Chapter 152: The Night Her Ex Returned
"Evan! What...are you...doing here?" She sputtered.
He didn’t answer right away.
Just stood there, hands in his pockets, eyes on her like she hadn’t left.
"Evan," she said again, quieter this time. "Say something."
His jaw tightened slightly. He looked down for a moment, then back at her.
"I missed you," he said.
Emma didn’t move.
Her eyes stayed on him, steady now, like she was trying to read through him instead of just looking at him.
Evan shifted his weight. One hand left his pocket, then went back in again like he couldn’t decide what to do with it.
"You don’t get to say that," she said softly.
His brow tightened. "Why not?"
She let out a small breath, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it.
"Because you don’t just disappear... and then show up like nothing happened."
A silence hunged between them.
Evan’s jaw tightened. His eyes shifted away—only for a second—like the words had landed harder than he meant to show.
When he looked back, his voice was lower. "I didn’t come to pretend nothing happened."
Emma’s fingers tightened at her side.
A chair scraped softly beside her.
Brandon rose.
Not rushed. Not loud. Just steady—like he had already made up his mind about this moment before it even came.
Silence settled again, thick and unbroken.
Evan didn’t flinch. His mouth curved instead, easy and familiar, like the tension in the hall didn’t belong to him.
He stepped forward and offered his hand.
Brandon took it.
The shake was firm. Controlled. Neither of them held on too long.
A polite collision that meant nothing and everything at once.
Emma watched it happen without moving.
Her breath slowed, then stopped short in her throat when she realized she had been holding it.
Evan released Brandon first, like he was done setting the terms of the moment.
Emma looked away before either of them could turn to her.
Her fingers curled against her palm, nails pressing faintly into skin.
For a split second, a thought flashed through her—quick, unwanted—then vanished just as fast.
She swallowed it down and lifted her chin again.
"Evan," she said, voice even but tighter now, "why are you really here?"
"I came with my father," he said lightly, a grin slipping in like it belonged there.
"Where is your father?" She asked. He pointed in his direction. She waved at him with a smile and he smiled and waved back. It was apparent he was not expecting her to wave at him after everything they did to her.
"Emma, I’m sorry. I...I..."
She was glad nothing intimate had ever happened between them a few winters ago, that thought would’ve struck her the moment she saw him..
Now, it didn’t even surface.
"Don’t worry, Morgan has told me everything that happened," she said and flashed Brandon a curt stare. His eyes were on his device but she knew he saw what she did. Evan looked at him and laughed.
"Oh, she did?"
"Yes," she responded.
"I’m glad you’re not mad at us," he said before walking away.
It was obvious Evan still loved Emma. Brandon tossed his device aside again and laced his left hand with her right.
"Moonheart, you look tired," he said quietly. "Come with me. You should rest."
His hand hovered near her chair for a second, then dropped again—controlled, restrained.
His eyes shifted to Evan, quick and sharp, then returned to Emma like nothing had happened.
"Let’s go," he added under his breath, already shifting his wolf as if to guide her away from the table.
Emma blinked at him, then let out a small breath through her nose.
"I’m fine," she said, adjusting her posture in the chair.
Her fingers smoothed the edge of her dress as she looked up at him.
"I don’t need the bed yet," she added quietly, holding his gaze for a beat longer than usual.
"Should I carry you instead?" he said, tilting his head, a teasing edge in his voice.
Emma let out a short laugh, shaking her head as she leaned back slightly.
"Ha... not today," she said, still smiling.
He stood and reached out his hand. She slipped her fingers into his and followed.
The moment they stepped inside the house, she broke away and ran. His steps hit the floor right behind her.
She lunged for the elevator. He caught her around the waist just before she reached it.
He lifted her off her feet, turned, and pressed the elevator button with his free hand as the doors slid open.
He tightened his hold as the elevator doors slid shut, a quiet laugh slipping out.
"Where exactly were you running to?" he said, eyes steady on hers. "You really thought you could escape me?"
His head tilted slightly. "In this building... in that little head of yours... there’s nowhere I won’t find you."
His hand stayed firm at her waist as the elevator moved. "Next time you try to run," he added softly, "make it harder for me."
Emma lifted her chin slightly, her breathing steady. She didn’t look away.
"You talk too much," she said, lips curving faintly. She shifted in his arms just enough to test his grip, then stilled when it didn’t give.
"I ran because I don’t trust your intentions in closed spaces."
Emma kept her face calm. Her heart gave a small, uneven beat.
