't slept, tossing and turning all night until dawn, and coffee had only made him feel jittery rather than awake. Jonah, meanwhile, was bright-eyed and raring to go. They'd let him in on the plan since Beth was going to stay behind. It was too risky for her to go, but she hadn't wanted Devon to face it alone.

She'd marked the map with the tree"s location, deep in the Rosewood territory, and explained the best route to avoid contact with the other pack. Then she'd erased the mark, terrified the others would see it. Trust would take time to build.

He and Jonah made their way through the forest, treading unfamiliar ground. Beth's path took them a roundabout way, winding across an old plank bridge that spanned a chasm, a river far below, to a hilly field that must have been an orchard once, still dotted with twisted apple trees. Jonah rolled onto his back at the top of the hill, his stomach to the sun. They'd been running for hours, and Devon couldn't begrudge him the break, flopping down onto his side in the grass.

But he couldn't settle. Jonah's eyes lolled close, but Devon hopped to his feet and shook the dirt from his fur, nudging the other wolf awake with his nose. They continued on. He felt exposed outside of the tree cover, crossing meadows with an imaginary target on his back, scenting the wind every step for a hint of Rosewood. Their scent was present but faded here, as if it had been some time since they'd last passed the way.

Finally, they came to the tree. It stood alone; somehow, he knew it on sight and would have without Beth's description. There was something to it that asked for reverence. He left Jonah at the edge of the branches' reach and raced to the trunk, dropping the letter there. His heart didn't beat until he was back by Jonah's side.

Somehow, they'd pulled it off. He had trusted Beth, knew by that point that she would not take the opportunity to betray him by leading them through the Rosewood's most used paths, but his old habits were hard to shake, too used to betrayals and backstabs. His breathing didn't relax they were safely through the apple orchard and over the bridge.

"If Emma ever knew about a back way into the Rosewood lands," Jonah's thoughts echoed Devon's.

His sister would use that for battle, catching the Rosewoods unaware. It would be ugly, bloody, everything that Beth had been trying to avoid.

"She can never know." Not that he needed to tell Jonah twice, but his best friend still held a candle for Emma, no matter how many times she bit him.

Their return home was met with fanfare, and Emma and Beth were waiting on the deck for them, but for different reasons. Emma stalked the railing while Beth sat as far from her path as possible, watching the tree line for their shapes to appear.

"Welcome back," she said as they reached her.

Devon stooped to kiss her cheek. The faintest roundness now stretched her sundress, the telltale sign of their child inside her. She looked like perfection, sun-kissed rosy.

Emma rounded on them. "Where have you been? I know something is going on, Jonah wouldn't tell me where he was going and you know he's a terrible liar. It was obvious something was up."

Jonah looked sheepish, rubbing at his rumpled hair with one hand. "I just said we were heading out for the day. You've got such a suspicious mind, Em."

She shot him a dirty look then focused on Devon. "Well? Are you going to tell me or make me guess?"

Devon crossed his arms, refusing to be cowed by her. Beth was right, he couldn't rule the pack if he was forever in fear of his own sister cutting his legs out from under him. He had to trust that she'd meant her oath to Beth, that she'd abide by her decision to stay and behave.

"You'll find out with the rest of the pack when the time comes," he said, voice firm.

She was clearly struggling to accept his words, practically squirming in her skin, her mouth pressed to a thin line. "When will that be?"

Beth chimed in, "When the moment is right. You'll just have to wait until then. We can't tell you anything right now."

They had decided it was for the best that they wait until they heard back from the Rosewoods before they announced their plan. If the Rosewoods never responded, telling the pack ahead of time would just breed more trouble and calls to action. Between the two of them, they hadn't yet decided what the next move was if the Rosewoods did not respond, or denied their request outright.

It would leave them with few options. They would have to fight for the land, settle for the small strip they had, or leave the area entirely. None of the options were ideal. Beth was optimistic that the Rosewoods would take their offer into consideration, but Devon spent each night mentally preparing for the worst. After years of fighting and mistrust, he knew he wouldn't accept such a request from the Rosewoods, why would they?

Emma was fuming, a telltale streak of red creeping up her neck. "Is this how they do things back where you're from? A pack shouldn't keep secrets from each other."

