She was hurting.
That much was clear.
The phone rang while I was still standing there, my focus stretched thin between the night air and the faint pull I’d just felt.
I looked down at the screen.
Unknown number.
For a second, I considered ignoring it. Whoever it was could wait. Everything could wait. But something told me not to. I answered.
“Yes.”
There was a pause on the other end.
“Don’t end the call,” the voice said. “You’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
Patrick. I knew that voice.
I turned slightly, angling away from the pack house, my jaw setting on instinct.
“We have nothing to talk about, Patrick,” I said. “You already know that.”
“I do,” he replied easily. “Which is why I won’t waste time pretending otherwise.”
Silence stretched between us, deliberate on his part.
