Ryan
Rain pelts the roof of the pack house. It’s the largest building, other than the barns we erected last year, in Silverhide. It’s an exact model of our pack house back in Crescent Falls but made with cruder materials instead of things like steel and concrete. The log walls still smell like cedar as I walk around, making the rounds, checking in on my pack.
Everyone has questions about my wife, of course. Jacob, after being sent to Silverhide to gather help with the carts, spread the word. Now I’m being showered in clipped congratulations, everyone sounding a little unsure. I’m sure the strained smile on my face doesn’t help.
Aviva is seated at the end of one of the three long, wooden tables. She has a plate of food in front of her, and I’ve been watching her eat as I weave from pack member to pack member, making sure she’s actually touching her food. She’s seated next to Shoshannah, who’s a bit pale, like she had a firm talking to from not only Freya but her sister.
But Aviva looks somewhat at ease. I doubt she rested like I ordered, but I knew she needed a minute alone. Don’t ask me how because I don’t fucking know. I just felt it. Felt it like her emotions are my own. My hand curls into a fist around the mark–now barely visible–where our hands had been joined. I wonder if this strange sensation has something to do with the ceremony. I wonder if we’re now bound in some way that goes beyond our vows to each other, which I honestly don’t even know because they were in a different language.
Aviva’s eyes briefly meet mine as I walk past their end of the table. She looks away first, and I find a seat next to Jacob and Andrew, who are sitting with some other single men, enjoying plates of roast venison and mashed potatoes with a dark, rick gravy.
I pile food onto my own plate in silence as Andrew carries on a conversation with the men in our group. He’s telling them about the spring hunt we went on, of course. Everyone wants to know how it went.
I eat, occasionally glancing down the table toward Aviva. Dahlia has joined them, her hands resting on the curve of her swollen belly as she and Aviva converse, which is nice to see. I’m hoping Aviva will take to Dahlia. Dahlia is easy going and loving, easy to befriend. Having her join my pack was a blessing in disguise. She brings everyone together even in the worst circumstances.
James sits down beside me and sets a glass of whiskey in front of me.
“Thanks,” I mumble around a bite of food.
“You look like you could use it.” He sips his own drink as he glances down at his mate, but I notice the worry in his eyes.
“What’s up?”
“Dahlia’s been having contractions all day. The midwife believes she’s getting close. Early labor, she called it. She could finally have that baby tonight.”
“How do you feel about it?”
“She’s miserable. Can’t get comfortable; can’t sleep. I’m ready for her to be done, you know? I just hate seeing her in pain.”
I nod, even though I have nothing to add. I’ve thought about having kids but not about being a father, if that makes sense. I feel like some people, like my brother, are meant for it. He’s so hands on with Blake, and their second son, Liam. My nephews are only a year apart.
Evander drifts into my mind and I smile to myself a bit. Evander, who is scary as hell, dotes on his kids. Brie, who is three and about as wild as they come, has him wrapped around her tiny finger. Then there’s Aris, two and more subdued, like Blake. The boys are nearly the same age and can just hangout instead of needing constant stimulation. Kenna had a daughter last year, Maeve. Life moved on when I left. I’m okay with it. I needed the distance.
“Where’d you go?” James asks.
I shake myself out of my mind and take a sip of the whiskey. “Just thinking about everyone back in Crescent Falls and Moonrise.”
“Does your family know about the wedding? That you have a wife?”
It feels weird talking to James about this. He never knew Hadley was my mate. I wasn’t even the one to tell him after Hadley died. Sarah spilled the beans. I’m not mad about it. James and I both dealt with the grief of losing her in a similar way–not talking about it ever again.
The worst part, I think, is that neither of us knew what she’d gotten herself into until it was too late, and then Sydney killed Gabriel without getting the full story of why.
“No, they don’t. I still have to go to Moonrise next month for a bit. I’ll tell them then. My parents will be there, and it’ll save me a trip back to Crescent Falls.”