"Oh?" he murmured, stepping closer until barely any space remained between them. "So you’re saying I have intentions now?"
His hand stayed at her waist as the elevator moved. His thumb brushed against her side once, slow and unhurried.
Emma looked up at him, her lips curving a little. She shifted slightly in his hold to meet his gaze.
"Maybe," she said softly, "I just don’t like being alone with trouble."
Her fingers tapped his wrist lightly, then stayed there, steady.
"Your favorite song took me back to the first day I came to your house. I wanted to kiss you so badly, but we were too young. I’ll never forget our first kiss, Moonheart. That was the day I truly felt like a real wolf," he said softly, brushing his thumb across her lower lip.
Then he kissed her—long, warm, and unhurried. She kissed him back just as deeply, and when he finally pulled away, she looked up at him with dreamy eyes.
"I love you, Emma," he said. She couldn’t remember the last time he called her name. His next kiss was engulfing, ravenous yet lovely, teasing her with a hint of promise as he drove her wolf to a unique altitude of awareness.
Emma’s breath hitched, her fingers slowly curling into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss faded.
For a moment, she didn’t move.
Then her forehead rested lightly against his, eyes still closed.
"You shouldn’t say things like that so easily," she whispered, her voice softer now.
Her hand stayed on his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady under her palm.
"But..." she exhaled slowly, opening her eyes to meet him, "...don’t pretend you didn’t mean it."
She didn’t step back. She stayed close, the silence between them soft and easy.
After a moment, Brandon brushed his fingers against hers and led her to the bathchamber to freshen up.
His thumb brushed lightly along her waist beneath the warm water.
"So that’s why you were acting like you wanted to escape earlier?"
He splashed a little water at her with a grin.
"Your ex shows up and suddenly you’re running from me?"
Emma laughed softly and splashed water right back at his chest.
"Please," she said, pushing wet hair away from her face. "You really think Evan stands a chance when you’re in my bathtub acting this shameless?"
She tried to move away, but his arm slipped around her waist again, pulling her back against him.
"And besides..." her fingers slid slowly across his damp chest, light and unhurried, "...you’re the one I should be worried about."
Her lips curved as she glanced up at him.
"You’re jealous, remember?"
Brandon’s mouth twitched.
"Jealous?" he repeated, voice low, almost amused, stepping closer until the edge of the bathtub brushed against the back of her legs. "Emma... I was one bad sentence away from dragging Evan out of that hall myself."
A soft laugh slipped from her lips.
"There it is," she murmured.
His hand settled at her waist—warm, unhurried. His eyes dropped to her mouth for a beat before lifting again.
"You walk around like this," he said quietly, "and expect me to act normal?"
Emma tilted her head, fighting a smile. "You’re impossible."
"And you love it," he answered without hesitation.
He reached for a towel hanging nearby and gently pulled her closer. She turned without resisting, damp strands falling forward as he draped the towel over her head.
The air softened. Steam clung to the mirrors, curling and slowly fading.
Only the quiet drag of fabric filled the space now.
Brandon’s hands moved slower, careful—fingers threading through her wet hair, squeezing out the water, brushing lightly at her neck like he didn’t want to miss a single second of it.
Emma’s shoulders loosened against him. Her eyes fluttered shut.
"You’re unusually sweet this moonfall," she mumbled.
A faint smirk touched his voice behind her. "Don’t get used to it."
"Too late."
A low chuckle left him.
When her hair finally stopped dripping, he tossed the towel aside and slid his hand into hers. No rush. Just steady.
He led her out of the bathchamber and toward the bed.
The mattress dipped as she sat, but before she could fully settle, he was already behind her—pulling her back into his chest like it was the most natural thing in the pack.
His arm locked around her waist. Her wolf softened instantly into his.
"Stay still," he murmured, chin brushing her shoulder.
Emma exhaled, fingers curling around his forearm.
The chamber dimmed further.
The moonfall outside pressed quietly against the windows.
His hand moved once through her hair again—slower this time, like he was checking she was really there.
"Sleep," he said, voice lower now.
Her eyelids grew heavy. Her grip loosened.
And just as her breathing finally evened out—
The nightstand vibrated.
Sharp. Loud. Insistent.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
Emma stirred slightly, brows knitting as he reached for it.
The moment the screen lit up, everything in Brandon changed.
The warmth in his face disappeared.
His jaw tightened. His thumb hovered over the screen.
Silence settled heavily between them.
Then he slowly turned the device toward her.
Emma frowned at the caller ID.
"Evan... why are you calling me this late?"
