Right now, it enrages me.
“Do you have any idea what you stole from me?” I ask, tone riddled with disbelief and pain. “Years, Lila. Years full of firsts—all gone.”
“I know,” she murmurs, almost folding in on herself from the guilt. “I’m sorry… but you weren’t—”
“I wasn’t what? Worthy? Ready?”
“You weren’t safe,” she manages just above a whisper as her chin wobbles. “You were cruel to me. You were so dismissive and cold. You treated me like I didn’t matter, and I knew I had to tell you at some point, but it felt so impossible.”
Every correct claim hits me one after the other, but it still isn’t enough.
“I was. I treated you like shit, and I regret it more than anything. But you didn’t give me the chance to grow up,and to realise whatever existed between us was real,” I return, clenching my hands tightly. “You robbed me of her… and you robbed Astrid of a father just because you couldn’t stomach telling me.”
Her breath wavers as she tries to keep herself together. “Caleb—”
“I’ve been fighting my instincts for weeks, wondering why I felt so connected to her. Why it felt so right to protect her, and why I looked at that little girl and saw something so familiar but couldn’t explain it,” I mutter, feeling more broken the more I let it out.
Lila’s face crumples from the weight of it. “I know.”
“And you let me doubt myself. You let me think I was imagining things when you could’ve told me from the day I found you again.”
She glances away. “You never asked.”
“Because I trusted you to tell me the truth!” I throw back at her, body tight with rage and disappointment. “I believed you’d tell me something this important, regardless of where we stood.”
When Lila goes silent, withdrawing all over again, I clench my jaw, unable to get a grip on my thoughts.
“I can hardly look at you right now…”
The words escape me before I can soften them, or before I can figure out if I even want to voice them.
Pain floods our bond, and every second of it hurts. It’s raw and completely unfiltered, but I force myself to stand in it. To feel it feeding between both of us.
After a long moment, Lila goes to say something, but the words die on her tongue before she can get them out. The tears slip from her eyes and race down her cheeks, and as much as I want to brush them away and to tell her everything will be fine, I don’t move. I can’t.
“I’m sorry,” she manages, far too soft, but also too late.
My heart lurches in response, but any sort of apology doesn’t come to me. Not yet.
“I think it would be best if you stayed in the spare room.”
The words come out cold enough to make her freeze on the spot, and her brows pinch together. “Are you serious?”
“Very,” I mumble, looking away to avoid crumbling under the devastation in her eyes. “Please, just go.”
I feel her gaze on me as her breath catches on a sob that she tries to swallow back. She hesitates just long enough for another wave of empathy to hit me, wanting to take it all back and comfort her.
But I feel wounded in ways I’ve never been before. I’m not ready for amends yet.
Eventually, Lila pulls together what’s left of her pride, then walks down the hallway with unsteady and defeated steps.
I stay right where I am for far too long, finding the silence unbearable.
As that ache in my chest gets worse, Astrid’s face flashes in my mind. Of her at the solstice earlier, showing me that carved wolf like it was her newest prized possession. How she ran and had fun with the kids, then clung to Lila and me. I picture her sitting at the kitchen table, happily eating whatever breakfast I’ve put in front of her, quietly sharing her every thought with me.
The fury cycles into grief, then back into fury, hitting me again like painful tides inside me.
I’ve never felt so gutted before, let alone so angry and robbed of something so pure.
