If I marked another wolf who was not Jay, we’d always know. The bond with a chosen mate would solidify, but the attachment to my fated would always be there. It’d just appear as grief, like the loss of a loved one, or in this case, what could have been. And my wolf and I would share this pain at the same time every year.
I wouldn’t want my chosen mate touching me or anywhere near me. Even worse, I worry that my chosen mate, who will have done nothing wrong, will perceive that distance. And that wouldn’t be fair to her.
That’s what makes a witch the perfect choice. The only one who hurts in the end is me.
“What about your mate?” She rejects the idea. “No. I won’t give you my blessing for this. We will wait for her.Sheis the one who should be leading beside you.”
“You heard them. We are losing the upper hand the more time passes. And youcan’twait.”
“You are not to mate a witch, and that’s final. Further, what is this I hear about the pack losing all its resources? Honestly, Caleb. I thought I could trust you to handle everything...”
Are you kidding me?
“You haven’t been around, and now you’re lecturing me on who I should and shouldn’t mate? I have been running this pack without you for months. I begged you for help, but as soon as I make a decision you don’t agree with, you’re suddenly all in?”
“How dare you throw it in my face that I haven’t been there for my pack. I am grieving.”
“So am I! But you don’t see me laying in bed.”
“You don’t know what it’s like. You didn’t lose your mate.”
I scoff in disbelief. “I lost my father!”
She folds her cardigan over and crosses her arms, turning her head away. But I’m not letting her shy away this time. I round the table to position myself in her line of sight. I will make sure she sees me.
“The day I lost him, I lost you, too. You have no idea what that’s like.”
“Pfft, don’t be so dramatic. You didn’t lose me.”
“I am. More every day. Ever since he’s been gone, you sleep most of the day and cry the rest of it. I practically never see you. You haven’t gone to church once. Mom, you forgot my birthday.”
She shifts her gaze to her feet, rocking in place on her heels.
“Please, Mom. Look at me. Please,” I beg.
She hesitates, but when she does finally look at me, her eyes soften. Her grown boy, fragile like the baby she remembers me to be.
“I need you, Mom.”
She rushes to embrace me and strokes the back of my hair down to my neck. “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so sorry. I’m here. I promise I’ll be better. Okay?”
I’m not even bothered that she’s soothing me like a child. It doesn’t bother me that she has decided after all this time to finally be a leader again. I’m just thankful for some normalcy—of evidence of a spark left in her. She is still in there. My mother isn’t lost. She’s right here. Pissed as hell at me but alive. And I want to know what brought her back.
“Help me upstairs?”
I don’t argue. I help her.
She struggles to walk as our argument took a lot of energy out of her but holds up better.
I’m getting my mother back.
“Thank you for coming,” I say once we approach her room.
“Well, I wasn’t going to. But Jay practically made me.”
“Jay did?”
Why would she do this for me?
