Ryker and Jaxson, I know, never used to agree with it, always wanting to find their mates instead of doing what all other packs have now done for decades. So to hear him admit he is exactly like his father is quite shocking to me.
“I should get to work,” I say, voice hoarse.
He nods and grabs his keys.
“No,” I protest. “I can walk.”
“You’re not walking alone,” he says.
I roll my eyes knowing there is no point in arguing with him.
The bell over the diner door jingles as I step inside, the warmth and scent of grease hitting me like a wall. It’s nearly empty—just a couple of truckers nursing their coffee and a lone college kid typing away on his laptop. I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting Jaxson to be gone.
He’s still there.
Parked across the street, his car idling, headlights o
