He frowns. “I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you. Do you want to talk about it?”
Oh gods, he’s therapizing me. Is that even a word?
I straighten my shoulders. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”
He stalks off the porch and places a finger under my chin, tilting my face up, up, up into his gaze. “It’s okay not to be, Lou. You don’t have to be strong all the time, even though I know you pride yourself on that. Talk to me, Sweetheart.”
I fight not to pull my chin from his finger as the weight of my life hits me like a truck. I’m surrounded by grief’s claws, scratching and tearing at me to pull me into an abyss of sadness. But I fucking refuse to go.
Something flashes through Connall’s gaze. “With wolves, when someone’s upset, we like to hug and purr, maybe even rub our cheeks together. Shall we try that?”
I nod because I can’t think of a single word to say.
A big, warm hand slides up my back to grip my neck, his eyes never moving from mine. Do I imagine the color flaring in intensity? He uses that grip to pull my body flush with his. He’s so tall, my head comes to his chest, but that’s perfect, because he wraps his other arm around me.
When a deep rumble starts up from within his body, I sink into the touch, pressing my forehead between his pecs. He’s like hugging a giant vibrating teddy bear with pecs like a bodybuilder. The purr starts soft but picks up in intensity, coming and going in rolling waves. I swear I feel them all the way to my bones and back.
I don’t know how long we stand like that, but Connall’s silent the whole time. When he pulls away, dropping his grip on my neck, I nearly cry over the loss.
“Aww, don’t mind me, alpha,” Dirk says from somewhere to my right. “I was havin’ a fine time watchin’. Louanna, my sweet, are you alright?”
I worry that Connall will pull away, but instead his purr deepens, going a little rougher.
Glancing over at Dirk, I force a smile. “I’m…okay. I could stand like that all night, I think. Purr’s nice.”
Something flashes in Connall’s gaze as I look up at him. “Of course, Lou. It’s not a cure for grief, but in the moment, it helps.”
Dirk comes closer, stroking a stray hair over my shoulder. “I’m sure Connall’d be happy to purr for you any time, my love. Or anything else you want that might make yeh feel better.”
Connall reaches for my shoulder and rubs the backs of his thick fingers along my skin. “I need to go back inside,” he says. “Dirk, you’ll make sure she gets home safe, right? Unless you both want to come back in?”
“O’course, alpha,” Dirk says, “But I wanted to?—”
Movement catches my eye in the forest to the left of Slade’s cottage. I cock my head to the side as ferns rustle and shift on an invisible breeze.
Dirk says something else, but I don’t hear a fucking thing, because a figure steps out of the darkness to stand under a streetlight. The light illuminates his sharp features from above, casting eerie, ominous shadows over him.
I suck in a gasping breath.
Leighton.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CONNALL
Lou hisses in a breath, amber eyes flashing wide as her focus jerks from Dirk and me to something behind me. I spin to where she’s looking and see…nothing. An empty sidewalk and tons of trees.
When I turn back to her, she’s white as a sheet, her muscles quivering. “Leighton,” she whispers. “Oh my gods.”
Ice fills my veins as I turn again. Dirk comes to Lou’s side as he scans the forest. “What?”
“He’s right there,” she hisses, pointing toward the sidewalk, “standing under the streetlight! What do you mean you can’t see him?”
Pain and worry stab me in equal measure. Staring hard, I try to see what she’s talking about, but there’s no one. The sidewalk is empty.
I take a step forward, but Lou clamps a hand around my wrist. “Don’t, Connall. Something’s not right.”
I’m a believer in following one’s instincts—all wolves are. It’s drilled into us from puphood. My wolf presses to the front of our consciousness, scanning for anything amiss. The idea that my longtime but dead friend is standing in front of me, and I can’t see him? I don’t know how to handle that.
