The moment the words left her mouth, sheinstantly wished she could take them back. She didn’t know if she should be telling Lizzie this, but then again, back when she was here, they told each other everything.
“She’s human,” Keena said. “She’s new to town and she owns the bookstore. Her name is Brice.”
The wind moved again, stirring the wreaths on nearby graves. Keena paused and glanced away from Lizzie’s grave. She took in the surrounding area—she was the only one visiting. She turned back to Lizzie’s headstone and sighed.
“She smiled at me. That sounds stupid right? A woman smiled at me, then I ran away like I was being chased by the devil himself,” Keena barked another sarcastic laugh. She bowed her head. “But then she touched me. I mean, we shook hands. My wolf knew.”
She grew quiet as the memory came back. The feeling of Brice’s warm hand in hers, the jolt of electricity that had shot up her arm, the way her wolf had surged inside of her. It had been a long time since she’d felt her wolf react that way.
Silence surrounded her. The cemetery seemed too still. Even the snow falling around her slowed to a standstill. She breathed in the cold air and felt herlungs burn slightly. The tip of her nose was growing cold.
“I don’t understand how this can happen. You were my—are my mate.” She corrected herself immediately. Saying it in the past tense felt like a betrayal. It made it seem as if another part of Lizzie was slipping away from her. Keena leaned closer and rested her hand on the chilled stone. “They said that you didn’t feel anything. That everything had happened so fast that you were gone before you could even become scared.”
Her vision blurred again and this time the tears just fell.
“It still didn’t make me feel anything better. I’m sure they said that to be nice.”
The call had come late. Keena still remembered every second of it. She had been in the kitchen making a cup of coffee. She had just gotten home from her late shift and had been in the kitchen rinsing out her coffee mug. She had planned to make a cup of decaf to drink while she waited for Lizzie to come home. The house had smelled like cinnamon because Lizzie had baked cookies earlier that day before leaving for her work’s holiday party.
She’d glanced at the clock on the wall when she realized that Lizzie should have been home by then.
The phone rang.
A state trooper’s voice had come through the line. He had been kind and professional. There had been black ice on the road. Another driver lost control of their car and slammed into Lizzie’s. Hers went off the shoulder and collided with a tree. The impact alone caused her to perish instantly.
No pain.
No suffering.
For a long time, Keena couldn’t speak. The snow began falling again and gathered on her shoulders. The cold seeped through her jeans where her knees pressed onto the ground. Her fingers began to ache inside of her gloves from the cold.
Still she stayed.
“I don’t know what to do,” she confessed.
Her wolf stirred again. She stood and stretched and bumped her head against Keena’s chest.
Mate.
“No.” Keena squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.
Mate.
“She isn’t mine,” Keena whispered. The animal pressed harder, determined to make Keena agree with her. Keena’s hand curled into a fist. “My mate is righthere.”
She swallowed hard. The thought of Brice flashed again. Her warm smile, her soft hands and her pretty brown eyes. The little glint in her eyes when she’d asked if all enforcers were intimidating. The way she’d offered Keena a cookie as if she wanted her to stay just a moment longer.
Keena hated that she liked the sound of Brice’s laugh. She hated that she wondered how the woman took her coffee. She hated those traitorous feelings because she wanted to go back to Hearth and Story and apologize for being rude and a grouch.
Most of all, she hated that she felt as if she was betraying Lizzie.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered. Her wolf did not back down. It knew something that Keena refused to admit. Keena leaned down and pressed her forehead briefly to the headstone. The shock of the coldness grounded her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I don’t decorate. I’m sorry that I didn’t bring a wreath. I’m sorry that I miss you so damn much.”
Another tear slipped free. Keena pulled back and wiped her face with the back of her gloved hand.
“I have to go. Rue will have my head if I am not working,” she said. If she concentrated hardenough, she could almost hear the sound of Lizzie snorting.
