“Good,” I lie.
The truth is more complicated. The truth is that seeing Bryan’s face sent a jolt through my entire body. The mate bond I’ve spent a decade suffocating suddenly gasped back to life like a drowning victim breaking the surface. Walking away from him took every ounce of willpower I possessed, and I spent the entire walk back to the medical center with my hands shaking and my wolf howling in protest.
But Fern doesn’t need to know that. Nobody needs to know that. Some wounds are meant to be carried alone.
“The lottery is tonight,” Fern reminds me, changing the subject with merciful grace. “Are you going?”
“Mandatory attendance.” I try for a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Connor’s excited. He keeps talking about how romantic it was when our names were drawn together.” She rolls her eyes, but there’s affection underneath the exasperation. “As if I didn’t spend the first few weeks trying to run away from him. Literally.”
“You came around eventually.”
“I did.” Her hand moves over her belly in a slow, protective circle unconsciously. “Sometimes the lottery knows what it’s doing, even when we don’t want to admit it. The magic sees things we can’t.”
“Sometimes,” I agree, though I’m not really listening anymore.
My mind has drifted back to Bryan. To the way he looked standing in the square—older, harder, with new scars I don’t recognize. The boy I fell in love with had an easy smile and a quick laugh. The man I saw today looked like he’d forgotten how to do either.
His shoulders are broader now, I noticed, and his frame is packed with muscle. The stubble on his face was too long, like he’d stopped caring about appearances somewhere along the way. He looked rough. Dangerous. Like a man who’s seen things he can’t unsee and done things he can’t undo.
I hate that I noticed. I hate that some part of me still drank in every detail of his appearance and responded to his presence like a compass finding north. Ten years of nothing, and my wolf still recognizes him instantly as ours.
It should have been enough time to kill whatever we had. It should have been enough time to move on, to build something new with someone else, and to forget the way he used to look at me like I was the only person in the world who mattered.
Apparently, my wolf didn’t get the memo.
“I should get back to work,” I say abruptly, reaching for the patient file I’ve been pretending to read. “I’ve got five more appointments before the lottery.”
Fern takes the hint and pushes herself up from the chair with some effort. Connor fusses over her constantly these days. He’s so worried about her climbing stairs or lifting anything heavier than a coffee cup. It drives her crazy, but I’ve caught her smiling when she thinks no one is looking.
“If you need to talk, you know where to find me,” she offers.
“I know. Thanks, Fern.”
She pauses in the doorway. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re handling this better than I would. If Connor disappeared for ten years and then just showed up again out of nowhere, I’d probably throw something at his head.”
Despite everything, I let out a giggle. “The night is young.”
The rest of the afternoon passes in a fog. I see my patients, take notes, offer treatment recommendations, and do all the things I’m supposed to do. My hands know the work even when my mind is elsewhere, and I lean into that muscle memory like a crutch.
But between appointments, in those quiet moments when no one needs me, my thoughts keep slipping away. Replaying moments I’ve tried so hard to forget. Picking at scabs I thought had long since healed.
Like the time he showed up at my door with a stack of old paperbacks because I mentioned wanting something new to read, and he spent his entire patrol thinking about which ones I might like. Or dancing with him at the winter solstice bonfire while pretending we were just friends, even though his hand on my waist burned through layers of clothing. The way he’d mouth the words to my favorite songs when he thought I wasn’t watching because he was too embarrassed to actually sing out loud, but memorizing every lyric anyway.
I shake my head, forcing myself back to the present. That was ten years ago. I’m not that girl anymore. I’ve built a life here, a career, and friendships that sustain me. I’m the senior healer at Silvercreek’s medical center, and I’ve worked hard for that position. People respect me. People need me.
I don’t need Bryan Dinac. I never did.
By the time evening rolls around, I’ve almost convinced myself I believe it.
The Hollow is packed when I arrive. Torches line the perimeter, scattering light across the gathered crowd. The Mother Tree stands at the center, reaching toward the darkening sky. Spanish moss hangs from the lower limbs, swaying gently in the evening breeze.
I find a spot near Ruby and James and nod a greeting, but I don’t trust myself to speak. My nerves are too exposed with my wolf so close to the surface. One wrong word and I might shatter the composure I’ve been maintaining all day.
Ruby gives me a concerned look but doesn’t comment. She’s good like that. She and James have their hands linked together, and it makes me think of their lottery and the chaos and drama that surrounded it. They came out the other side stronger than ever, just like Fern and Connor.
The ceremony begins with Elder Amelia taking her place in front of us all. She’s taken over since Victoria’s death a few years back, and while she lacks Victoria’s commanding presence, there’s a quiet strength about her that demands respect.
