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“David,” I correct, and he nods thoughtfully. I know he’s made a mental note of that, and I’m just hoping it’s not for nefarious purposes. “It was pretty much just saying if I wanted to talk, he’s willing to. He gave me his number, and, um, yeah, he just wishes me happiness regardless of what has happened in my life.”
They all kind of nod, and I smile, but it’s hard to be actually happy about this when I don’t know how I feel about it. I take a deep breath, knowing the next part is hard, but it needs to be shared.
“He said in the letter that… that he wishes me endless happiness in my mating like he hopes to have in his,” I say, looking at a spec of food on the table instead of at any of my mates. “That just seemed to be the final nail in the coffin for me.”
“Why did that seem to trigger you so much?” Griffin asks.
“Because that’s all I’ve ever wanted,” I snap. I think my attitude takes them by surprise. I take a deep breath and mumble an apology. It doesn’t seem very sincere for my outburst, but it’s really fucking hard. It sounds like Griffin is poking fun at me, and whilst I know that’s not true, it doesn’t curb the annoyance.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so touchy,” I say after getting myself in a bit more control.
“We understand,” Griffin says gently, and the lack of judgement in his tone makes it easy to focus on him. “And if you need to snap, then snap, Nora.”
“Okay. Look, I’ve spent the last six years battling with my wolf. Six whole years. Not once have I ever felt genuine happiness until I met you guys. Not once. And even then it’s still tainted with the darkness, tainted with how dark I am. And, yet, he just… oh, yeah, I’m so happy, I hope you’re happy too. Like, no,” I say, shaking my head as tears fill up my eyes. “Do you know how horrible it is to have your younger brother, the one who got to live a life with the pack, with wolves, with the fucking family that tossed me out, reach out this way? It felt like he was rubbing it in, in a way I couldn’t cope with in that moment.”
Orson gently pulls my hands into his, stopping me from scratching at my arms. There’s an itchiness within me, an urge from my wolf. She wants to shift, to protect me from the pain I’m suffering.
But I already tried to take the cowards way out tonight.
And then, when that first attempt failed, I tried again—when I tried to retreat into my mind.
No, it’s very clear that I need to face the music. I need to open up, and just deal with it.
I don’t get to keep running away because I’m uncomfortable.
“Then he said, I hope your mates are happy like I am.” I sigh, tugging my hands away from Orson, just to then pull at my hair. Orson lets out a huff, but doesn’t stop me. “Does anyone have the letter?”
Unsurprisingly, Atticus tugs it out of his pocket.
“Read it. Please.”
With no emotion in his tone, he reads aloud the letter from my brother, the same lines that hurt me only a few hours ago still feeling as raw and fresh as they did then.
The same lines, fucking hell.
I’m so glad to hear that you’ve found a new mate, that you’ve found a way to finally be happy after everything that happened here.
They hit me right in the gut.
“You heard him,” I say, almost accusingly, but they’re missing the big picture, and the confusion from them all only annoys me. “He talks about happiness as if I’ve already achieved it. And I don’t know if I’m ever going to truly be happy.”
I notice so much sadness in their eyes, the stench of it burning the nostril hair up my nose, and it makes me feel ill. Because that’s a terrible thing to tell your mates. Oh, wow, sorry, you’re not enough to make me happy.
“And that’s not fair to you guys. If I die, you’ll get a second chance. You’re amazing men. Perfect men. And you deserve that. Me? I’m nothing. I don’t deserve you. You don’t deserve me tearing you down. It’s not…” I bite my lip and look up at the ceiling, desperately trying not to break down.
This is me trying to be open and talk about how I’m feeling, and I’m just fucking it up. I always fuck it up.
“If you died,” Devoss says. His tone isn’t empty, more just matter of fact. I dart my eyes to his face, noting the serious look. Oh, shit. “If you died,” he repeats, “I’m not sure I’d get a second chance mate, Nora. I genuinely didn’t think I’d get a first chance mate with all the blood on my hands.”
I frown, and go to open my mouth, but he’s not done.
“If you died, the first thing I do is fight with this lot.”
“Whoa, what?” Micah demands. “What have I done?”
“Well, probably not with Micah,” Voss says, and Mal nods. The others seem to understand what he means, whereas Micah and I don’t. “If you die, I will fight with this lot over who gets the right to gut Kennedy Newitt.”
“He’d have to get in line,” Griffin and Orson snarl in identical tones. Mal smirks as if the idea of bloodshed just amuses him. But Atticus?
