If there was one thing she knew, someone who was hurting shouldn’t be alone, they should be surrounded by those that love them.
And Brice Andrews knew without a doubt that she was in love with Keena Bolden.
The silence had never bothered Keena before. She’d always welcomed it. For five years she’d sought it out. Silence didn’t ask questions. It didn’t look at her with pity and it didn’t remind her of everything she’d lost.
Silence had become her companion, but today, it felt unbearable.
Keena stood just inside the front door. Her hand still rested on the knob. She exhaled and shut the door, leaned back against it and closed her eyes. The cabin greeted her exactly as she had left it.
Quiet.
No music drifting through the house.
No scent of coffee or candles lingering in the air.
No warm laughter floating from the kitchen.
Her chest tightened.
Without warning, she heard Brice’s voice enter her mind. It had been about how she ate her grits.
“You’ve been eating plain grits your entire life? No cheese? Not even sugar? Just butter, salt and pepper?”
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips at the look of horror that had crossed Brice’s face. Her smile slowly faded because there was no Brice here with her.
That had only been from her memory from yesterday. Her wolf stirred restlessly beneath her skin. She too longed for Brice, but Keena was sure she had ruined any chances she may have had.
She shrugged out of her coat and draped it over the back of the chair near the door. Her boots followed, left neatly on the rug before she wandered farther into the cabin.
She’d always loved this place. The exposed beams. The stone fireplace. The wall of windows overlooking the forest.
After Lizzie had died, this cabin had become her sanctuary. Now it just felt lonely. She crossed the living room and stopped in front of the mantel. Only three framed photographs sat there.
Her parents.
Rue, her and several other enforcers after they’d completed advanced training.
And…Lizzie.
Keena reached for the last frame with careful fingers. The photograph had been taken during their second Christmas together. Neither of them had been looking at the camera. Lizzie was laughing. Her head was thrown back. Her dark curls bounced around her shoulders while she tried—and failed—to hang an ornament on the very top branch of her tree.
Keena remembered what happened immediately afterward.
She’d walked over and lifted Lizzie off the ground by her waist to assist. Lizzie had laughed so hard at how Keena had picked her up like a little kid that she had nearly dropped the ornament.
Keena’s thumb brushed lightly across the glass. She remembered the image. The day. Lizzie’s smile, but then she closed her eyes.
What had Lizzie’s laugh actually sounded like?
Keena frowned. She tried harder to remember and panic bloomed in her chest.
“No…” She squeezed the frame tight. “Come on. You remember.”
She tried again and failed. She could remember the words Lizzie used. The way she would wrinkle her nose when Keena teased her or the small of cinnamon whenever she baked cookies.
But the sound of her laughter…it was slipping away.
Five years.
