Where is this coming from?
He was so adamant before that I didn't need to work at the center, and now he wants me to do just that…
My heart cracks in my chest, the sound rippling through my ears because I'm the only one who hears it,feelsit, as realization dawns on me.
This is no coincidence.
The mask dropped, and Tyler reprised his role as the heartless villain whose only mission is to break me. Blinking athim as a plethora of mixed emotions rushes through me, my heart shatters, and I'm back at square one.
I was wrong. I could totally regret what happened last night if this is the result—waking up to Tyler's distinct coldness and feeling my heart sinking and slowly turning as hard as stone, like it's been for the past four years.
Memories of the way he rejected me in the past come crashing back as he casually strolls out of the kitchen, only exchanging a fist bump with Noah on his way out.
He might not have said a word, but his behavior says enough to let me know that he's been pretending all along. He got what he wanted, and now he's rejecting me again.
I'm only pulled out of the maze of regret when Noah calls out to me, his voice a faint sound until I'm snapped out of my daze.
I pull myself together only for his sake, the way I have been doing since even before he was born.
“Yes, Noah?”
“Sleep,” he yawns, and I nod slowly, zombified as I make my way toward him, lift him off the chair, and carry him to his bedroom.
My body becomes numb as I glance at Tyler's closed bedroom door. I've just been pushed out because of his inability to accept me as his mate, and now I have to live with the regret of ever letting my walls down in the first place.
I tuck Noah into bed, absentmindedly planting a kiss on his forehead and offering him a forced smile before dragging leaded feet toward the guest bedroom across the hall.
My broken heart sinks me to the floor the second I close the door behind me and feel the heavy weight of loneliness settle on my shoulders.
I worked hard to toughen up against the rejection I faced in the past, becoming strong when I built up the walls of defense around my heart. In the blink of an eye, I'd become vulnerable and susceptible to heartbreak again, and that's why tears spill out, and I drop my head into my hands, sobbing with regret.
I should have known that Tyler couldn't be trusted! He already broke my heart once before; he has no remorse about doing it again.
I can't believe I allowed him to break my heart again!
Sobbing quietly so that neither he nor Noah hears me, I sniff and wipe at my tears, failing to rebuild my walls so soon. It's going to take time, so it's probably a good thing he's suggested I work at the center.
When I finally find the courage to lift my face, I spot the corner of the blue box peeking out from underneath the bed, frowning as I stare at it.
I'm pulled toward it as if an unspoken question has been answered, reminding me that it was my inner wolf who nudged me back to Portland. It was also my inner wolf who led me toward finding that box in my old home, and there's no coincidence about any of it.
I wipe my nose and sniff as I crawl forward, pulling the box out and placing it on my lap. If Tyler doesn't want me, it's not the end of the world. There's a purpose to all the pieces of this puzzle, and I strongly believe that another piece lies in this box. I just know it, letting my intuition lead me as I lift the dusty lid to find a smaller jewelry box and a leather-bound journal inside.
Picking out the jewelry box, I crack open the lid to find a bright, polished gold necklace inside. I lift the chain, inspecting the sigil on the pendant. Though I've never seen anything like it before, my heart pounds with recognition, as if I know what it's supposed to symbolize.
Frowning, I drop the pendant into my palm when a quick pulse rushes through my arm like an electric shock. I gasp when I feel connected to the piece of jewelry, motivated to keep searching for answers. Clutching the necklace in a loose fist, I take out the journal and touch the sigil embossed into the leather cover.
The initials ‘A.B’ are pressed in, and I frown.
Controlling my breathing as my heart pounds from excitement and anticipation about seeing into someone’s thoughts other than mine in their current state, I turn the cover, opening to the first page.
The words “Golden Tree Sisters” are inked neatly in the middle, and my eyes flit to the necklace in my hand, the pendant dangling in front of my face, when I realize the intricate details of the sigil form roots of a tree.
The golden tree? What is that?
Was the owner of this journal part of a cult? I've never heard of the Golden Tree Sisters before, and have no idea what it means until I turn the next page, and gasp.
What I'm holding is no ordinary journal that maps out someone's daily routine.
