Having found the root cause of Angus' suffering, as unwelcome as the diagnosis had been, seemed to cement Ephraim's trust in me. Slowly, he began introducing me to each member of the Council. Their reception of me varied, though none made me feel unwelcome. I guessed that Ephraim and Gabriel had both vouched for me beforehand.

Among those I met, the kindest by far had been Victor and his wife Elodie. Given our interaction in the grocery store, they were the pair I'd been most wary of. But whether or not Gabriel had discussed our situation with Victor didn't seem to make a difference. Elodie was particularly excited: she was four months pregnant with their firstborn and I suspected that she was pleased to have a woman to see her through to term. Ephraim had previously offered that she work with Marie, but Elodie confided in me when he was out of the room that she was terrified of her. I was glad to hear I wasn't the only one.

There were times I found myself feeling happy, genuinely happy. I was finding my place here, and though my own methods weren't accepted, I was learning quickly from Ephraim and beginning to appreciate the intricacies of wolf medicine. It had a long and deep history, and as I grew more adept, I felt increasingly connected to that side of my heritage. I missed what I knew, to be sure, but learning and growing in a different direction was exciting in its own right. 

In the back of my mind, home called to me. Jack called to me. It was during those moments of happiness when the guilt crept in. Though I hadn't chosen this for myself, I wasn't fighting it, either. I could have taken Dmitri up on his offer all those weeks ago at the Alpha gathering. Someone else would have taken my place, and I'd be back at my clinic. In my house. With my partner. But I hadn't. I'd stayed. And not only had I stayed, but I was leaning into my new life here. So no, it hadn't been my choice to come here. But it was my choice to leave that part of my life behind for the time being.

Unsurprisingly, I was not invited to continue accompanying Ephraim on his visits to Angus, which were now weekly. He continued to decline, and he continued to make arrangements for his own death without considering alternative treatment. I hated it, but without his consent there was nothing more I could do.

Meanwhile, across a string of private moments, Gabriel and I cautiously explored our growing connection. There was still uncertainty there, on both of our parts, but we could each sense when the other was pulling back. Boundaries were noted and respected. Red lines were neither pushed nor crossed—and he had many.

Once, I'd asked him about his family; the dark expression that drew across his features told me it wasn't a conversation he was ready to have. Neither was he willing to tell me about his romantic history. And, whether it was rumor or not, he never came close to telling me that he was bound. There were times when he pulled away and I had to accept that he did it for good reason. Being with Gabriel had a steep learning curve.

As it was, each morning we met in the kitchen before work. He would make himself a strong, black chicory coffee, and would pour me a mug of green tea. Some mornings, we observed this ritual in complete silence. This morning, from the moment I entered, I got the sense that this would be one of those. I was prepared to sit in the comfortable quiet with him until a streak of crimson on the side of the mug he'd pulled out of the cupboard caught my eye.

"Gabriel, you're bleeding." I slid off the stool to move around the kitchen island to get a closer look. He tried to move his hand out of my sightline, but for once I was quicker. I caught it and held it close to my face to examine the small cut.

"It's nothing." He pulled it sharply out of my grasp.

"You did that last night." I'd watched it happen when I'd been waiting in his office for him to finish paperwork before dinner: his hand, trembling, had slipped with the letter opener, slicing into his palm. He'd laughed it off then and claimed I was making him nervous. "It should be healed by now."

He hummed indifferently and jammed his hand into his pocket.

"Gabriel—" I started. Regarding him more closely now, I realized just how worn down he was becoming. Dark circles bloomed under his eyes and his skin looked dull. A permanent frown seemed to be etched across his forehead, lines deep and prominent.

He cut me off, voice hard. "Stop worrying about me. I'm fine."

I raised my hands and backed off. "Sure, alright. Want to have lunch together?"

"I'll be in and out of meetings for the next couple of days."

"Oh. Okay. I'll see you around, then." I wanted to push him, but I knew better. We were still trying to navigate this, and I was afraid that if I pushed too hard, his walls would go up even higher. I imagined that was what had happened with Odette: she'd wanted something he couldn't give her, and she'd pursued it too relentlessly. I still wasn't entirely convinced that I wasn't simply a distraction from her, but I didn't want to end up making the same mistake.

It would be another two days before I saw him, this time catching him on his way out the front door. His appearance had improved slightly—he at least looked like he'd gotten some decent sleep, but the frown lines were still there, and he was as tense as ever.

"Am I going to see you later?" We swapped places across the threshold of the door and it took all of my self-control not to reach out and close those few small inches to touch him. Only a handful of nights ago, we'd spent all evening curled up on my couch in front of the fire, both of us reading our own books, bodies touching at every point of contact we could comfortably manage. I wanted to feel him again.

"Depends on work." The distance that had crept into his voice the last time I'd seen him was still there, but I tried my best to ignore it.

Just when I'd nearly given up on him for the night, as I was climbing up to my loft, Gabriel came in my front door quietly.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming." I hopped down off the ladder and went to greet him.

"Wasn't planning on it." Instead of looking at me, he busied himself with taking off his jacket and untying his shoes, taking the time to place them neatly beside the front door. When I finally caught him and forced him to meet my gaze, I could tell by the pained look in his eyes that he wasn't well.

"Your head's bothering you again." I reached up to smooth my thumb over the furrow between his brows and he leaned into my hand, closing his eyes. The long sigh he breathed in response was warm against my palm. Already, just by that slight bit of skin-to-skin contact, his tempestuous mood was soothed and the stiffness fell from his shoulders.

Gabriel leaned down and nuzzled his forehead into my neck, arms finding their way around me to encircle my waist and pull me in close. I craned my neck to kiss the top of his head and let him stay like that for a while, until his weight became too much for me to hold up and we both swayed with the effort of trying to remain standing.

I led him by his hand to the ladder and we climbed up together into the loft. Without changing, we both collapsed in our clothes onto the bed and he crawled over to lay nearly on top of me, settling in with his head on my chest. 

In the dark, I ran my fingers through his hair. I worked my way gently through the tangles as his head rose and fell with my breathing. "What have all these meetings been about?"

"More rogue attacks." He felt my breath catch and added, "None on Sawtooth. The Bitterroot and Olympic Packs."

"Was anyone—" I started. Again, he read my mind and preempted my question.

"Not this time. But both used silver blades."

I thought back to the discussion during the Alpha gathering about the blades and wondered whether the suspicions I'd voiced then were still a possibility. "Was it the same group of rogues both times?"

Gabriel shook his head. "We're not sure."

I hummed. "Either way, I'm more worried about you right now."

"I'm fine." He traced a rough hand up my stomach underneath my sweatshirt, clearly trying to distract me. It was hard, but I didn't let him.

"You're not fine," I argued. "You look exhausted, your healing has slowed. You're getting headaches again."

"This is the first one since the last time I came to you," he said dismissively.

"Still. You shouldn't be getting them at all."

Gabriel shifted his body even closer, caging me in beneath him, still with one palm pressed against my skin. "This is all I needed. I feel better already just being close to you."

"Then stop avoiding me," I whispered. His only response was tightening his grip around me. I sighed, reminding myself to take what I could get. For tonight, I could accept this as enough.