James nods, but his attention is back on Dahlia, who is a little pale as she tries to carry on a conversation with Aviva and Freya. Justine, the midwife, and the mate of one of my warriors, comes to talk to her, bending to whisper in her ear. Justine is pregnant, too. In fact, our pack will have at least five new babies born this summer.
Again, I glance at Aviva, and my mind wanders toward the possibility of… having a child with her.
I banish the thought. I find that I constantly have to remind myself that she’s not really mine. I’m just holding space for her mate when she finds him.
“When the weather clears,” I tell James, derailing the subject away from me and Aviva, “I’m going to escort my wife’s sister back to Endova personally. I’ll take Jacob with me. It’ll be faster just the two of us and the girl.” I take another sip of whiskey. “I’m going to put Freya up in her own house nearby.”
“The cottage next to the blacksmith shop is finished and unoccupied,” James says with a nod. “I can get Andrew to set it up for her tonight. He’s been talking about her non-stop.”
I smile despite the heavy feeling in my chest. “Well, she’ll be his neighbor. But I already told him to leave her alone. I’m on good terms with Jerrod, but the rest of the elders in Endova are still skeptical of me.”
“She’s still welcome to stay in our house, of course. But if Dahlia is having the baby tonight, I don’t Freya’s going to get much sleep. I know I won’t.”
Justine moves toward us, giving me an apologetic smile. “Alpha Ryan,” she says with a bob of her head, then turns to James. “Beta, Dahlia and I are going back to your house. I need to see if she’s progressing.”
James immediately straightens up, his face going a little pale. Justine gives him a tight smile as she lays a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry, she’s not going to have the baby in the pack house. I told her to eat a little more, and then we’ll walk back, taking the long way. It’s good for her to be up and moving right now, even if it’s uncomfortable.”
James nods, his eyes going a little hazy with concern. “How long, do you think?”
She tilts her head from side to side. “Tomorrow afternoon, probably. Her contractions are still very far apart. We’ll see, though. The most important thing you can do for her tonight is get her to rest as much as she can.”
“I’ll, uhm, I’ll come with you,” he says, then claps me on the shoulder in farewell.
I watch them move down the table. He lovingly helps Dahlia off the bench and walks her out of the pack house, using his jacket to shield her from the rain.
Aviva is watching the scene as well. My eyes meet hers. She looks concerned, too, but quickly looks away again.
I feel bad for being so hard on her earlier, but I didn’t know what else to do. The Shoshannah situation sucks and the last thing I wanted was for a rift to form between the sisters before I had to separate them again. Now, she’s sitting easily beside Shoshannah, putting more food on Shoshannah’s plate, and Shoshannah’s face is alight with excitement as she looks around in awe and chats happily with Freya.
These women haven’t ever left Endova. I have to remember that when I look at Aviva and only see heartache and uncertainty behind her eyes.
People start leaving as the night drags on. My pack is on a rotating set of chores, and those in charge of dishes have started gathering plates by the time Andrew goes to fetch Freya and Shoshannah to lead them to what will be Freya’s house for the summer. I told him what to do over the mind-link, of course, and he was more than happy to move her into the cottage right next door to his blacksmith shop where his own living quarters are housed behind it. Aviva rises and watches them go, but stands there, picking at the fabric of the pants I found for her today. Dahlia was worried the clothes she brought up to the house before we arrived would be too big for her after seeing her for the first time, so I found some myself. The sage green wool cardigan Aviva’s wearing covers a simple cream colored shirt, and she’s wearing thick, blue socks with her sandals. It’s an odd outfit, but I chose the sweater for a reason. One of my pack members knits them using wool from the herd of sheep we keep in the valley but adds her own unique flare. Little white beads are dotted throughout. They remind me of the shells she wore in her hair during those first few encounters we shared.
Right now, her hair is completely loose and wild as she turns to me looking defeated.
“Let's go home,” I tell her, and my stomach twists in a way I hadn’t expected when I take her hand in mine.