Beth snorted. "Seriously, Emma? You've spent the past however long skulking around, trying everything in your power to unseat Devon apart from outright betrayal. You can't seriously be lecturing us on openness and honesty."

"I thought we were turning over a new leaf," Emma retorted.

"You first," Beth replied, leaning forward in her chair.

Emma looked away first, sauntering back inside as if the interaction hadn't bothered her.

"Can we trust her not to keep digging?" Beth asked when the door closed behind Emma. "She might be in there stirring up trouble right now. They could follow your scents if they really wanted to."

Beth twisted to peer in the windows of the house. Devon caught her chin and brought her attention back to him.

"Like Emma said, we're turning over a new leaf. She decided to stay and we have to trust that she meant what she said. It's out of our hands now." Devon perched on the arm of her chair, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded.

It wasn't easy, letting go of the tight control he'd tried to keep over the pack. He could blame many of the grey hairs sprouting from his head on it, he was certain. Beth sighed, a faraway look on her face.

"They'll get back to us," Devon said, nudging her with his shoulder. "Have faith."

***

Weeks went by without a response from the Rosewoods. Each day, Devon went to the spot where he had instructed them to leave a response; each day, he found it empty. He brought Jonah with him, and sometimes Beth, but feared an ambush when she was by his side. Cautious, he led them out at a different time each day, trying to be as unpredictable as possible.

Beth was beginning to unmistakably show now, her stomach pressing against her dressed and drawing the fabric tight. She'd felt the baby move inside of her, but Devon had yet to feel it from the outside, though he spent each night resting his hand on her stomach, wishing it to happen.

They'd started to turn one of the rooms into a nursery, painting the walls a sunny shade of yellow and pulling up Devon's old crib from the basement. He repainted it in a pale green, and Beth drew daisies on the side. The work of preparing for the child's arrival kept his mind from dwelling too long on Rosewood's silence.

Emma kept up her suspicions, needling Devon about when they would launch their attack on the Rosewoods, reminding him of their dwindling resources. It was Caleb who brought their first news of something amiss.

"I was with Amy the other night," he told Devon, voice pitched so that Emma, seated nearby, wouldn't overhear, "and she said a Rosewood wolf came into their bar. In our town."

Devon drained his glass of whiskey and dragged Caleb to his office on the pretense of refilling it. Emma's eyes followed them from the room. He locked the door behind them.

"Is she certain? How did she know it was a wolf?" Devon poured himself a refill and a second glass for Caleb.

He didn't drink much now, knowing he did not want to follow in his father's footsteps, but the news had shaken him. Swallowing a gulp of the burning liquid, he felt his nerves steady.

"She wasn't at first, just that it was a stranger, unusual enough in these parts," Caleb said, leaning back against the window. "But she watched them leave, and when they hit the dirt road, they shifted. She knows us all, obviously except Beth, and she didn't recognize them. I asked around and no one was in town that night, so I know she didn't make a mistake."

"Do you think they're looking for Beth?" Devon asked. Of course Caleb wouldn't know the answer, couldn't know, but the thought spilled out of him before he could stop it, and terror gripped his chest.

They couldn't risk a fight now, not with Beth pregnant. It would put her in danger, and she'd be distraught at the violence of it, her old friends facing off against her new pack.

Caleb shrugged, unsure. "She said they didn't ask any unusual questions. Just came in and had a drink, but they were looking around as if searching for something, but they never seemed to find it. At least, they never really talked to anyone else there. Just came, drank, and left."

The Rosewoods were getting bolder, brazenly pushing into White Winter territory. If they weren't looking for Beth, they were looking to instigate a fight. But why now? He wondered if his letter hadn't reached them. It could have been blow away by the wind, though he'd weighted it down with a rock. The tree was in a meadow where the breeze was not tempered by surrounding trees, standing alone as it did.

Or perhaps some Rosewood had found it, neither their alpha nor Adria, and had torn it to shreds rather than bring it to the intended recipients. After all, that's what Emma would do, and likely most of the rest of the White Winter pack.

"What did they look like?" Devon knew a few of the wolves, and Beth would know them all.

