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The lights were dark, unsurprising for the hour. But the back patio was lit up with those Edison bulbs people are so fond of stringing outside. And there, curled up on a lounge with a pile of blankets, was Sylvie, our girl, out cold. So pretty, even in sleep with her mouth open slightly and strands of hair over her face, that my heart ached. Actually fucking ached in my chest. My fingers twitched with the need to smooth that wavy hair behind her ear, to touch the glimmering gold at her nostril, to see if her skin is as soft as I remember it being.
It took everything in me to not climb up on that lounger with her and wrap her in my arms, cuddle in her into my chest. I bet she’ll fit there perfectly, just like before. But I know she wouldn’t welcome my embrace, and I sure as shit will not force it on her if she’s not ready for it. So I stayed where I was, hidden in the trees, watching her sleep.
And it made the alpha in me feel so much fucking better just laying eyes on my mate, knowing she’s alive and well after years of not knowing.
I probably shouldn’t have stayed for as long as I did, watching over her until she woke up squinting at the blue sky like she had no fucking clue what it was. Maybe she didn’t fall asleep outside on purpose. Maybe she was expecting to see the ceiling she normally sleeps under. I’d give anything to know what that ceiling looks like, too.
Maybe someday soon, she’ll show me.
I stood there like a fucking creeper while she yawned and stretched, pushing her tits up, her lush little body on display for me even though she didn’t know it. Yeah, I definitely shouldn’t have stayed, as long as I did, watching and she patted her hair back, and glaring around like everything in the backyard pissed her off… or broke her heart.
I stayed rooted in place until she disappeared inside, and even then I wanted to stay longer, watch the house until she left, trail after her to make sure we don’t fucking lose her again.
But I couldn’t. I have things to do today. We all do. A list of tasks to figure out why Vee is here, how long she’s staying and, more importantly, ways to get her to stay longer.
Seeing her in her grandmother’s backyard, like no time had passed, was a fucking trip. But one I am so grateful for. When she went in the house, I still stayed for a few more minutes, an addict hoping for just one more hit, but she didn’t show. So I dragged my feet back to my empty pack house and got to work.
As soon as the front door opens, a waft of Davis’s French toast scent wraps around me. “Sylvie’s in town because of her grandmother,” I call out, not looking up from my computer, where I’m just finalizing my part of our plan.
Davis presses a kiss to my shoulder and then slides a brown bakery box onto the table next to me, with the logo for Bonheur stamped on the top. “I gathered that,” he comments, leaning into my side and kissing my cheek. “When I ran into her at the coffee shop.”
I whip my head toward him. “You saw her? Talked to her?”
He grins, but I notice the tightness at the corners, the way it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I did. Though she tried still maintaining that she doesn’t know us and that she’s not our Vee. But it was definitely her.” He leans down and kisses me, a smile still on his lips. “Where did you go so early this morning?”
“You know where I went,” I grumble against his mouth.
He kisses me again, then nudges the box toward me. “Got you a pastry.”
“I figured.” I frown at my laptop screen instead of reaching for the treat. “She was sleeping outside. In the backyard.”
Davis turns and rests his ass against the table, hands gripping the edge as he looks down at me. “Maybe she just accidentally fell asleep out there last night. She used to fall asleep anywhere and sleep through anything.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Then I click on a page on the screen and motion at it. “But I think we should give her some options, just in case the reason she was sleeping outside is she can’t stand the thought of being in that house.”
If I’m honest, I can’t stand the idea of her being in that house, either. It’s no secret that Sylvie’s grandmother was abusive toward her, both physically and emotionally. Gladys laid off a bit after Jackson presented as an alpha and threatened her if Vee didn’t stop showing up with bruises. But I know that Gladys Benson still beat down her granddaughter, just with words.
And we all let that happen, focused on the time we had with her, making sure she knew we loved her, wanted her, needed her. That she was—is—worthy of us. We focused on the future, on how we’d make all of that up to her, rather than on keeping it from happening at all.
Then the announcement came, and we lost the chance to make it right.
She’s been living with Gladys’s voice in her head for seven years and we weren’t there to counter it. God, I fucking hope she had someone to help her. Not a pack, obviously. Vee is ours. My angel. She belongs with us, and no one else. But she must have friends, right? People who helped her, took care of her when we couldn’t.
My heart aches at the thought that maybe she didn’t. Maybe she was alone this entire time. I’m not sure how I’m—how we’re—going to make that right. If she spent seven years alone, courting her with normal gifts won’t work. Vee never really wanted stuff, anyway. It’s going to be all about actions, proving to her we aren’t going anywhere.
It seems an impossible task.
But we’re up for the challenge.
Davis leans over my shoulder and looks at the posting I’ve pulled up. His eyes scan the page and then he nods. “I’m on it.” He leaves the kitchen, cell phone already pressed to his ear as I send a few more messages, wrapping up my part of the plan.
When that’s done and I’ve received all the responses I want, thank god, I stand and stretch before heading to find Davis. He’s in the office, brown hair sweeping over his brow as he nods at whatever is being said on the other side of the line. Then he blows out a breath, a grin lighting up his face. “Okay, great, thank you.”
He smirks up at me as he hangs up. “Done and done.”
I arch a brow. “Just like that?”
He shrugs. “You know money is a hell of a motivator and I have a shitload of it. It’ll be ready by tomorrow.”
