Now she only came when grief became too much. She tried to keep busy and keep her feelings pushed away, but some days were better than others. Today, she needed to talk to Lizzie.
She grabbed her gloves from the passenger seat and shoved them on before stepping out of the truck. Cold air wrapped around her at once. It was clearer here than in town. It smelled of snow, pine, and old stone. She shut the door softly as if she would wake the occupants of the cemetery. Snow crunched beneath her boots as she made her way along the path.
All around her was proof that the townsfolk remembered the dead. Wreaths leaned against headstones. A small lantern half buried by snow sat at the stop of one. Some graves had foil-wrappedpoinsettias sitting next to them. Someone had left a tiny ceramic angel near a child’s grave. Another headstone had been decorated for the holiday with battery powered lights that blinked faintly beneath the light covering of snow.
Keena’s chest tightened with each step.
Lizzie’s grave held no wreath. No flowers. No lights. Nothing but snow. Guilt rose inside of her. She swallowed hard and tucked her hands into her jacket pocket.
Lizzie had loved Christmas more than anyone she’d ever known. She had loved everything about it. The music, the lights, the cookies, the ugly sweaters and the rom-com movies that had terrible predictable endings. She had been the kind of woman who dragged out the decorations before Thanksgiving dinner was eaten.
Keena had complained every year, but each year she’d help carry the boxes up from the basement and help Lizzie decorate.
Now she couldn’t even bring herself to place a wreath on her mate’s grave.
Shame made her steps slow. The moment she stopped in front of the familiar headstone, she lowered her head and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
The grave sat beneath a tall white pine tree near the back of the cemetery. In summer, the branches provided a cool shaded area. In the winter, it provided a magical area for one to rest. Keena had chosen the spot because Lizzie had always loved sitting underneath big sprawling trees.
Keena stared at the grave. Snow covered the top half of the head stone hiding Lizzie’s name. She crouched down and brushed away the snow until the name was legible.
Elizabeth “Lizzie” Monroe-Bolden. Beloved mate. Cherished Daughter. Faithful Friend.
Keena’s fingertips stilled over her name. Her mate. Her forever was gone. The grief didn’t hit like it used to. Not with the same force it had when she stood in this exact spot two months after the accident. Time had dulled the pain.
Keena sank down onto one knee in the snow.
“Hey, baby.” Her voice cracked slightly. She closed her eyes for a moment, hating the weakness inside of her. She always had to be strong, but in the moments where she was alone here, it overpowered her.
A faint breeze moved along through the pine branches. She closed her eyes and basked in the chill. The snow from the branches came loose andfell causing a dusting of snow to surround her. It was as if Lizzie’s spirit had heard her.
“I wasn’t going to come today,” she admitted. “I’m supposed to be on patrol today.”
Another faint breeze moved through the boughs and sent down another dusting of snow. It fell softly around her and covered her coat.
“Rue sent me to check on the new bookstore owner.” Keena barked a laugh and looked down at the ground. “You would have loved it.”
The words came easier and began to flow.
“It’s called Hearth and Story. It’s in the old Mercer building. They fixed it up nice. Looks completely different.” She stared at the headstone but truly didn’t see it as she became lost in the memory of when she’d first walked in the bookstore. “There’s a fireplace in the back with these big chairs. A Christmas tree that would give yours a run for its money and books everywhere. She even added a little coffee bar and the place smelled of sugar.”
Keena drew in a deep breath and her mouth trembled.
“You would have walked in there and lost your mind.” She closed her eyes as her vision became blurry. She could almost feel Lizzie’s hand in hers, dragging her into the store. She could even hear hersqueal of joy. Lizzie would have gone straight to the romance book section, grabbed a pile of books higher than she was tall, then headed over to the coffee bar and ordered one of her complicated coffee drinks that was too damn sweet. She would then steal a sip from Keena’s and complain about her black coffee wasn’t adventurous enough.
Keena’s chest seized at the fantasy.
“You would have claimed the chair closest to the fire before anyone else,” she continued. “You would have bought too many books just like you always did.”
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. The warm trail of wetness continued on down to her chin but she refused to wipe it away. She was angry that she was crying, and even angrier that even after five years she expected to turn and see Lizzie standing behind her.
Her wolf pressed gently against her now, no longer frantic. Her animal was making her presence known for support. She was mourning too. She’d lost Lizzie too.
Keena sat back on her heels and blew out a shaky breath.
“I met someone.”