Caleb described the woman, and Devon felt a tug in his gut—it sounded spot on for Beth's closest friend, Adria. What did it mean? He needed to talk to Beth about it. She was resting in her room, finding herself more tired than usual lately, with the growing baby taking much of her energy.

"Thank you, Caleb. Do me a favor and keep this to yourself, will you? I don't need the pack tearing off to find this woman and starting a war, not right now. I'll figure this out." Devon squeezed Caleb's shoulder.

Caleb nodded. "Of course. I wouldn't want the pack piling in to Amy's place and tearing it apart anyway. You know how they get when they're worked up. Start destroying without thinking."

Concern tinged his words. The human woman had a hold on Caleb, whatever his situation was with Emma. There was trouble there, or would be soon. It wasn't safe for wolves to mix with humans in that way. But he was already asking a favor of Caleb, and forbidding him from seeing his lover would not aid his cause, so he dropped it for the moment.

"Take care, and keep your feelings for this woman close," he warned, as Caleb made to leave. "I thought you were back on with Emma, and if she thinks the same, she won't take well to this renewed competition. It"s obvious you care for her, for both of them. Just mind, you don't wind up in the middle of a bloody triangle."

Caleb saluted. "I'll keep them well apart. Anything else, boss?"

"That's all, thanks Caleb. Keep me updated if you hear anything else from Amy, but caution her against trying to dig into it on her own."

Alone in the office, he finished the last of his whiskey before making his way to his bedroom. Their bedroom, now. He cracked the door open without knocking in case she was asleep, but she was sitting up in bed with a book on her knees, smiling when she saw him.

"I'm not asleep, don't worry," she said, patting the bed beside her. "Come in and sit and tell me what's making that wrinkle on your forehead deeper than usual."

He rubbed his thumb over the wrinkle in question, forcing it smooth as he took the seat beside her. "Maybe it's nothing, and you can focus on resting. This one is your priority right now."

Devon lay his hand across her stomach, holding his breath in case he felt a kick. But the baby remained still, their movements felt only by Beth.

"Don't," Beth warned, frowning at him. "I'm not a hothouse flower, and I won't be treated like one. Tell me what it is, or I'll work myself up digging it out of you."

He sighed and leaned his head back against the headboard. A candle burned, wooden wick crackling on top of a dresser, perfuming the room with scents of pine and lilacs. "One of the people in town, Caleb's girl, says she saw a Rosewood in the bar."

Beth sat up, closing her book. "Who was it?"

Devon relayed the description Caleb had given him, leaving out his own suspicion of who it might be to see if Beth came to the same conclusion without his influence. Her face paled.

"That's Adria." She gazed downward at the bedspread, tracing the stitches dotting the quilt. "What was she doing on White Winter land? In a White Winter bar? She's looking for me, isn't she? Oh God, Devon, it's so dangerous. If one of the pack catches her there, they'll kill her!"

Her voice cracked with despair. Devon put his hands on her shoulders.

"I doubt she'll be back in. She's smart, your friend, right? She'll know it was risky to do once, but twice is foolish. Maybe she was looking for you, but why? Why not respond to our letters? There's been nothing."

Beth thought for a moment, worrying at her lip until it was red. "Maybe Spencer is against it. Maybe he's decided they won't respond, and now Adria can't without going against him. She might be trying to meet me without Spencer knowing."

Devon wondered if she was on to something. He tried to put himself in Spencer's shoes. Would he risk his mate, his child, on a truce with a violent and untrustworthy pack? Never. But he could imagine Beth wanting to give them a chance. After all, that's exactly what she'd done.

He blew out a breath. "I could see that, but why not just leave her own message in the spot I'd told them to? If she can sneak out to White Winter territory, she could just as easily respond to our letter."

Beth kneaded the quilt, clenching and unclenching her fingers around a handful of fabric. "That leaves evidence behind. I have to find a way to get to her, Dev, before she does something risky again."

Devon wanted to give Beth everything. It pained him to say no to her, and he didn't want her to feel like he was taking her choice away, but the risk was too great. He couldn't stand the thought of her out there, vulnerable, where some harm might befall her.