* * *
“It’s a cell phone,” I tell her ten minutes later, standing in my bedroom–our bedroom, even though I plan to sleep on the couch until further notice. I click the button that makes the screen come to life, and Aviva jumps back. “That’s Sydney, my brother.”
“What kind of weapon is it?”
“It’s not a weapon, not really. I guess it depends on how shitty you are to the person you’re talking to.” I press it to my ear. “It doesn’t work out here. No service.”
She stares blankly at me.
“You can talk to people on it. You can also send them text messages, like little letters, back and forth.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” I put the phone back in the top drawer. I noticed immediately that she rifled through my things, but I expected that. I was kind of looking forward to seeing what dirt she thought she could dig up on me, which items she was most curious about.
I rest my hands on the top of my dresser and turn to look at her. She looks… different. Unsure. Tired. That fearlessness behind her eyes has waned, replaced by something shockingly empty and cold. It guts me, and I sigh heavily. “This is your room now. I won’t be sharing a bed with you, don’t worry.”
I expect her to say something back to me, something sharp and cutting, but her brows draw together. “Uh, okay–”
“Are you all right? I know this is a lot to take in.”
“I’m fine,” she lies.
I’m not sure what to do. I never really got to know girls. I honestly never really dated past that first date kind of thing. I truly didn’t emotionally connect with a woman I wasn’t related to until Sarah came along, but this is obviously a different situation entirely.
“Well, goodnight–”
“What’s in that room?” She points through the open bedroom door. The door across the hall is slightly ajar, meaning she went inside.
I roll my lower lip between my teeth. “Nothing, really.”
“It stinks in there, and it’s dark. There’s no windows.”
“It doesn't stink,” I chuckle, closing the top drawer of the dresser and crossing my arms over my chest. “Why were you looking around? What did you think you’d find?”
Finally, a glimmer of that cutting attitude I’ve come to really enjoy flares to life behind her eyes. I’m fucking relieved, too.
“What’d you think you’d find? A body? My deepest, darkest secrets come to life?”
Her jaw flexes. She says nothing, but I can tell something’s bothering her, so I shrug. “I’ll show you, come on.”
I brush past her. She turns to follow me, her footsteps light and agile on the floorboards, like she’s standing on her toes to peer over my shoulder into the darkness as I open the door.
I flip on a light switch, and my uncle's weird powers dimly light the room, swirling in those odd lightbulbs I had to purchase and have shipped from Moonrise.
She makes a small noise in her throat behind me.
“See, it’s nothing.”
“What are those?”
“Photographs.” I step deeper into the room, which is so snug that Aviva and I are standing side by side, touching. “This is my darkroom.”
She scans the length of twine running from one side of the room to the other. Photographs hang from the twine, fully dry and developed since I hung them up before I left for Endova last week. Containers of water mixed with developing chemicals rest on a table, which is likely where the scent she smelled is coming from.
On instinct, I start taking the photographs down. She stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Where is that?” she asks, pointing to a photograph of a heavily wooded landscape with several pools of milky water in the center, surrounded by rock. The image is in black and white.
“There’s a hot spring nearby, deeper in the valley.” I take the picture down, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
I’ve never shown anyone this before. Even back in Crescent Falls, I kept this hobby a secret. It was easier there, since everything was digitized. I have to do everything by hand here, though.
It’s… calming. It clears my head in a way nothing else does.
“It’s a… a painting?” She smooths a finger over the glossy film paper and reels back, confused. Her eyes meet mine, and I smile a little bit. All of this–all the things I might have taken for granted when I lived in the excessively modern Crescent Falls–are wholly new to Aviva.
“No, it’s not a painting. I have a camera.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“I’ll show you sometime.” No, I can’t. I can’t show her. I can’t take her to the places I photograph and let her see this part of me that no one else knows because she’s… not mine.
She looks up at me with such softness that I… I just can’t. I can’t do this.
I reach behind her and shut off the light. “Goodnight, Aviva.”