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“Thank you,” I say. “I know it’s selfish—”
“Be selfish,” Atticus says, rolling his eyes. “Little queen, I asked for this for you. That takes away the selfishness. If they have things that belong to you, I will get them back.”
“Thank you,” I say.
I swear, I’m not sure how to put into words how much I love this man.
I asked him to help Kennedy, and he did that without even hesitating, but he did it in his own ways to get justice for me.
No, not justice. Peace.
He’s slowly trying to heal me without even realising he’s doing it.
“Obviously, you know about the mating ceremony.”
“Why did you do that?” I ask.
“Because you were sad when Neve brought up the mating, and because of our mating, you can’t be there for the small, every day part of their lives. But for a big moment like this? I want you to have the opportunity to go if you want it. I’m not going to force it on you, that was never the plan, but if you want to go, I’ve made it so you can.”
I smile because that was exactly what I expected, and it just warms my heart.
“I’m not sure if I want to go,” I reveal.
“It’s a good thing you’ve got plenty of time to decide then,” Atticus replies. “It’s not for another month. They likely needed time to plan it.”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Planning a mating ceremony could be fun.” Atticus seems to take note of the wistful way I said that, and I don’t want him looking deeper. “Okay, so we’re tabling that one for now. Was there anything else you demanded?”
He laughs. “Not that affects you, little queen.”
I frown, and he sighs. “I’m doing exactly what you asked,” he says. “The other requirement was that he signs a lot of legal paperwork so that we”—he gestures between me and him before motioning a circle with his index finger—“are covered in case things go south. I’m not going to get into the ins and outs of that with you, mainly because a lot of it is contract law, and I don’t really understand it myself. The rest? Well, it’s pride business, and I don’t want to—”
“No, I’m sorry. I understand that,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you.”
“You didn’t,” Atticus says. He smirks at me before uttering something that makes me laugh. “I’ve been a fucking dickhead.”
“You’re not wrong.”
He smiles, and I bite my lip. “Okay, none of this is your problem to “handle”,” Atticus says, putting finger quotes around the word handle. “But I was feeling very overwhelmed on Wednesday. Yesterday, I find out about Cevon and his mate, I gave you the news that lead to you trying to hurt yourself, but who did you want? Orson. You wanted him to help you through it, and that makes me sound so pathetic and selfish. Because, of course, I just want you getting help. But for Orson to be the one you love the most?”
“No!” I say, gasping. I wave my arms in front of me in the shape of an x, and adamantly shake my head. “That wasn’t it at all!”
“So is it just because he’s a bear? Because that’s his nature to protect you and provide you a safe haven? Is it going back to the night of the gala where he did that for you?”
“Maybe a tiny little bit,” I say, tilting my head because I’ve never really considered that. “But it’s mostly because I thought he was the one I hurt most with what I did.”
Atticus seems surprised, and I give a one-armed shrug.
“When I tried to kill myself, I never fathomed that it wouldn’t work. I never expected my wolf to fight me or destroy my chance at death. I thought I would be dead, and then, I wouldn’t have to deal with any of the repercussions of my actions. But then, when I came around, and my wolf caused me to shift, and I got to see how hurt you all were… when we went into the living room, and I realised I would have to talk about it? I couldn’t do it. My mind wasn’t in a good place—it’s still not in a good place.”
My voice sounds husky and full of tears, and I hate it. “But I understand that’s how it happens,” I say, sounding as pathetic as I feel. “I did the crime, so I’ve got to do the time, or however the stupid saying goes.”
“That’s pretty much it,” Atticus says. “Although, I’m not sure it’s relevant here.”
“I was terrified to face you all,” I say, and he frowns, not liking the sound of that. “I tried to end my life and destroy our bonds in the process. Do you think a healthy person would do that? A rational person?”
He laughs, but it’s a bitter sound.
“He told me about his sister, and how she suffered with postnatal depression, and how she took her own life. And I stood there, and I was like, yeah, don’t worry, I’m not going to do that. But I lied. Not in the moment because, in the moment, I had no intention of hurting myself… but then I did.”
