“I didn’t think I’d make it either,” he says softly. “Not until I heard your voice.”
My heart lurches.
“The moment you came flying in with your megaphone…”
His voice fractures, just slightly.
Warm tears sting behind my eyes, but it’s not grief or pain. It’s something brighter.
A year.
A lifetime.
One breath.
One miracle.
“We survived,” I whisper.
He leans in until his forehead rests against the side of my head, breath warm in my hair.
“No,” he murmurs. “We lived.”
And under my fingers, the Braille marker hums.
Pack’s Heart.
The place everything returns to.
One year since I charged into a wolf execution wearing yesterday’s jeans and emotional delusion.
One year since Beau became the greatest beta in existence.
And one year since Meemaw adopted an entire wolf pack like stray barn kittens.
And tonight, we celebrate.
“Violet!” Beau calls from somewhere near the herb beds. “Everything smells amazing! Also, I put up those lanterns like you asked! And then I added five more because ambiance!”
Fiona laughs, bright and melodic with a hint of mischief. “He means he added too many and tripped over one.”
“Details!” Beau yells back.
I smile so wide my cheeks hurt.
“I better go see what they’re up to.”
I grin. “You two are the best helpers.”
The air shifts behind me, warm, steady, familiar.
And then I feel it, a soft puff of breath against my cheek. A presence like lavender sachets and family. A hand smoothing my hair like I’m five and also somehow the commander of a small army.
Meemaw.
“Child,” she murmurs, voice rich with affection and judgment wrapped in one, “I leave you alone for five minutes and your backyard turns into a bloody fairytale rave.”
I laugh, startled and delighted.
