Linnea. My wolf howled at the thought of her name. After all these years, to run into her twice. And here of all places. I’d participated in the Pink Race for a couple of years now and this was the first time I’d seen her. Did she live nearby? Hell, I didn’t even know where she would have moved from. She’d left me and our home pack years ago, and no one had known where she’d gone. The agony of my mom’s death had been hard enough. Then the woman I loved had disappeared, leaving me to my grief and pushing me over the edge into I-don’t-give-a-fuck land.

Even so, over the years she’d drop into my thoughts like a bad dream, and I worried for her. Was she hurt? Scared? Or had she settled down and found some sort of happiness? Though which of those circumstances I’d been more frightened of was still a mystery.

She’d looked good, though. Better than good. My chest constricted remembering the way the sun had glistened across her bronze cheeks at the apple orchard. Her blush as our gazes locked had stirred more than just my wolf.

And her scent. It was still the same. The light floral fragrance had once led me on a search for the exact flowers that could be so potent as to bring a young man to his knees. Hours at different florist shops had eventually lead me to the perfect combination of pink peonies and cherry blossoms.

The number of humans and shifters in the park were so many that it was hard to sort through the different scents now. But my wolf wasn’t letting go so easily. I tracked Linnea’s scent as she walked away from the registration booth until she ventured too far and I lost her.

An air horn went off, reminding me to hurry my ass up. Behind the curtain designated for the male shifters, I placed my clothes, wallet, and keys into an empty locker. Then I slipped the collar Linnea had given me around my neck. With a deep breath, I called up the magic that allowed me to change. As my bones cracked and reformed, I held back a whine and focused on getting through the transformation as quickly as possible. Within minutes, I shook off the last of the change and headed toward the starting line.

My Alpha, still in human form, stood waiting for me, his posture rigid. “That was the fastest I’ve seen you change,” he said.

I glanced around the room full of shifters in the middle of their transformations. Most of them had started before I had. Did that mean what I thought it meant?

“Yep. I had a feeling about you, and I was right.” Locke grinned at me. “Now’s not the time to talk about it, but in a few years, you’ll be wanting your own pack.”

I shook my head, more in astonishment than denial. Locke placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and our gazes connected. His flared silver and held until I dropped my eyes. The fact that I looked away meant my wolf wasn’t ready to challenge another Alpha yet. The realization eased the tightness in my shoulders.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he said in a soothing voice. “No hurry just yet. Oh, and about Ms. Carver. No tiptoeing around it, that woman is your mate. Listen to your wolf and fix whatever’s broken.” He pointed a finger at me. “Even if you think it’s her fault.”

Locke rushed past me into the changing area, leaving me stunned in more ways than one.

Locke was a good guy. A great Alpha. The thought of one day leaving his pack made my stomach twist with worry. But a little fissure of excitement also wormed its way in. My wolf thought having our own pack was an excellent idea. He also wholeheartedly agreed with him about Linnea. The truth was, I already knew she was my mate. But it hadn’t stopped her from leaving me once. Why would I risk that again?

Leaving Locke to change, I trotted to the starting line and found my place next to a cheetah. She turned to me and grinned, confidence shining in her yellow eyes. I gave a little growl and let my tongue hang out playfully. She accepted my challenge with a snarl.

Another air horn went off, and the race began. I took off at a steady sprint. Though winning was on most of these shifters minds, it wasn’t the point of the race. A point I’d had to shove at my wolf since the starting line. From the grunts and growls around me it sounded like some of their competitive streaks were coming out. Par for the course. Most of the time it was the Alphas who won at these things. They couldn’t help themselves.

Though, no doubt fun, the race meant more to me than a contest. I ran for my mom. A woman who had never known a stranger. Who took care of everyone she’d met. And when she became sick, they’d all taken care of her right back.

Everything I’d done since she’d died had been for or because of her. Already committed to going into medicine, I’d switched my focus to oncology. That was why I was in Atlanta, not only to get away from the pitying stares of my former pack, though those had been enough. Emory University School of Medicine had been in my top three schools. But the selling point had been Locke. He’d been willing to take a chance on a strange new wolf.

Had Linnea’s absence been the last straw to send me here? I wanted the answer to be no. But I’d have been lying to myself.

Because of the number of shifters surrounding me, I hadn’t scented him at first, and I was unprepared for the sudden shove against my flank. I stumbled sideways, knocking into a wolf on my left. The boar who purposely ran into me sneered and tried again, but I jumped to the side, avoiding the move as I snapped my jaws at him. With a snort, the hog gave me a narrowed eyed look before picking up speed. Recognizing the scent of the man who had been pawing at Linnea, I growled. This idiot was going down.

