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The first time I met Sylvie, she was twelve, and I was fourteen. She was exploring the woods between her grandmother’s house and the Werth pack house all on her own. She was wearing a pair of ragged jean shorts, a black tank top with brown buttons tucked into the waistband and a pair of worn black chucks that had little holes along the soles. Her wavy brown hair hung in a messy high ponytail and she had on no makeup. Which makes sense because she was only twelve. Her freckles were on full display and a pink sunburn kissed her cheeks, the tip of her nose and her bare shoulders. She was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen in all my fourteen years.
I wanted to wrap her up and steal her away, keep her all to myself. At least for a while. Even back then, I knew I wouldn’t be an alpha. I knew I was a beta through and through. And I knew as soon as Vee met the rest of the members of my pack, I would have to share her. They would like her as much as I did, want to keep her forever.
Don’t get me wrong, that was the overall goal, but I just wanted some time with just the two of us, for her to get to know me without the overpowering energies of the other members of my future pack.
So I kept her a secret. For an entire week, I met Vee in the woods when I should have been running, training for the cross-country team. We ambled through the trees, laughed and got to know each other without Davis’s flirting or Asher’s quiet, watchful eyes. Without Jackson’s dominant presence and Ford’s scowls.
For one glorious week, I had her all to myself.
And then Davis got suspicious when he caught me buying the unicorn donut from Bonheur and followed me into the woods. Suddenly she wasn’t just mine anymore, she was ours. All of ours.
I realized quickly it was better having all of us to take care of her, to make sure she was safe and happy. I could have done it, would have given everything to her if it ended up just being me that wanted her, but I am so fucking grateful that my pack wanted her too.
I often think about the days leading up to when we lost her. About how I should have stood up to Jackson, told him we weren’t going through with his plan. I think about what would have been different if I’d pulled Vee into the woods where we first met and just told her everything. I regret it every fucking day that I didn’t.
But never so much as I do in this moment, staring down at my phone as text after text comes through from Vee. At first I was confused, thinking she was texting all of this to me—to us—in real time. Her first text of:
Vee:
Why?
Why would you do this to me?
Had me scrambling to figure out what we did. I know the article came out today. But I didn’t think she would be angry about it. But then other texts followed.
Vee:
I didn’t get out of bed today. Couldn’t.
It hurts too much.
Vee:
I keep seeing you up on that stage with her.
She looked perfect, and you all looked so happy…
Vee:
Why wasn’t I enough?
Vee:
I hate you.
I hate all of you so fucking much.
Every fucking text is like a knife to my gut, a window into the pain that our girl was going through, pain that we caused. I can’t fucking breathe. My chest is too tight as I watch the progression she went through. The pain, the rage, the hate, and finally the acceptance, the moving on.
Vee:
I only thought about you every other minute today.
Progress.
Vee:
The twins were born this morning.