"We can't take that chance, darling," he said, taking her hand in his. She looked up at him, doe eyes round with concern. "We did what we could by reaching out to the Rosewoods. Waiting is torture, I know it is, but you have to trust Adria. She knows what she's doing. Maybe a response will come soon."

Beth's fingers were cold in his grip. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, magnifying her freckles, clinging to her jaw before dropping onto the quilt. He brushed them away and kissed her.

"There must be more I can do. Why would she chance it? She must know that she'd be spotted. That someone would tell the pack. But why?"

Devon had been wondering the same. "It could just be that she wants you to know she's trying, so you don't give up hope. You said she would know the letter was written by you, that she would know we hadn't written it after murdering you or something, so I think we just need to have faith."

It was easier said than done, he knew that. He had found it nearly impossible to hold on to hope that things would work out with his pack, with Beth, with Emma, but he'd held on with Beth's help, and now it was his turn to do the same for her. Together, they would see this through. She just had to lean on him.

Beth lay back on the quilt, sprawling across the bed. He settled in beside her and tugged her close so she could nestle her head on his shoulder. It was his favorite way to hold her, the scent of her shampoo filling his nose and the heat of her against him, as if they had settled into a cocoon of only the two of them.

"I"ll give it one more week," she said, clinging to him. "Then we'll have to do something. I don't know what yet, but something."

He tightened his grip on her, wanting her to know that he was there, and always would be. That was the trouble with loving someone. Their pain became your own, and the need to help them could overcome all reason. He would do anything for her, even if it put the pack at risk.

"One week," he agreed, hoping it didn't come to that. Silently, he begged the Rosewoods for a response to the letter, something that would come before the week was through.

She settled back down against him. "I realized something," she said, as a chorus of birds swept by the open window, "that day you told me I could go, if I needed to."

Devon's heart thudded faster. He didn't dare breathe, lest he spoil the moment.

She went on, and if she could tell his heart was near to bursting, there was no hint of it in her honey-thick voice. "I realized then that I loved you, I was just too afraid to say it, even after you did it first. But I'm not afraid anymore, Devon. I love you."

He couldn't find the words to respond, but she didn't ask him to. She climbed her way up his body and straddled him, kissing his chest, his neck, and finally his lips. Above him, hair hanging down in a curtain, she looked a goddess.

His hands did what his mouth could not, moving up her stomach to the swell of her breast. Cupping it, teasing the nipple until she threw her head back, grinding herself into his lap. He worshipped her, his goddess, with tongue and fingers and, finally, when she was wet and dripping down her thighs, with his cock.

Sated, they lay in a sweaty tangle of limbs.

"I'll have to say it more often, if that's the response I get," she laughed into his shoulder.

"Careful, darling. I'm not too old to rise to the occasion."

"I love you, my old man," she dared.

He rolled her over and showed her that he was a man of his word.

***

Devon burst into the house, letter clutched in his hand. He took the stairs two at a time, calling for Beth.

"She's in the garden, I think." Jonah poked his head out of his room, startled. "What's going on? Oh! They've written back. Have you read it yet?"

He shook his head side to side. "I wanted to wait for Beth."

He ran back down the stairs, Jonah trailing close behind. It was five days into the promised week Beth had allotted them, and every day, he'd gone to the waiting place, heart sinking when he found it empty. The sight of the white paper tucked into a hollow tree had stopped him in his tracks, disbelieving. Half expecting an attack, he'd approached with caution but the scent of the Rosewood was faint, as if they'd come early that morning.

"Beth!" He cried at the garden's edge. "Where are you?"

She called a response, sounding far away. "At the turtle pond!"

Of course. She was often there now, bringing cushions to pad the bench into a more comfortable position for her current state.

"Look, there's a baby," she said, pointing to a turtle barely larger than a quarter, resting atop a rock. "What is it? Your face is—has something happened? Is it Adria?"

Devon held the letter aloft. "They've written us back."

Beth gasped and reached for the letter. He gave it to her, standing over her shoulder while she ripped it open.

"What does it say?" Jonah asked, bouncing on his toes.

"They'll meet with us," Beth responded, breathless. "They said they'll meet with us!"

