Ambrose frowns and consults his watch as he takes my pulse for the third time.

"What is it?" I ask, impatience and anxiety sharpening my voice.

Ignoring me, he adjusts his stethoscope about his neck, which he'd extracted from his traveling vet's kit, and places the bell against my back. "Deep breath. Again."

He repeats this a few times, then takes my temperature — thankfully with one of those infrared contactless ones and not whatever he uses on dogs and cats.

Still frowning, he notes the readout and shakes his head. "The good news is your heart sounds healthy, overall."

"Overall?"

He glances at Noah, who leans against the kitchen counter, watching and chewing his nails. "Your pulse is slower and weaker than I'd like, and you're running a slight temperature. How've you been feeling lately?"

I rub my brow and rise from my seat at the dining table to pace the floor. "Fine. A little tired, maybe."

"Any lightheadedness before today? Dizziness, pain?"

I recall a half dozen incidents but shake my head. "No, not really."

"Not really, hm?" Ambrose casts a glance at me over his shoulder as he packs away the tools of his trade. From the quirk of his thick auburn brow, it's clear he's not fooled.

"I'm sure it's just stress and lack of sleep," I say. "The start of the school year is always rough. And with the move and everything..."

I trail off, worrying my bottom lip.

"It's been a year, Martin," Noah murmurs. "You can't keep blaming it on the move. You know—"

"There's nothing wrong with me!" The sudden snap in my voice startles everyone, including me, and I cringe. "Sorry. I mean... is there?"

I look at Ambrose. He shrugs.

"I cannae say. If you were a dog, I'd suspect early-stage heart failure and run more tests. If you were human, I'd recommend you visit a proper human doctor and do the same. But you're neither, and I don't know enough about werewolf illnesses to hazard a guess. Perhaps you're right, and it's naught but stress. I can tell you one thing, though: if it were myself, or my Noah, I wouldn't let it lie."

I run a slightly shaky hand through my hair, but Noah speaks before I can come up with a reply.

"Can I have a moment alone with my brother?" he asks.

Ambrose nods. "Of course. I'll keep the little rascals entertained while you talk."

"No fire," I call after him hastily. "Rio was a little too fascinated, last time."

"Ah, right you are. We'll be safe."

When we're alone, Noah regards me with a frown.

I return it. "What?"

"You know what." He holds my gaze; he's gained a lot of confidence since finding his Mate.

I sigh and turn away, moving to stand in front of the windows overlooking the back yard.

"What of it? It can't be helped."

"It can," he insists. "Martin, you have to let her go."

"I have let her go."

"Clearly you haven't. Not completely."

I scoff. "Noah, she threatened our children. She beat and tortured me. If things hadn't gone down the way they had, I have no doubt she'd have killed me, eventually. And in all of it, I only had one rule: not in front of the kids. There was nothing to let go of, believe me."

"You loved her, once. I remember your wedding. You looked like the happiest man on earth. Like you couldn't believe your luck."

I laugh bitterly. "Luck that quickly changed. Believe me, Noah, whatever love I had for her died a long time ago."

"The Mate bond doesn't die easily," he says. "Love or not, it's—"

"What would you know about it?" I snarl. "Your Mate's not a Wolf, and you don't—"

Cringing, I bite my lip to shut myself up and taste blood as I break the skin. I lash out when people get too close to a nerve, and I hate myself for it. Turning mean on people who care about me — especially when they're the only people who care about me — is not an endearing trait.

I hear Noah sigh as he comes to stand at my side, flinching when he rests a gentle hand on my shoulder.

Shaking my head, I wipe hastily at my eyes and dab my sleeve against my lip. "I'm sorry. I know it doesn't matter, Wolf or not. Ambrose loves you more fiercely than any Alpha could. But I swear I feel nothing for Elena except a desire never to see her again. Our bond is broken."

"Maybe," Noah allows, with more compassion than I deserve. "But an incompletely severed bond can be like an incompletely severed limb — something you end up dragging around as it rots and poisons you from the inside out. We've all made our share of mistakes — Dane included — but he's a good alpha, at heart. He could help, if you let him."

I struggle to suppress another scoff. "How?"

Noah shrugs. "There are rituals a Pack can perform. Ways to move on from the past; heal through our shared bonds."

"Werewolf therapy, huh?" I laugh and shake my head. Then, collecting myself as best I can, I turn to my brother and smile. "Noah, I really am fine. I promise. I've just had a rough week."

He returns my smile, but his own is oddly sad. "All right. Just remember you're not alone, Martin. You're never alone, here. Dane doesn't want to push you, but if you ask him, he'll be there in a heartbeat: for the kids and for you."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and I'm grateful when Noah lets it go and turns the topic to other things, like the renovations I'm planning for the garage.

〜〜〜

"Mr. Sky asked about you again today, Dad," Nico says, as he drops his backpack by the door and comes to grab a snack from the tray I'd prepared: apples and peanut butter, crackers and cheese.

"Oh, yeah?" I keep my voice carefully neutral as I spray cleaner on the windows and wipe them down.

It's Tuesday, and I've been doing my best to put the past week in the rear-view mirror. Saturday night, after Noah and Ambrose left, I'd spent a good two hours re-organizing my schedule. I had it down to an art — every minute accounted for, productivity to the max, and even time set aside for myself.

I'll prove that I'm completely, absolutely, one-hundred-and-ten-percent fine, or I'll die trying.

I wince and promise myself never to say that aloud; even in my head it sounds bad.

"Yeah!" Nico continues, as Rio joins him. "He asked if he could come over after school tomorrow."

"Did he?" I say, distractedly rubbing at a stubborn streak, the rag squeaking loudly against the glass. How do kids get handprints everywhere? "That's nice."

"Yep. He said you'd make a nice wife."

I choke on spit and double over, coughing. "He said what?"

Rio rolls his eyes and raises his voice, as if he assumes every adult is half deaf. "He said he hopes you like rice."

"Rice?" I wipe my eyes and catch my breath. "Why would he hope that I like rice?"

Nico swipes some snacks off the plate and takes over from his brother. "Rio's not telling it right," he says. "Mr. Sky asked if you were feeling better, and we told him you were, except for being really busy. Then he asked if he could 'swing by' tomorrow to say 'hi,' and promised to bring some food with him. He said he hopes you like rice, because it's all he knows how to cook."

"Oh." I rub the back of my hand across my brow, aware that it feels hotter than it should after such mild exertion. "Where will he cook the rice?" I ask, thinking aloud. His van doesn't have a kitchen, or electricity, after all.

"I dunno," Nico and Rio say in unison, lifting their shoulders in an exaggerated shrug.

"He said he's gonna propose," Nico adds.

I choke again and blink against tears as some window cleaner fumes get in my eyes.

"He what?"

Rio huffs and glances at his twin, hands on his hips. "Now who's not telling it right? He said he had some 'bidness' to propose."

"Business?" I ask, taking a guess a Rio's pronunciation. "What business?"

"I dunno," he says again. "He said it was some idea he had. Some 'adult stuff.'"

I turn away and apply more elbow grease to the window, hoping the kids don't see the warmth lighting my face.

Maybe I have been alone too long.

"Well?" Nico prompts. "Can Mr. Sky come over after school?"

I swallow and force myself to smile. The last thing I want is more concern, and the last place I need it from is a teacher at the kids' school. But this could also be the perfect opportunity to prove just how perfectly fine I really am. One and done.

"Sure," I hear myself say, glad that my voice sounds easy and normal in my own ears. "Tell 'Mr. Sky' we'll be delighted to have him visit."