16. Holden

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

HOLDEN

I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this happy—the kind that made everything seem better… like it didn't suck.

I was finally back home. And Mylo... he was here too. That thought alone had me smiling like an idiot the whole way back, with Indigo's teasing voice echoing in my head: "You look like you swallowed a love potion."

Maybe I had. Who could say?

Maybe I had. Who could say? Or, I finally got a clue, according to West.

I managed to rope her and Sarah into helping me set up a romantic dinner for us in my house. Everything had to be perfect, from the lighting to the food. Soft candles cast a warm glow in the room, illuminating the simple, rustic table set with dishes of finger foods.

The moment he walked in, I swear every doubt melted away. He looked around the room, a mix of surprise and hesitation playing on his face, before he met my eyes with a soft smile.

"All this for me?" he asked, his voice holding a note of disbelief, like he couldn't quite imagine he deserved any of it.

I stepped closer, taking his hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Of course it's for you," I said, leading him to the table. "I missed you."

His cheeks flushed just a little, and he nodded, his fingers brushing over the back of mine as we sat down to eat. I had to remind myself not to rush—to savor this, savor him.

My mate.

Those words felt right.

We ate slowly, sharing bites, and as the minutes slipped by, I asked him more about himself—things I'd always wanted to know but hadn't had the chance to ask yet. He hesitated at first, and I could see it—that familiar guarded look, the kind of defensiveness that only comes from years of being hurt, of not knowing where you belong.

"I grew up in the foster system," he finally said, his voice soft. "Bounced around a lot. Never really had a home, you know?" He glanced up at me, as if gauging my reaction, like maybe that would change how I saw him.

It didn't. If anything, it made me want to pull him closer, wrap him in every bit of warmth I had to give, and promise him that he had one now.

"That sounds rough," I said quietly, my gaze locked on his. "But it doesn't make you any less perfect, you know. You're here now, and that's all that matters."

He gave me a shy smile, but there was a sadness there too. "I don't even know my family or where I came from. I'm just... some guy without a history."

"No," I said, reaching across the table to cup his cheek. "You're not just anything, Mylo. My family already loves you. You have them now. You have me."

He closed his eyes for a second, leaning into my touch, and when he opened them, there was a shimmer of something there—something hopeful.

I knew I had to work on making him feel safe and convincing him he would never have to leave again, but I swore to myself it would happen. I wouldn't stop until I erased every ounce of doubt he'd ever had about not belonging.

"How did you meet Noah?" I asked, wanting to know everything that had shaped this amazing man—the one the goddess, the fates, had somehow deemed me worthy of having.

Mylo smiled then, a real, genuine smile that lit up his eyes. "I met Noah in Charlotte. He was volunteering as a big brother, and even though I was technically too old for the program, he kind of just... picked me. Said I needed someone looking out for me, and he wasn't wrong."

"Sounds like Noah," I said, smiling too. "He's got a good heart."

"He does," Mylo agreed, his voice softening. "He's the closest thing I've had to family. Until now, I guess."

My heart clenched at that, and I reached for his hand again. "You're not alone anymore, Mylo. Not ever."

He held my gaze, like he was looking to see if I meant it, and I didn't look away until he finally nodded. I knew saying the words once wouldn't suddenly erase years of trauma, but I planned to spend the rest of my days proving it to him.

The rest of dinner passed in comfortable conversation, filled with laughter, shared stories, and those little touches that seemed to mean more than words. By the time we made our way to the hot tub, the world felt quieter, as if it was just the two of us, and nothing else mattered.

I settled in first, the warm water easing some of the tension I hadn't realized I'd been carrying. Mylo followed, sinking into the bubbles with a sigh. He turned down the champagne I'd offered, shaking his head with a sheepish grin.

"I think I've learned my lesson after the bourbon tasting," he said, his cheeks flushed, and I chuckled.

"Fair enough," I said, setting the glass aside. If he wasn't drinking, neither was I. Not tonight. Not when I needed to be clear-headed for what I had to say.

Or what I wanted to say. Then again, liquid courage might've been the way to go.

"Although I had no problem with what you had to say while you were drunk." I couldn't help teasing him.