Jonah pumped his fist and let out a whoop that sent the birds in the surrounding trees into flight. The turtles slipped off the rock and into the water, vanishing beneath the dark surface.

"When? How soon?" Jonah's excitement was catching, filling Devon with a matching energy even though there was still so much that could go wrong.

"Next week," Devon said, taking the letter from Beth when she handed it over. "We should tell the rest of the pack our plan, now that it's in motion."

Jonah's eyebrows disappeared into his shaggy hair. "You don"t think they'll crash the meet-up, do you? I could see Emma taking it as an opportunity to, you know, pick a Rosewoods off."

Beth spoke up. "We have to start trusting each other, Jo. It's the only way forward."

Devon silently agreed with Jonah, there was a great risk in letting the pack know their plans. After all, they'd have the leadership of the Rosewood pack right there, vulnerable. Even his own instinct told him it was too sweet an opportunity to resist. He had to push past that.

"Beth"s right," Devon said, folding the letter and sticking it in his pocket. "We"ll tell them the truth. But I think we should keep the details of exactly when and where to ourselves. Trust can only go so far until it's earned."

"I'll make some lunch. They'll take the news better on a full stomach," Jonah said, trotting away.

He, at least, would appreciate the new turn the pack was taking. Jonah had never had the stomach for bloodshed.

Beth and Devon made their way inside, strolling through the garden. Now that they had the Rosewood response, there was urgency, no nagging anxiety. All they could do now was wait for the day to come.

She looped her arm through his. "I'm coming to the meeting."

Devon slowed to her pace. She moved more carefully these days, her growing stomach demanding a leisurely movement. Even encumbered by it, Beth was graceful.

"I figured you'd want to." Devon didn't love the idea, but he knew better than to voice that sentiment. It made sense for Beth to be there. She had to be there, for the Rosewoods to trust the deal, but he hated the potential risk. "And I know you need to be there. But if I get even the faintest hint that the Rosewoods are up to something, I'll be pulling you out of there, and I won't give a damn who gets hurt in the process."

She squeezed his arm. "I know, dear."

Devon huffed. "I'm only looking out for you. You and our baby."

They reached the stairs and she climbed the first step, turning around so they were eye-to-eye. "Once you've been in a cage, you become wary of restrictions couched as concern."

The reminder of how he'd gotten her, his beautiful mate, was a bitter string inside of him. She plucked it then, and sent a wave of guilt through his core.

"You'd rather I let them take you back?" He couldn't keep the bitterness from his tone, even if it was directed more at himself than at her. She had every right to hold him responsible for his earlier actions.

She planted a kiss on his forehead and made her way up the stairs. "No, I'd rather you trust me."

He followed her, dreading the moment to come, when he'd have to face the pack and tell them there would be no battle, no fight for their land, just a negotiation. While hoping for the best, he had to prepare himself for the possibility that it would be the final straw for the White Winters. They might see it as weakness.

It was better to get it over with before he could dwell on it and lose his nerve, but there on the steps his father's words came back to haunt him, in a memory so strong it subsumed the world around him, drew him backward in time.

They'd been fighting, the smell of wine on his father's breath, Emma and their mother out of the house.

"You're not a leader, Devon, you don't have it in you. It takes spine, and you wouldn't know what that is. Spine, Devon. A backbone," his father had sneered, pressing his finger hard into Devon's sternum. "There's not a chance in hell I'm leaving my business to you. It'd fall apart in a month. You'd run it into the ground."

Devon had bit his lip until it'd bled, filling his mouth with the hot taste of iron. But it hadn't been enough to distract him, to keep him from shifting. He was a new wolf then, out of control, barely human.

For the first time in his life, he'd seen fear in his father's eyes. He'd relished it. For once, he'd felt in charge, powerful, leaving the cowering boy behind.

"What the—" his father had broken off into a strangled scream, wine glass shattering on the floor. He'd tried to run, but Devon, enraged, unthinking, had lunged.

His fangs sank into his father's thigh, knocking him to the ground. The taste of blood had driven Devon deeper into his haze. He shook the leg, back and forth until bone snapped. It was his father's cry that broke him out of the trance. Blood dripped from his muzzle as he backed away, leaving ruby droplets on the carpet, a pool of them spreading from his father's leg.

