But I could also tell that he liked it.

I climbed out of the SUV, let the wolf out, and grabbed our stuff before hitting the lock button. The weather was still a little chilly, and I zipped up my hoodie as I plodded onto the trail. The wolf zipped off into the trees, tearing back and forth through the woods, but not straying too far from the trail. Even though our bond told him I was fine, he still wanted to keep me in sight. I understood why a heck of a lot more now. If I was in sight, he could get to me in time.

He could keep me safe.

When you grow up without something, you tend to overcompensate for the lack as you get older. Grow up poor? You tried to surround yourself with money. Grow up hungry? Become a chef. Grow up in an unstable environment? You want safety and stability. Family, a pack, would mean everything to Declan.

I thought back to our earlier fight—the mac and cheese night where everything had gone so badly so quickly. It made so much sense now. Trick and I had been out of sight, out of touch, even by phone. Late, not responding—his pack out of reach. His protective instinct must have been screaming at him. What an absolute nightmare for my wolf.

My heart lifted as I watched him tear through the woods. I could feel his joy at being outside, the scent of the forest in his nose, the dirt under his paws. It fed my own joy, so that by the time we got down to the beach, I was grinning from ear to ear. The wolf felt lighter now, and though he wasn’t completely unburdened by showing me the painful memories, the load had been lessened. I carried part of it for him and that made a difference.

I stepped off the trail onto a short wooden bridge that took me over a swath of marsh grass, then down a few steps to the beach. The water was dazzling today, kicking up sunshine, looking blue-green in the light. In about ten minutes it would probably look gray as clouds moved in. Such was the weather in the Pacific Northwest. But I was wearing layers, we had blankets, and though a sharp breeze was coming off the water, it was still nice to be outside.

I found us a good spot up against a large log—it was basically an entire tree trunk—that was holding back a pile of driftwood. I stretched our blanket out, anchoring it with our bag of food and a few large rocks. It wasn’t too windy yet, but I wanted to be careful. Declan was running down the beach, stopping occasionally to smell something or chase a seagull. I could see a few people walking further down the shoreline, but there weren’t a lot of people out. It was midweek, school was in session, and spring weather in Western Washington was always shaky. In the summer, it would be packed, especially any of the areas that had sand.