He’d come for her.
He’d left his birthday celebration and followed her, tracked her through the woods, and without a single plea from her, was taking the reins of her chaotic life for a minute so she could rest her weary mind. And damn, it felt so good not to have to worry about anything for tonight, because every instinct in her said Weston would take care of her. Perhaps not for always, and perhaps only as friends, but that was better than nothing.
His triceps flexed as he pushed on something inside of her car, and when he muttered a curse, she asked, “Can I do anything?”
“Nah, and neither can I tonight. Your battery is older than dinosaur shit, your belt is shot, and your engine didn’t even try to turn over for me. Maybe it’s just the battery, but I don’t like how it died mid-ride on you.”
“Oh.” She wrung her hands and tried to imagine how much all of this would cost to repair at an auto shop. How discouraging that her first paycheck and probably more would already be blown.
“I can get it running again, but I need parts and can’t get them until tomorrow. I’ll call the police station and tell them we’ll tow it to Harper’s Mountains in the morning so they won’t give you a ticket tonight. You can ride with me.”
“But you have tours tomorrow,” she said. “Weston, I appreciate you helping me, but I won’t risk your new business for this.”
Weston jerked his gaze to hers, and a flash of surprise was there in his eyes. Then they softened, and he let off a slight smile just before he gave his attention back to lowering the hood of her car. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll take care of it after the tours are done for the day.”
“Okay.” She wanted to say so much more than that. She wanted to tell him how much this all meant to her, how relieved she was that he wasn’t mad at her anymore. She wanted to tell him if he ever needed anything—anything at all—she would gladly do it. But he was locked onto her with his gaze again, and her words got all caught up in her throat. His eyes were the pitch black that hers turned when her raven was riled up, and his lips were pursed, as though he was trying to figure her out.
He looked beautiful here in the soft glow of the streetlight behind him. Beautiful? That was an impossible word for a man who was strapped with muscles and covered in tattoos, but he was. He was her beautiful raven man. This moment right here felt like she was falling. Not sinking in the mud that had taken over her life, but the feeling she got when she dove from a great height and spread her wings at the last minute, when her stomach dipped to the ground and made her want to laugh and yell with happiness. She had always been intrigued and a little intimidated by Weston Novak, but now she was falling hard for him.
Instead of telling him all of her mushy thoughts, she parted her lips and said, “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked, a slight frown furrowing his brows.
For the kiss and for coming after me. For holding me when I found out my life was a lie. For telling me everything will be okay. For all the letters that saved me when I was a kid. For being you.
He wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment, though, so instead she said the only other words that felt right. “Thank you for everything.”
When one corner of his lip turned up, her breath stuttered in her chest. So damn stunning.
Weston jerked his chin toward his truck parked at an angle on the side of the deserted road. “Get in and turn on the heat. I’ll grab your stuff.”
“Okay,” she murmured, her legs and arms feeling numb with what had transpired in the woods. She’d thought her life was over, thought the darkness was swallowing her up, but Weston had come in and, like a beacon of light, absorbed the darkness and took the impossible weight off her heart.
And now the rough, quiet, dangerous Novak Raven was being so tender with her. Avery made her way through the mud to the passenger’s side of his truck and climbed in. It had been lifted a few inches and sat on fat mud tires, so she had to use the rails and scramble a bit to reach the seat, but when she was finally in, she turned on the car to get the heat going, as much for her as for Weston, so he could be comfortable when he got inside.
She canted her head and watched him pull her bedding and her suitcase from her car. He even slung her purse over his massive shoulder and made his way to her with long, confident strides. Something had changed in him. And when she looked down to turn the radio dial, the word Home was running across the screen with a phone number underneath, like he’d just ended the call. Home. His home? He must’ve called his father.
She frowned. No. He must’ve called his mother, Aviana Novak, because she was the one who would know the most about Avery. Chills rippled up her skin. She’d grown up idolizing Aviana, and whatever her heroine had said to Weston had made a difference in his opinion of her.
She’d never talked to Aviana except for the one meeting they had when she was young, and she remembered she wasn’t like the raven women she’d imagined. Aviana had sat straight and proud and had been angry, with her mother perhaps. Made sense now if Aviana had found out about the council’s treachery. Avery hated the idea that the council had read Weston’s letters. What must it have been like for Aviana to realize her own people were after her son? Avery felt sick just thinking about being a part of the council’s plan—whatever it was.
Weston shoved her things in the back seat and jogged around the front of the truck. Raindrops fell in a constant downpour in the high beams, and his ripped torso was illuminated as he passed through. When he climbed into his truck and pulled the belt over his lap, she asked him before she lost her nerve. “Did your mother change your mind about me?”