He made a noise so broken I had to swallow down my own tears when he saw the cake. I let go of him long enough to light the fire pit before turning back and gesturing to the letters.
“With everything going on, I missed Talia’s birthday. I thought maybe we could celebrate their birthdays together. I did a little sleuthing and figured out that peanut butter was Gabriella’s favorite.”
“It was,” he whispered, tears carving a path down his cheeks.
“Every year I write a letter to Talia, telling her how much I love her, how I miss her. I pour my heart out on that page.”
I walked over and picked one paper up, sliding it across the table to him and adding a pen.
“Then, I burn it. It’s my way of feeling it, letting whatever tears fall, and then I send it off. I trust that she understands the message, and that’s enough for me. It doesn’t make the grief any less, but it gives it space and gives me room to breathe.”
He was silent, and I wasn’t sure if I’d overstepped. This could backfire on me.
I swallowed hard and gestured to the other page. “I thought maybe we could try it together, since today is Gabriella’s birthday.”
“I don’t know if I can write anything,” he said.
“That’s okay, too,” I promised. “There’s no wrong way to handle this.”
He sat down, eyes focused on the paper. His face twisted into a scowl, but it wasn’t angry, just painted with pain. He reached forward and wrapped his fingers around the pen, holding it tightly.
Then I turned away. He deserved space for this, and I had my own letter to write.
Once I got started, it was like I couldn’t stop pouring my soul out, telling her how much I missed her, and that I wished I could’ve called her all these years. She would have hated how my pack turned out. It was airing my grievances just like I would have if we were having a vent session like we did so often. With each line, my chest loosened more. I was giving myself permission to be hurt, to be angry, but also to let it go. I wanted more out of this life than to dwell in those emotions.
I wanted to breathe. To live.
When I finished, I set my pen down and folded the note into a square. These weren’t thoughts anybody else was ever going to read.
It took him a little longer, his pen scratching across the paper. He didn’t even seem to notice I was done, and I was glad because I wasn’t trying to rush him.
As I waited, I let myself remember my best friend. She was so beautiful. She had wild blonde curly hair that stuck up in all directions when she woke up, which made the mornings after our sleepovers hysterical. She was the kind who teased you about everything, and we had so many inside jokes I couldn’t even keep track.
Any time I spent around her, I was simplyhappy. She understood me in a way no one else had since. It was in a way that was forged in embarrassing moments and trust.
Sometimes, life wasn’t fair. She was so young, with so much ahead of her. I hadn’t realized I was crying as I stared into the flames until Kieran’s soft touch gently brushed the tears away.
He didn’t try to tell me it was alright. He had his own tears flowing down his cheeks. I couldn’t help doing the same, our grief and heartbreak so strong in the moment that it was hard to breathe.
His hands sought out mine as we stood up, as if he needed me to comfort him.
Then we faced the fire together.
“Happy birthday, Talia,” I whispered. “I miss you so fucking much. It hurts, but I know you were watching that game with me and laughing your ass off.”
Then I tossed the paper inside, watching as the flames curled around it, turning it to ash.
My chest ached sharply, then it dissipated, as if my body let it go the moment the ashes joined the embers. It was as if I had a connection with her in this moment, like she was standing next to me, holding my other hand, reassuring me that I was going to be fine.
After the moment passed, I turned toward Kieran, letting him know I was ready if he was.
The alpha took a deep breath, holding out the paper, but not throwing it yet.
“Happy birthday, Gabriella,” he said. “I miss you. I try every day to be the man you thought I was. I try to live, because you would’ve wanted me to.”
He brought the paper to his lips, kissing it softly before tossing it in.
The breath he let out after was long and low, like he was physically pushing out the grief that had been haunting him.
