Rejected and Pregnant I Fled The Pack novel Chapter 58

Chapter 58

Chapter 58

+15 Bgnus

“I imagine not.” A ghost of something that might have been a tired, sad smile crossed his face. “I’ve spent thirty years being exactly the kind of man who never says things like this. I don’t know if it means much, coming this late, after everything’s already happened. But I needed to say it anyway.”

We stood there in silence for a moment, the evening settling in around us, and I found myself, cautiously, actually considering the possibility that this admission was genuine rather than another calculated maneuver.

“I don’t trust this easily,” I said finally, honestly. “You’ll have to understand that. Two days of an apology doesn’t erase what you tried at the hospital, or the threats against Damon’s mother, or Marissa.”

“I don’t expect it to,” he said quietly. “I’m not asking for trust today. I’m just telling you I understand, finally, exactly what I’ve cost everyone who actually mattered, and I intend to spend whatever time I have left trying to actually earn something different.”

Behind him, I caught sight of Sarah approaching quickly along the path, her expression alert and wary, clearly having read my earlier text with appropriate urgency. Damon’s father noticed the direction of my gaze and turned slightly, seeing her too, something almost approving flickering across his tired features at the evidence I’d taken precautions.

“Good,” he said quietly. “You should have someone watching, given everything. I’m glad Damon’s arranged that.”

Sarah reached the doorstep, positioning herself protectively near me, her hand resting lightly near the weapon at her hip, though she didn’t draw it, simply watching Damon’s father with careful, professional wariness.

“Everything alright, ma’am?” she asked, not taking her eyes off him.

“I think so,” I said carefully, still processing everything he’d just said. “He came to apologize, apparently.”

Sarah’s expression remained skeptical, though she didn’t interject further, clearly deferring to my judgment on how to handle it.

“I should go,” Damon’s father said, stepping back slightly from the doorstep. “I’ve said what I came to say. I won’t take more of your time than that.”

“Wait,” I said, surprising myself with the impulse. He paused, looking back at me with something cautiously hopeful in his expression. “Willow’s fine. If you’re wondering. She’s healthy, she’s sleeping soundly right now.”

Something shifted in his face at that-genuine, unguarded emotion breaking through the exhausted composure for just a moment, something that looked almost like grief mixed with longing.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he said quietly. “I don’t deserve to know it, probably. But thank you anyway.”

He turned and walked back down the path, his earlier commanding stride replaced by something slower, more subdued, and I watched him go with a strange, complicated mixture of lingering distrust and cautious, reluctant sympathy.

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