Mylo snorted. "Yay, bourbon then, I guess."

I chuckled, but inside, I was all twisted up. I knew I was stalling. All the way back from Moonridge, I'd practiced what I needed to say. Over and over again, I'd repeated the words in my head like a mantra: "I'm a shifter. I'm a bear shifter." It seemed easy enough when I wasn't staring into those blue eyes. But now, sitting here, with Mylo so close, his leg brushing against mine under the water, it felt impossible.

The words seemed to be stuck in my throat.

You have to do it, though. He deserves to know the truth.

My bear was right. I couldn't keep lying to him, not if we had any chance of being... everything.

"There's, um, there's something I need to tell you," I started, my voice rougher than I'd intended.

He turned to me, his eyes wide, curious. "Okay... What is it?"

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. The words were right there, but every time I tried to push them out, all I could see was James—the terror in his eyes, the way he'd run, the way he'd dropped out of sight before I could get to him.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the memory, but it was like it was burned into my mind. I couldn't do it. Not yet. Not when the fear of losing him was so raw, so real.

"It's... complicated," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm not sure how you'll feel about it."

His brow furrowed, concern filling his eyes. "Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise."

I wanted to believe that. Great goddess, I wanted to believe it so badly. But the risk... it was too much. And unless I was ready to leave Rockmount—ready to give up everything: my family, my home—I couldn't keep pretending forever. It wasn't like I could stop everyone from shifting around him, not in a town full of shifters.

"It can wait," I said, my voice cracking just a little.

He studied me for a long moment, then nodded, his expression softening. "Okay. I trust you, Holden."

Those words did something to me—made something in my chest tighten, ache. He trusted me. Despite all the hot and cold, despite every time I'd pushed him away, he still trusted me. Even with everything he'd been through in his life. I didn't deserve that.

But I'd do everything I could to earn it.

I leaned in, brushing my lips against his, soft at first, testing, waiting for him to pull away. He didn't. Instead, he kissed me back, his hands finding my shoulders, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

The kiss deepened, and I could feel the emotion behind it—the want, the need, the hope. It was raw and real, and it made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could have this. Have him.

I pulled him onto my lap, the water sloshing around us as he straddled me, his fingers tangling in my hair. He looked at me, his eyes searching mine, and for the first time, I saw it—the same fear, the same hope, the same longing. We were both scared, both unsure. But we had each other.

"You're perfect," I whispered against his lips, my hands running up his back, feeling the shiver that ran through him. "You're everything."

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against mine. "Holden..."

I didn't let him finish. I kissed him again, deeper, my hands roaming, wanting to feel every inch of him, to memorize the way his skin felt beneath my fingers. He was warm, so warm, and the way he moved against me—it was like he was made for me, like every part of him fit perfectly with me.

The world around us faded away until it was just him—just Mylo. His breath, his touch, his soft gasps as I kissed along his neck, his collarbone. I wanted to make him feel cherished, loved. Because that's what he was. He was my mate—my everything.

We moved together, the water rippling around us, the steam rising, mingling with our breathless kisses. His fingers dug into my shoulders, his head falling back as he let out a soft moan, and it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.

"Holden," he whispered, his voice breaking, and I knew—I knew I'd do anything to protect him, to keep him safe, to make sure he never felt alone again.

I carried him to the bedroom, our lips never breaking, our hands never stopping. I laid him down gently, hovering over him, my eyes meeting his. He looked up at me, his gaze filled with so much trust, so much love, and it broke me.

I didn't deserve him. But I'd spend every day trying to.

I kissed him again, slow and deep, my hands caressing his sides, his hips. He arched into me, his breath hitching, and I knew—this was it. This was everything.

And as we moved together, as our breaths mingled, as our bodies fit perfectly, I realized—maybe I could have this. Maybe I could have him, and not tell him everything just yet. Maybe I could keep this secret a little longer, keep him safe a little longer.

But deep down, I knew—if I wanted this to last, if I wanted him to be mine forever, I'd have to tell him. I'd have to trust him the way he trusted me.

But tonight, I let myself just have him. I let myself love him, cherish him. And maybe, for now, that was enough.