“Leslie, no.”
“Never, in all my years, have I threatened this, so I hope you understand how deadly serious I am. There is nobody to blame for what happened to me, Richard. Your son is not to blame. The healer is not to blame. Even you, for choosing a wife outside of the magickal bloodline, are not to blame. There is no blame when accidents happen. I know you hated seeing me like this, but bloody hell,Richard. I’ve led, and continue to lead, a beautiful life. How could you begrudge me the use of my legs when it’s never really slowed me down? I’m happy. And I love my life. It’s you who always seeks revenge, not me. And revenge for what? The healer didn’t know what was wrong with me. She’d already gone by the time paralysis had set in. Maybe if she’d been there she might have been able to help. Nobody knows. But what I do know is that our son, our smart, handsome, strong boy has grown into a man who has fallen in love with a healer. And her life hangs in the balance because you were blinded by your own unfounded beliefs. Never have I been more ashamed of you.”
My father flinched next to me, and I did the same, even though her wrath was not directed at me.
“And you should be ashamed of yourself. A Wulver’s job is to protect, not harm. You have a responsibility to the poor lass, Richard. Now, I’m going to find this nice Sophie, and see if she can tell me more about what’s going on. I’m so angry that I can’t even be in here right now. But I’m glad you’re on the mend, Luch. As soon as you can, go to your woman. Love is an incredible gift. It can heal most wounds. And even make you forgive seemingly impossible hurts.”
“Leslie …” My father’s voice was ragged, and I turned, surprised to see such intense pain on his face.
“Not now, Richard. I can’t.” Mum wheeled herself out, and my father hung his head.
Silence filled the room.
This was such an unusual side of my father—one where he was properly hurting from his own actions—and I had no clue how to proceed or even what to say. I was so used to his Alpha commanding presence, that seeing him like this—a downcastman—shook me to my core. Finally, my father sighed, shook his head, and looked up at me.
“She’s right, you know. Always is, your mother. Good head on her shoulders. Love is a gift, and if this Faelan’s the one for you, then I’m sorry I tried to get in the way. I was blinded by my own shite. Your mother has the right of it. I’m sorry, Luch.”
It felt like that boulder dropped back on my chest. Never in all my years had my father admitted he was wrong to me. It made me look at him in a different light.
Taking in a deep breath, I reached out and squeezed his hand.
“It seems we all do stupid things sometimes. Me included.”
“What did you do that was dumb?” My father looked to me.
“I let Faelan walk away.”
“Och, even I know better than that. Never let the right one walk away. Or in your mother’s case, wheel away.” My father checked the watch on his wrist. “And in fifteen minutes, I’m going after the love of my life. I hope you’ll do the same. Is there anything I can help with?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“We’ll stay on. Just in case.”
“Thanks … I appreciate that.”
We sat back in silence, our eyes on the clock, two vastly different men with fearful and contrite hearts. My father’s shocked me. To have changed his position so…genuinely?
“Love is a gift, and if this Faelan’s the one for you, then I’m sorry I tried to get in the way.”
To have recanted every vile word he’d said…
But in that moment, as much as I wanted to process his words and consider what they meant for my future, all I could concentrate on was the need to get to my woman. The woman who so sacrificially healed me, despite the consequences. The woman I loved more than life itself.
I needed her to know what she meant to me, maybe had meant to me from the moment I’d laid eyes on her, and had not had the guts to tell her yet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Faelan
“The prettiest of all flowers, my sweet Faelan.”
“Mum!” I ran across the field to where Eriska stood, her loose dress blowing in the wind. It was a sunny day, rare for Scotland this far into autumn, and my mum’s arms were filled with wildflowers.
She was just as I remembered her, a sunshine smile, friendly eyes, but now with hair going slightly gray rioting around her head.
It was then that I understood I must be dreaming.
My mother never aged in my memories.
