Chapter 2
For years, I accepted Ethan’s version of Megan Ashford, the carefree tomboy he insisted she was, until my wolf began questioning how well I truly knew her.
She could throw an arm around him, steal from his plate, sit inches away, or call anytime without caring how it looked.
Ethan insisted none of it meant anything, that Megan was simply comfortable with him, like a sister.
But the woman I saw at the restaurant was different, moving with a deliberate softness my wolf couldn't ignore.
After five years of marriage, I wondered if her carefree tomboy persona had always been a mask that let her cross boundaries while making everything seem innocent.
Whenever I objected, Ethan had an excuse, and I became the jealous wife who misunderstood their friendship.
That afternoon, I took a half-day from pack work and went shopping to clear my head.
After passing several stores, I stopped for coffee and froze when I spotted Megan by the café window. She looked so different I almost didn't recognize her.
She wore a daring floral dress that hugged her curves, with a short hem and low neckline, making her look soft, pretty, and feminine instead of the jeans and oversized shirts she wore around Ethan.
Her short hair was neatly styled around her face, making her look nothing like the tomboy I knew.
But it wasn't her appearance that stopped me. It was the unfamiliar man across from her, leaning closer as they spoke with the ease of people who had been enjoying each other's company for some time.
Megan smiled, laughed softly, rested her chin in her hand, and toyed with her hair, making her flirting obvious.
The same woman who clung to Ethan and insisted it meant nothing was now acting sweet and feminine with another man.
I moved closer to the window, my wolf fully awake as Megan leaned toward him.
“I really can't drink that much,” she said, her voice soft and sugary-sweet. “Will you help me, pretty please?”
The man laughed.
“Only if you promise not to blame me tomorrow.”
Megan smiled.
“I might.”
She gave him a playful look, and my chest tightened as I realized she wasn't the carefree friend Ethan treated like one of the boys, but a woman who knew how to make a man feel chosen.
Suddenly, memories of Megan touching Ethan, leaning against him, and acting innocent whenever I questioned her came rushing back.
Maybe that innocence was never real. Around Ethan, she was the harmless tomboy. Around other men, she became sweet and flirtatious, and when I challenged her, she became the wounded friend.
I headed home and wasn't surprised to find Ethan there, but my chest tightened when I remembered waking alone the night before, his side of the bed cold and empty.
“You're home early,” he said without even looking at me.
“I took a half-day.”
He nodded.
“Everything okay?”
I hesitated.
“I saw Megan today.”
His expression changed slightly. The moment I mentioned Megan’s name, Ethan finally looked at me, and even my wolf noticed how quickly his attention sharpened.
“What about her?” he asked, trying to hide his curiosity, but my wolf caught the sudden change in his scent before he could mask it.
“She was at the mall.”
Ethan barely looked up.
“All right. Why are you telling me?”
“She was with a man.”
His brows drew together.
“What kind of man?”
“I don't know. Someone I had never seen before, but that wasn't what caught my attention.”
“Then what did?”
“She was wearing a dress,” I said, my voice tightening. “Not the kind of clothes she usually wears when she's around you.”
Ethan blinked, finally giving me his full attention.
“She was wearing a dress?”
“Yes, and she looked completely different.”
His expression remained guarded.
“Claire, what are you trying to say?”
“I saw her flirting with him.”
His jaw tightened.
“Claire, you're reading too much into what you saw.”
“I know what I saw, Ethan,” I said quietly. “I was standing right there.”
“I know, but you're making something out of nothing again.”
Something inside me sank.
“I’m not.”
“She was probably just having coffee with a friend.”
“She wasn't acting like your tomboy friend.”
His jaw tightened.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means she was different.” I stepped closer.
“She was acting sweet. Flirty. Feminine. She was touching her hair and speaking to him differently.”
Ethan sighed.
“So?”
“So how can you keep telling me she's just a tomboy when she clearly knows how to act differently when she wants to?”
He stared at me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he shook his head.
“You're looking for something that isn't there.”
My chest tightened.
“I saw it with my own eyes.”
“You're letting your jealousy control you.”
Jealousy…
There it was again, that word they always used to dismiss the warnings of my wolf and make me question whether the ache in my chest was instinct or jealousy.
“I’m your wife,” I whispered. “I'm allowed to feel uncomfortable when another woman behaves intimately with you.”
“Megan isn't trying to do anything.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know her better than you do.”
After five years of marriage, his words hurt more than they should have, especially when I saw annoyance instead of understanding in the eyes of the man I loved.
“She’s my oldest friend, Claire. You need to stop turning everything into a problem.”
My wolf growled softly.
I swallowed the hurt. The worst part wasn't Ethan defending Megan, but making me doubt my instincts and feel foolish for seeing what had been there all along.
In that moment, I wondered how many times he'd made me doubt myself simply because believing him was easier than facing the truth.