When my wolf howled, accepting his challenge, a dozen or more howls followed in support. Head down, I ran as hard as I could, catching up to the wild boar in no time. As I sped past him, I looked back with a wolfy grin. His glaring black eyes made me yip with excitement. I was suddenly having a lot more fun than I’d thought I would.

I didn’t win the race, but I had placed second behind the Cheetah. Locke would have beaten me, but he’d slowed his pace to stay with Sara.

Once the award ceremony had ended, I met Linnea at a local café. But after the perfunctory hellos, neither of us had spoken yet. She stared down at her coffee, then out the window, before looking back at her mug.

She was so beautiful I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. The graceful slope of her jawline met a rounded chin, where a familiar freckle rested. A memory of me lavishing that freckle with kisses had me shifting in my chair. She had a lot of freckles and I’d tasted every single one of them. But that had been years ago. Were there any new ones?

I bit the inside of my cheek, reminding myself that going down that road led to a whole lot of pain.

When she sighed for the fourth time, I decided to break the silence. “What do you call sad coffee?”

She turned to me, her puckered brows smoothing out as she grinned. “I don’t know. What do you call sad coffee?”

“Despresso.” She groaned, though her eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth.

“How about this one,” I said. “How are coffee beans like kids? They’re always getting grounded.” This time she laughed and when she snorted, it sent us both rolling.

“Those are so bad,” she said, wiping her eyes with a napkin.

“What’s it called when you steal someone’s coffee?” I asked.

“Oh god,” she laughed. “I don’t know.”

“A mugging.” I swiped her cup and took a sip before giving it back to her. “Ugh! I don’t know how you can drink that crap.”

“Hey!” she scolded, though her smile was bright. “Lots of people like cappuccinos. You’re the weirdo who likes boring coffee.”

I took a sip of said boring coffee and hummed. “Mmm, yep. I’ll definitely stick to my boring dark roast.”

Her chuckle sent a sharp pain through my chest. I sucked in a lungful of air and frowned at the table. I could feel Linnea watching me, her smile dissolving. When she began to fidget, I decided to bring the conversation around to what we were there for. I needed answers.

“Why were you there today? At the race?” I asked.

“Working,” she said immediately.

Hiding a smile, I twisted my lips to the side. “I gathered that much. But why?”

A warm blush spread across her cheeks. “I work for Pink Strength. I’m the assistant to the volunteer program coordinator. Working the race is part of the job.”

My heart swelled, but I couldn’t help but be a little shocked. “I’m surprised.”

“Why’s that?” she asked, taking a sip of her cappuccino.

“Hadn’t you planned on an art history major? It’s all you used to talk about.”

Linnea looked down to hide her smile. “You remembered?”

I shrugged but offered nothing else.

“I took some art history classes, but decided against the major,” she replied. “What about you? I heard you’re about to go into med school?”

Her lashes lowered in what I remembered as her guilty look. My gaze narrowed on the way she bit her lip as I asked, “And how did you hear that?”

“I have my ways.” The grin she hid behind her mug sent another painful twinge to my chest.

I tore my eyes away from her full lips and reminded myself why we were here. We weren’t on a date. And our real date the week before had been a fluke. Though, I was suspicious of the whole thing. The moment I decide to try for something more than a hook-up, my preferred online dating site decided to match me with my ex? Yeah, something seemed fishy. Or either fate was having a great laugh at both of our expenses.

The truth was, no matter how much I, or my wolf, wanted Linnea, she didn’t want me. She’d made that clear years before. Would she have contacted me if it hadn’t been for our blind date? Doubtful. But unless my nose had been steering me wrong, she’d been aroused from the moment our eyes had met. So where did that leave us? I knew where it left me. I needed more answers.

“Why did you leave?” I blurted out. “Did my mom mean anything to you? Did I?” That was what had confused me the most about Linnea’s disappearance. She’d loved my mom. Or so I’d thought.

“Of course she did. I—” Linnea took a deep breath, her voice firm the next time she spoke. “She meant so much to me. Both of you did—do. More than you can know.”

“Then why?” I hated that my voice cracked, but we were talking about the worst moments of my life.

“My adoptive parents were good people,” she said. “Jer and Nellie gave me food to eat, put a roof over my head and clothes on my back… Everything I needed. But you know how it was. They were older than your parents. I had a hard time talking to them.

“Your mom, though? She was…” Her sigh was full of sorrow.

“Do you remember in the sixth grade when those girls pushed me into the locker?” she asked out of the blue.

I rocked back in my chair at the sudden change of subject, but nodded. “Which time?”

She chuckled lightly. “Yeah, those girls were relentless. But I meant the first time. I wasn’t expecting them. They pushed me from behind, and my forehead hit the door of my locker.”

“I remember,” I said softly. “Your shirt was covered in blood.” I’d wanted to punch their faces in. If they’d been boys, I would have.

