My fingers tighten around the phone 49

Aria’s POV
Moonlight paints silver ribbons across the winding mountain road as Leo’s luxury SUV glides smoothly through the
darkness. The familiar scent of leather and his subtle cologne mingles with the ethereal fragrance of moonflowers,
creating an atmosphere that feels almost dreamlike. In the rearview mirror, I watch Lucas lounging against the cream
leather seats, his small fingers playing with the delicate silver blooms Leo brought him. Their soft glow illuminates his
face.
“… and then Tommy said wolves can’t eat ice cream, but that’s not true, right, Uncle Leo?” Lucas chatters excitedly about
his day at school. “Because you bought me that super special moon-berry sundae last time!”
Leo laughs, the sound warm and rich in the confined space of the car. “Well, Tommy clearly hasn’t met many wolves.
Though perhaps we should keep the ice cream adventures between us?” He winks at Lucas in the mirror, and my son
giggles conspiratorially.
“Let me drive you both home,” Leo had insisted after dinner, his elegant fingers drumming that familiar gentle rhythm on
the steering wheel. “Wild wolf attacks have been increasing lately. I’d feel better knowing you’re safe.” His voice had
carried that note of genuine concern that always makes it hard to refuse him.
I’d meant to decline – but one look at Lucas’s hopeful expression had crumbled my resolve. Now, watching my son’s
obvious comfort with Leo, I wonder if I made the right choice.
“Uncle Leo,” he suddenly sits up straight, his forest-green eyes glinting in the darkness with an intensity. “Do you like my
mom?”
I choke on my water, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. But Leo just chuckles warmly, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview
mirror with that gentle understanding that’s become so familiar over the years.
“Of course I do, buddy. Who wouldn’t like your mom?” The sincerity in his voice makes something in my chest twist
uncomfortably.
“So will you marry her?” Lucas presses, leaning forward between the front seats with the kind of eager hope that only
children can muster. “The ladies at the training facility say you’re perfect together. And you always bring me treats… Plus,
mom smiles more when you’re around.”
The atmosphere in the car shifts, becoming charged with unspoken emotions. I notice Leo’s fingers tighten almost
imperceptibly on the steering wheel, though his voice remains light and easy. The moonflowers’ scent seems to intensify,
filling the space with their ethereal fragrance.
“Lucas,” I cut in, perhaps more sharply than intended, “that’s not something children need to worry about.”
“Why not?” His lower lip juts out in that stubborn way he’s definitely inherited from me, a gesture that usually makes me
smile but now just adds to my growing discomfort. “I like Uncle Leo. He’s nice, and he makes you smile, Mom. Plus, he
knows all about wolves and pack stuff. He could teach me everything!”
The weight of those innocent words settles heavy in the car, making the air feel thick with possibilities and regrets. From
the corner of my eye, I catch the slight furrow in Leo’s brow, there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it. But I
know him well enough to recognize the tension in his shoulders, the careful way he keeps his eyes on the road.
“Sweetheart,” I turn in my seat to face my son, choosing my words carefully. “Uncle Leo is a wonderful friend, but some
things…” I pause, searching for the right way to explain adult complexities to a child’s understanding. “Not all
relationships need to become marriages. Sometimes friendship is more precious exactly as it is.”
Leo’s eyes find mine in the mirror again, and the understanding I see there makes my throat tight. He deserves so much
better than this complicated mess – a woman without her wolf powers, carrying another alpha’s child and enough
emotional baggage to sink a ship. His kindness these past six years has been a lifeline, but I can’t let Lucas build castles in
the air about us.
The silence stretches, broken only by the soft purr of the engine and Lucas’s quiet humming – a lullaby I used to sing to
him when he was smaller.
“Hey,” Leo’s gentle voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts, “we’re home.”
The SUV comes to a smooth stop outside our apartment building. The moonflowers’ ethereal glow seems stronger now,
their silver light filling the car with an almost magical quality. Lucas has dozed off in the back seat, his small face peaceful
in sleep, looking so young and vulnerable it makes my heart clench.
“I’ll carry him up,” Leo offers, already reaching for his seatbelt with that instinctive protectiveness that’s become second
nature to him.
“No,” I say quickly as Leo reaches for his seatbelt. “You’ve done enough. I can manage.” The words come out more
brusque than intended, but Leo just nods, his expression unreadable in the shadows.
He helps me gather Lucas’s school things anyway, movements careful and precise. As I lift my sleeping son into my arms,
feeling his warm weight against my chest, I catch Leo watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. It’s a
look I’ve seen before – not just from him, but from Ethan too. That same mix of longing and restraint, of things left
unsaid.
“We’ll always be friends, right?” I hear myself ask, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. Maybe it’s the
moonlight, or the lingering scent of those silver flowers, but something about this moment feels fragile, balanced on the
edge of change.
Leo looks down, a bitter smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The silence stretches between us, heavy with six years
of history and carefully maintained boundaries. When he finally looks up, his usual warmth has returned, though
something deeper lurks in his eyes.
“Yeah,” he says softly, “friends.”