Page 18 of Flint's Arrow
“But you’re home now.” Pax patted Flint’s shoulder. “And you don’t have to deal with that asshole if you don’t want to.”
Arrow’s chest tightened. He wanted to shift, to speak, and to finally explain, but Storm’s warning glare kept him frozen in wolf form.
Flint’s gaze swept the sawmill, taking in the cars, the makeshift seating area someone had set up, and the small portable heater Devon must have brought in. Finally, his eyes landed on Arrow’s wolf. Arrow couldn’t read his expression. Exhaustion, yes. But underneath? Anger? Hurt? Nothing at all?
His wolf whined again, pressing low to the ground in submission.
“How long has he been like this?” Flint asked.
“He shifted about an hour ago,” Levi rumbled from where he leaned against one of the cars. “Been whining ever since.”
“Before that, Pax lectured him for approximately six hours straight,” Python added, smirking. “I’m pretty sure he knows every single way he screwed up by now.”
“Fair enough.” Flint unwrapped the sandwich, took a bite, and chewed mechanically. He looked at Arrow for a long moment, and Arrow’s wolf trembled under that stare.
Finally, Flint swallowed. “I need to finish this food, have a shower, and grab a nap.” His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. “You have a choice, Arrow. You can leave now, and we’ll never see each other again. Or my friends will let you come to my house in two hours, and you can say whatever it is you wanted to say when you sneaked in here.”
Arrow shifted without thinking, his human form stumbling forward. “Flint, please, I…”
“Two hours.” Flint cut him off, his expression hardening. “Or never. The choice is yours.”
“I’ll wait.” The words tumbled out. “I’ll wait. Please.”
Flint nodded once, then turned to Python. “Thanks for the pickup.”
“Anytime, killer.” Python’s smirk softened into something almost gentle. “Get some rest. We’ll make sure the puppy behaves himself.”
Flint left without looking at Arrow again.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Arrow stood naked in the middle of the sawmill, shaking, his wolf howling inside his chest. He had two hours to figure out what to say, how to apologize, how to make Flint understand that he hadn’t meant…
“Sit down before you fall down,” Levi said, his voice surprisingly calm. He tossed Arrow a towel. “Cover yourself up. You look like shit.”
Arrow wrapped the towel around his waist and sank onto one of the chairs someone had brought in. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Storm grabbed another sandwich from a cooler and thrust it at Arrow. “Eat.”
“I’m not…”
“You’re about to go and talk to Flint, and you look like you haven’t eaten in three days.” Storm’s tone left no room for argument. “You want to pass out in front of him? Eat the damn sandwich.”
Arrow took it. The bread was soft, the meat perfectly grilled, although it tasted like ash in his mouth. But he forced it down anyway because Storm was right. It took a strong man to apologize, and he had to be that man.
“There’s a shower in the back,” Devon said, his voice gentle despite his size. “You need to clean up. Storm’s got clothes that’ll fit you well enough.”
“Why are you helping me?” The question burst out before Arrow could stop it. “After what I did to him?”
Devon’s expression didn’t change. “Because Flint deserves better than a mate who shows up filthy and desperate. If you’re going to grovel - and you’re going to be the best damn groveler the world has ever seen - you’re going to do it properly.”
“And if you screw this up again,” Pax added, “I’ll curse your dick so hard you won’t be able to piss straight for a decade. Clear?”
“Crystal.” Arrow’s voice cracked.
Wren materialized on the other side, his eyes sympathetic but firm. “Flint is the best person I know. He’s kind, patient, and talented, and you made him cry. You made him think he wasn’t good enough.”
Guilt crashed over Arrow like a wave. “I know. I know I did, and I…”
