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A single tear fell, and he swallowed.
“I fucking hate this place.”
“I know,” I whispered, leaning my head on his shoulder as the horses carried us along the path he’d once carried her as she died in his arms. “I know.”
For all the strength in those beasts’ legs, the minutes dragged on as we waited for the small village in the distance to draw near, Atlas fighting a silent battle against the power those memories held over him.
“Any idea where the log is?”
“No clue.”
When the horses finally stopped, I squeezed his hand. “Let me go. I can do this one.”
I couldn’t hold this morning against him, knowing how much he was hurting, but also confident this would all be ending soon, and maybe we both needed to be more careful. He still wasn’t ready for the word ‘commitment’, let alone the follow through. Though broken, he remained blind to his own plight.
“I’m stronger than I look.”
I forced a smile. “You look pretty strong from where I’m sitting.”
He smiled, pressing his forehead to mine, and my chest constricted. “You’re pretty great, you know?”
The words ‘stuck together’ echoed through my mind, but I had to give him space to feel, to push beyond the anger and hurt in his heart. That was the point of all of this. It wasn’t about me. Not really.
“You’re not too bad yourself, Wolf. Even when you’re sad.”
The small village didn’t balk at our arrival. We could have been two random Forest Coven witches passing through town as hardly anyone paid us any mind at all.
“A year ago, they would have tried to kill me. Ten years ago, they did. And now, just because I have markings, I’m allowed to stand here. Doesn’t seem right.”
“Because it’s not right, Atty. It wasn’t right then either.”
He stopped short the moment we came to the spot Laramie had fallen to the ground. “I’m grateful, you know. For the memories. No matter what kind of trouble I’m in now, or how marked or whatever it is you claim is wrong with me. I wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t lose a day with her for this lifetime of misery without her.”
“You?”
We turned to see a woman with white hair standing, cradling the Yule log in her arms. It took me a second to recognize her. But not Atlas. He shifted sideways, blocking me from the elder woman. Laramie’s mother. The one that had screamed her hatred so loud in his memories, they were likely part of the source of that mark on his heart.
I moved around Atlas, rushing to the woman to take the log before bad turned to worse. She dropped the wood into my arms, but her cold eyes never left Atlas. Even when I hissed in pain.
“Do you remember her? My girl. Do you remember?”
“Does she want to kill me?” Atlas whispered, barely audible.
I cast toward the woman only to find a heartache as big as his and a deep well of grief and regret.
“No.”
He nodded. “I’ve never opened my eyes to a single sunset without her on my mind. Never slept beneath a moon that didn’t carry her soul and her stories. There isn’t an ounce of my heart that could ever forget her. And there’s nothing you or your coven of witches can do about it.”
“You remember her stories?” The woman shuffled forward, her voice nearly inaudible.
“We were happy,” he told her, taking a tentative step. “She felt love and happiness on that final day and every day before that. She loved you, too, you know? For what it’s worth. She would never have left this place behind because she loved her family so much.”
Unshed tears filled her eyes as she tightened the shawl draped over her shoulders and moved another step toward him. But she spoke no more, simply nodding before walking away.
“Do you think she knew you would be the one to come?” I asked as we got back in the sleigh.
He lifted a shoulder. “All this time, it seemed like everyone else just moved on with their lives as if something catastrophic hadn’t happened. Because it hadn’t. Not to them. But losing Laramie was like forgetting how to breathe. How to live. And I was alone with that for a long time. I bet she was, too.
