We were flirting a dangerous line.

Falling into bed with Soren was so damn easy. Kissing him, touching him, enjoying him—it was all so easy. It was like the Omega had turned a hairdryer on high and aimed it right at me; my icy heart was thawing for the bright-eyed wolf carrying my child.

I just wasn’t sure how to handle that information.

I wanted Soren to be happy. I wanted to chase off the darkness lingering in his dreams, wanted to be the one he woke up next to, knowing that I held him throughout the night. I wanted to keep him safe, but I wasn’t sure I could give myself to him. Not in the way that he needed. Not in the way a man like him deserved.

In all reality, I was damaged goods. Soren needed someone capable of protecting him from his past. What chance did a lone stag have against mindsick wolves who wanted Soren for their own nefarious purposes? Soren needed a strong Alpha, preferably one with sharp teeth and a will of steel, and that wasn’t me. It would never be me, and it was frustrating.

These weeks spent together, keeping each other company? It felt like we were playing a game, and I’d known all along that it was a losing hand. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I wasn’t sure I could do this. Yet, selfishly, I held on to that thread, praying it didn’t unravel quite yet. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Wasn’t ready to lose him, because I knew when I did, it would be forever.

It made me feel sick at the pit of my gut.

I shoved the dark thoughts away. I stuffed them into the crevices of my mind where they would haunt me later, when my bed was empty and Soren was safely back with his pack. I was a toy soldier and I had to keep marching on. I plastered on a smile and did just that.

“Let’s have a picnic.”

Right on cue, his golden eyes lit up. “Really?”

I shrugged. It was no big deal. “Sure. It’s really nice out today and the park has picnic tables. I have stuff for sandwiches and we could stop by the gas station and grab a bag of chips or something. It’ll be fun.”

“I know just the place, too!” At my curious glance, he blushed. “I take my nephew there a lot. There’s a perfectly shady spot near the playground. We could lay down a blanket in the grass. Let’s do it. Want some help making the sandwiches?” He smiled and that was the final nail in the coffin. I leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet.

“Definitely.” I wasn’t thinking about sandwiches in that moment, though. I wanted to press him back into the plush grass and kiss him beneath the bright blue sky. I wanted to do more than kiss him, but I didn’t think that a public park would be the best place for that sort of indecent behavior.

I grinned at the thought.

As if he could read my mind, Soren elbowed me hard in the gut. “C’mon, perv. Let’s make the grub.”

With an old wicker basket filled with ham and turkey sandwiches stuffed in little baggies, a big bag of BBQ potato chips, and two bottles of fizzy grape juice in fancy champagne bottles, I drove across town to the park. It seemed we weren’t the only ones with the idea to come here for lunch, because as we walked down the path with the basket swinging between us, I saw several other families stationed at picnic tables.

A little boy of six or seven ran past squealing happily, clambering up the metal ladder of the playground equipment. He jumped up and down on a jointed bridge while the plastic planks squeaked beneath his shoes, and his mother called out a warning to be safe.

Would Soren bring his son or daughter here, to play on the jungle gym and to swing on the old tire swing? I could picture it—a sandy-haired little fawn running around the playground, kicking up wood chips and throwing a ball, and Soren smiling from his vantage point on a picnic table, ever watchful.

Would I be in that equation? Did I want to be?

God, I’d wanted it so badly with Wesley. I was ecstatic when he told me he was pregnant, even though he was more than little nervous. When baby Anya was born, six pounds-three ounces of perfection, I melted just a little. She was such a happy baby, blowing spit bubbles and making faces. Never fussy, never refused a bottle or a nap. She was perfect and in that moment, my life was amazing.

Wes had wanted a second child, so that the kids would grow up together and be friends, like he and his sister had been. I was more than happy to try. Now, looking back, I wished I hadn’t. I wished I would’ve insisted that one baby was enough. That we could spoil Anya rotten and be able to afford for her to go off to college when she grew up.

“Hunter?” Soren looked worried. Probably because I’d come to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk. Damn it. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I lied, and I stuffed those memories away, too. There would be time for them later.

The spot Soren picked was nice. We lay out an old crocheted blanket that had been my grandmother’s and set ourselves up with paper plates filled with food. Soren crunched a chip, hummed happily, and then took a sip of his grape juice. “This is nice,” he said. I smiled and nodded, my mouth full of ham sandwich. Soren laughed. “Dork.”

When we’d finished, Soren jumped to his feet and pointed towards the abandoned swings. “Come with me?” Together we made our way towards the old metal swing set, with its sun-bleached plastic seats suspended by rusty chains. There was a nicer, newer set on the other side of the playground, but this one was filled with nostalgia.

I sat down on a swing and the metal base groaned softly. Soren took the seat beside me and began to pump his legs, holding onto the chains with a big grin on his face. “We didn’t have stuff like this when I was a kid,” he said. “So after Dresden was born, we came here a lot. Hux wanted to give his kid the best childhood he could…and I want the same for ours.”

I smiled despite the gnawing ache in my chest. This isn’t yours. It isn’t forever, my heart seemed to cry. I muffled it by swinging close enough to capture Soren’s lips with mine. He smiled boyishly and ducked his head, but that kiss lingered, even after I dropped Soren and his stuff off at his house with the promise to text him later.

I went home to an empty house and it was just that—a house. No longer a home.

Because home was where the heart was, and mine was tied up in knots.