“After those girls pushed me against the lockers, I was so embarrassed. I skipped third period to sit in the bathroom and cry.”

“I didn’t know that,” I whispered.

She shrugged. “Anyway, someone must have told your mom I was missing. She found me curled up in one of the stalls. She sat down next to me and held me while I cried. Then when the tears dried up, she told me that people were going to be mean. And when I was her age I would understand that everyone hated middle school for mostly the same reasons. She also told me that violence was not the answer, but that I should protect myself if things escalated. That the next time they came after me, I was to look them in the eye, with my chin up, and make them believe that I found them lacking. Then she pulled me up off the floor, kissed my cheek and said, ‘Respect yourself and they’ll respect you. And if they don’t, the hell with ’em’”

“She always had great advice,” I said, my voice cracking with emotion.

“She was the best.” She agreed with a nod, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “She was everything I thought a mom should be. She listened when I complained about school. Home. Boys… You.” She smirked. “When I was around your family, I never felt like just one of the pack or your friend. Or just your girlfriend. I felt like I was part of your family.”

“You were,” I said, reaching for her hand where it rested on the table between us. “Mom thought of you as her own daughter.”

She stared down our hands as I entwined our fingers. Her touch sent a spark up my arm and I gritted my teeth to keep from humming with pleasure. My wolf didn’t hold back, though. He was practically giddy, the bastard.

“When she got sick, I didn’t believe it. I mean, I believed it,” she corrected herself, “but I refused to think it was serious. I knew without a doubt that she would recover. I didn’t worry or stress out about it. I was so sure she would beat it. And when they put her in the hospital, I thought it was a hiccup. Nothing to worry about.”

Wanting to comfort her, I rubbed her knuckles with my thumb. When she closed her eyes and shivered, my heart leapt. But when her lids lifted, she refused to look at me.

“I’ve come to realize I was in denial. Because the thought of your mom not being there in any capacity was too horrific to even contemplate. Your mom was Superwoman. If she couldn’t beat cancer’s ass, who could?

“It wasn’t until the funeral that it hit me. I kept thinking, this isn’t real. Then I looked at you. You were stricken. Tears dripped from your chin. I’d never seen you cry before. And your dad. I…”

Blinking furiously, she bit her bottom lip, obviously trying to hold back tears. My grip on her hand tightened but she pulled it away, leaving me cold.

“I didn’t realize until that moment how much I loved her,” she told me. “She was my mom in every way that counted, and I was too weak to handle the loss. Too scared of what else I might lose if I stayed.”

When her gaze met mine, I felt like I was looking into a mirror. The amount of sorrow and longing in her eyes made my chest ache. I wanted to hold her. I needed to hold her. But before I could stand and come around the table and gather her up into my arms, she looked away with a sigh.

“I don’t remember much of the first six months after the funeral. And by the time the numbness wore off, it was too late.”

“I was there. Waiting for you, Lin,” I said, my damn voice cracking again. “I was so scared and worried.”

The grief marring her features cleared a little, giving her eyes life as she leaned forward. “Is it too late to come home?” she asked, hope lifting her voice.

I frowned at the question. “Of course it’s not too late to go home, Lin. I’m sure everyone would be thrilled to see you.”

I’d thought the reassurance would please her. But as soon as the words had left my lips, the tiny sparkle in her eyes died, causing my brows to furrow.

“A trip home sounds good. I haven’t seen my parents in a while,” she said, her voice soft.

After a moment, she stood, giving me a sad smile that felt like a punch to the gut. “It was good to see you, Brandon. Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

I sat back in my chair, stunned as she walked out of the café. What had I said wrong?

Then the memory hit me like a battering ram.

Our date would end in approximately three minutes. But neither of us were willing to give up a precious second. Linnea laid her head on my chest with a sigh, and I tightened my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

We sat in my pickup truck, watching the clock as time got closer and closer to curfew. Though we both were over the age of eighteen, Linnea’s foster parents were strict. According to them, if she lived under their roof, she had to be home at a decent hour. That would change soon. I had a plan.

“I love you, Lin.” I placed a kiss on top of her head as she snuggled closer. “One day, we’ll have a house of our own, or maybe an apartment in the city, and we won’t have to worry about a curfew. Or parents sleeping right down the hall,” I said just to hear her giggle.

Her laughter turned into a sigh as she said, “I love you too, Brandon. I don’t care where we go or what kind of house we have. You’ll always be my home.”

“And you’ll always be mine,” I responded.

“You’ll always be my home.” She’d said it to me so many times. How could I have forgotten? She hadn’t been asking if she could go home to visit our former pack. She wanted a second chance with me. And I’d blown it.

By the time I realized what I’d done, it was too late. Linnea was long gone. But only for now. I’d let her go too easily the last time she’d disappeared. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.