Page 217 of All Packed Up

His alpha had been protecting him.

Nic’s breath escaped on a shaky word. “Twelve.”

“I was looking out for you. I didn’t want anything to happen to you, baby.”

It was a confession, an admission. And Nic couldn’t argue with that. “Thirteen.”

Griffith was smoothing his hand over every slap now, and Nic wondered just how bright red his ass was. It should have been positively glowing with how hot, how sensitive his skin was.

“You cannot control other people’s actions. Not even mine.” Smack.

Nic’s throat grew tight. Technically, Griffith was right. But Nic knew Griffith, inside and out. Shouldn’t he have anticipated such a martyr move from the alpha?

“You can’t,” Griffith growled. There was a threat of a bark in his voice, the warning shivering over his skin in a wave of goosebumps.

Couldn’t he have stopped Griffith in some way? Nic had relived that night in his mind a thousand times over. It’d kept him up at night, wishing things were different.

But they weren’t. And there was nothing Nic could do to change it now.

Maybe… maybe there hadn’t been anything he could have done in the moment either.

“Count.”

“Fourteen,” he whispered, voice breaking on the last syllable.

Grif spoke the next words right into his ear, his warmth cascading over Nic’s back, comforting and heavenly as his sweet honeyed scent dripped into his senses. “You are not responsible for what happened.”

Nic bit his lip, swallowing against the thorned ball of emotion prickling his throat.

The whispered words sank into him, stilled him beneath the alpha because… because Nic agreed with everything thus far. The logical conclusion was right in front of him, pouring out of Grif’s lips.

The last slap was harder than all the others had been, rocking him forward on his knees. He clenched his fists in the sheets and fought the tears welling in his eyes.

Griffith believed everything he’d said. Nic could feel it in the palm of his hand, in each whispered word.

“Did you hear me? You are not responsible for what happened.”

Something cracked in Nic’s chest, and he parted his lips. It opened the floodgates.

“F-Fifteen,” he sobbed. “Fifteen.”

Nic’s vision was a blur as Griffith spun him around and pulled the beta down into his lap. He hissed through his tears at the pain, but wrapped his arms around his alpha’s neck.

Of course it was uncomfortable, but what wasn’t uncomfortable about breaking down in front of the love of his life?

The pain, the throb of each smack was just a stark reminder of what Griffith had been trying to make him see all this time.

Grif kissed him. Pecked his wobbling lips and sipped his tears away, scratched his hands through Nic’s hair and murmured sweet everythings in his ear. He heard each one of them over the sound of his aching sobs.

The spot where Grif had been missing had been filled with a soul-deep guilt. The self-blame was a distraction, a barrier, a crooked Band-Aid he’d slapped over Grif’s absence to keep himself sane.

He just didn’t realize it had hurt so much, didn’t realize how much hurt he was causing himself until it was gone. Until Griffith was back in his rightful place and there was nowhere for it all to go.

So he let it out. Grif brought it out of him with soft words and softer touches, and at one point, Nic was certain the alpha shed his own tears.

“I’m sorry,” Nic cried, words wobbly. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up for you that day. I’m sorry I let my guilt get in the way. I missed you so much, every day.”

“I know,” Griffith said softly, stroking his hair.