Helena's POV
Asher stands outside the hospital entrance, his golden hair falling into his eyes in a way that makes him look younger than his years. The strands have grown longer since our first meeting, creating shadows across his face. When he spots me approaching, color floods his cheeks and he fidgets with the back of his neck.
"I visited every single day," he says quietly.
"At this point, I think the hospital staff know me better than my own pack members," I attempt to lighten the mood, but my joke only makes his expression more troubled.
"My wolf gets restless when you're injured," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.
The genuine worry etched across his features catches me off guard. It has been so long since someone showed this kind of concern for my wellbeing. Since my father's death, I have grown accustomed to depending solely on myself. Having someone else's anxiety revolve around my safety feels foreign yet oddly comforting.
