Warner's POV
We pull up to the clinic my mother uses for her practice. A sleek black Urus sits near the entrance, three small stickers decorating the rear window.
Mommy, Rockford, and Nicholson.
That first year after our encounter, I couldn't shake thoughts of her. It took weeks to wrestle my wolf back under control. More than once I nearly surrendered to his demands, finding strange solace in knowing she remained beyond my reach.
I don't deserve her forgiveness. I've always understood this truth, but this situation transcends her feelings now. Those children are going to need their father.
Arlene's entire body goes rigid when I walk through the clinic doors, yet she doesn't flee when I settle into the chair beside her. She clears her throat, eyes dropping to the paperwork clutched in her trembling hands. I reach over and take it from her, crushing it into a tight ball.
