Page 172 of Howlin’ For You

I wrap the Band-Aid around it, taking care to touch him as little as possible, and step back. “There.”

He takes a deep breath, grimacing. I wonder how deeply the thorn pierced his skin. “I need to apologize to you, Isabella.”

My eyes jump back up to his. Apologize? To me? We’ve never even spoken in person before. “You do?”

“Yes.” He stares at his finger for a moment before shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Honestly? I’ve been a little jealous since you’ve arrived in Lunamois.”

Please tell me Dane doesn’t have feelings for Nick.

I cock my head. I don’t think I could emotionally handle coming between Nick and his best friend.

“I’ve always wanted a partner. To find my mate. It’s been hard for me, and watching how quickly you and Nick connected? It’s been tougher than I thought it would be.”

Mate. I haven’t heard that word before.

The confusion must play on my face because Dane coughs. “I mean. You know. Girlfriend. Future wife…person.”

I cock my head at him. Strange. “I’m sorry, Dane. I understand loneliness all too well.”

I try to focus on his vulnerability, the fact that he would admit this to me, instead of the feeling of dread thickening in my stomach.

“I am glad you’ve found each other,” he says, cheeks slightly pink. He rubs the back of his neck and inclines his head back to his flower buckets. “I’ll finish up here and then get started on the tables and stage. Thank you for putting this together, Isabella.”

I watch as he continues, lining handmade multi-flower garlands along the booths and scattering the ground with orange, red, and yellow rose petals.

As we finalize every last detail, an anxious excitement fills my belly like a balloon ready to pop, mixing with that weird feeling that something strange is going on.

This is it.

CHAPTER FIFTY

NICK

I’m not sure what it is, but something about tonight feels monumental. Like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff.

I could either fly or fall.

Despite walking to the park last night, I keep rolling over all the tasks in my head, looking for holes or things I needed to do but didn’t. I just want this to be perfect for Izzy. I don’t want things to fall apart because of me.

I want her to look at me at the end of all of this and tell me she wants to stay. I want her to tell me that I’m worth uprooting her life for, that she’s found happiness here.

I want to tell her that if she hates it here, I’d follow her wherever she wants to go. I’d leave my home, my job, my life if she asked me.

I don’t want to be without her.

I pull on a lightweight sweater and faded blue jeans. I don’t think I’ve ever put as much thought into my outfits before Izzy showed up.

In fact, I know I haven’t.

The need for her approval lies just underneath my skin like an itch I can’t scratch. I pace around my bedroom—having gone home after breakfast—knowing it’s not time for me to show up but wanting to be there.

A sliver of pink catches my eye. Half-hidden under the bed, I pull on the fabric until it’s fully revealed.

Panties. Izzy’s panties.

I bunch them in my fist and put them to my nose, breathing in her scent so deeply my mind swims. Drowns in her.

Before I can overthink it, I pull out my phone.