Devon watched as his father wailed, clutching his leg to stem the bleeding. Then he turned, and ran. He couldn't face what he'd done, couldn't shift back, become human where the emotions would be even stronger, so he'd gone into the woods and stayed for days.

When he'd returned home, ragged and weary, his parents had left. Only Emma remained in the house. She had ripped up the carpet from the hall and scrubbed the stain from the wood and when she saw him, she hadn't flinched.

"They're gone, Dev. Dad wants nothing to do with you, but you scared him enough that he swears he won't tell anyone. This house is ours and he's given us more money than we could ever spend, so long as we never try to contact him," she said, leading him into the kitchen. She poured him a strong cup of coffee and made him sit. "I think Mom will soften in time. She's scared, just doing what Dad wants her to to keep the peace. But I bet she'll reach out in time."

He'd drank the coffee, feeling oddly numb, as if the world was passing him by. Emma sat beside him and took his hand. It was the first kindness she'd shown him in years. Why wasn't she frightened of him? She'd been the one to call the ambulance, the one to clean the blood, yet she looked Devon dead in the eye that night.

"I want you to turn me," she'd said.

And the White Winter pack was born.

It was Beth taking his hand now, not Emma. He shook off the memory, clinging to him like cobwebs.

"Are you alright, love?" She peered at him with concern, both of her hands wrapped tight around his. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I might as well have," he said, gruffly, shaking his head to clear it.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He did. He wanted more than anything to spill his past out for Beth, to tell her every dark secret and leave nothing to haunt them in the depths of his soul. But it wasn't the time.

"Later. We should tell the pack now." He forced the waver from his voice and smiled at Beth. It was hard not to smile, looking at her face. She was golden to him, pulling him from the miasma he'd been drowning in before she'd arrived, drowning without even knowing it.

"Together," she said, taking the lead.

"Together," he agreed.

They met the pack in the kitchen, where they'd polished off Jonah's platter of sandwiches.

"Gather up everyone, I've got news," Devon announced, pulling the letter from his pocket.

Emma's head snapped around. She growled at the pack, "Shut up, guys, I want to hear this."

Beth was by his side. He could do this.

"We're meeting with the Rosewoods to discuss a deal. A way to split the land that we can both agree on."

"Seriously?" Emma laughed. "A negotiation? Why should we share the land when we could just take it?"

The others chimed in, shouting their agreement with Emma.

"He's gone soft!" One of the wolves jeered.

"Maybe you're getting too old to be alpha," another agreed.

Caleb was silent, his jaw working as he mulled it over. At least he wasn't adding to the insults. Devon would take that as a win. He looked to Beth. She gave him a small nod of encouragement to go on.

"Enough, all of you. There will be no more bloodshed. We'll have our land, they'll have theirs. We won't let them bully us into a bad deal—we'll make sure we have the resources we need to build up the town. We'll come out of this stronger," Devon said, meeting the eye of everyone in the room.

"And if they force a bad deal? Do we just take it lying down now that you're a pacifist?" Emma again.

Devon clenched his fists at his sides. Before Beth, he would've silenced the room by thrashing every one in it until they had no choice but to respect him. This called for a different tact.

"If they don't play fair, we'll discuss repercussions. I'm not against fighting if we need to, I just want to avoid it if possible." Devon held up his hand to stop the uproar. "If you have a problem, you can take it up with me one at a time. I'll remind each and every one of you why I'm alpha."

He darted a sheepish glance at Beth. Surely she couldn't blame him for a few reminders of his strength. They weren't threats, really.

It hinged on Emma. His sister was watching him, sitting on the table with her elbows on her knees. Did she remember the coffee they'd shared that night? The kindness she'd shown him?

"Fine. I'm into it. So long as we get the good half of the land," she added, shrugging as if it was nothing to her.

The rest of the pack fell in line, one by one. Devon didn't even have to lift a finger. As they filed, he collapsed into a chair. It'd left him more shaken than any fight ever had.

"You did it," Beth said, kneading knots from his shoulders. "I know you could."

He drew her down onto his lap, needing to hold her. "I couldn't have done it without you."