(Kaelen)
I read it all.
Three hours on the study floor, my back against the desk, the journal open in my lap and the photographs spread around me like evidence of something I'm still deciding the name of. I read every entry in order, from the first — *Day 1, she smiled at a pup not hers* — through five years of a man watching a woman from across rooms and writing it down and never once doing anything about it.
That's the thing I keep coming back to.
He never did anything.
No approach. No manufactured meeting. No use of his position or his age or his alpha status to insert himself into her life. He watched, and he wrote, and he kept the watching contained within himself like something he'd decided was his to carry and no one else's.
The journal entries are not what I expected.
I expe
