HEARTBLOOD - Paul Lahote

FOURTEEN

It took me longer than I'd like to admit to find Paul. He was at our usual spot on the beach, sitting on a log and staring out at the water, his posture tense. I stood there for a moment, watching him. He looked different—tired, like he was carrying a weight too heavy for one person.

"Paul," I called softly, stepping closer. He turned, surprise flickering across his face before it quickly shifted to a guarded expression. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, clearly not happy to see me.

"Nicolette," he muttered, his tone clipped. "Did they send you?"

"No one 'sent' me," I said, folding my arms. "They were worried about you. You've been shutting them out."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "They wouldn't get it."

"Then explain it to me," I challenged, my voice stronger than I felt. "Tell me why you've been acting like this, pushing everyone away. This isn't you, Paul."

He glanced at me, and for a moment, I thought I saw something raw in his eyes. But he quickly looked away, his expression hardening. "Why do you care? After everything I said... after the way I hurt you, why do you still care?"

The question caught me off guard, and I hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Because... because you're still Paul. You're still the person who's been there for me through everything, who stood by me even when things got hard."

He looked at me, pain and confusion etched into his features. "I don't deserve that, Nicolette. Not after what I said to you."

"Then why did you say it?" I demanded, my voice rising. "If you didn't mean it, why did you hurt me like that?"

Paul's face fell, his shoulders slumping as he ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, okay? I was angry, frustrated. I felt like you were slipping away, like you didn't need me anymore. And instead of talking to you, I lashed out. I was an idiot."

His admission softened something in me, and I stepped closer, feeling the tension between us ease just a little. "Paul, we all make mistakes. But shutting everyone out, pushing your friends away—that's not the answer."

He looked down, shame flickering across his face. "I know. I just... I didn't know how to fix it. I thought if I kept my distance, I wouldn't hurt anyone else."

I sighed, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "You don't have to do this alone. The pack is there for you, just like they've been there for me. And so am I. But you have to let us in."

He stared at me for a long moment, his gaze intense, searching. Finally, he nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I don't deserve you, you know that?"

I rolled my eyes, nudging him playfully. "Well, you're stuck with me anyway."

For the first time in what felt like ages, Paul laughed—a real, genuine laugh that lifted the weight from his shoulders.

It started with small things. At first, I hardly noticed the way Paul was trying to show up more in my life, or maybe I just didn't want to get my hopes up. Our fight had left scars—ones that weren't visible, but I felt them whenever he looked at me with that quiet intensity, his gaze softening like he was seeing me for the first time. I didn't know if I was ready to let him all the way back in, but I could tell he was trying, and that meant something.

Since I'd started speaking, the world felt different. For so long, my voice had been trapped inside, an unspoken part of me that even I'd come to believe I'd never use again. But after that moment with my dad, the dam had broken, and slowly, bit by bit, the words came easier. The people around me hadn't made a big deal of it. They seemed to accept it as naturally as if I'd been speaking all along, which was both comforting and strange.