Chapter 8

Ronan caught me.

"Little Wren!"

His voice in my ear, fading.

And another man's.

Someone saying my name.

Then nothing.

When I opened my eyes, I was in the follow-up clinic.

Ronan sat by the bed, holding my hand.

He let out a breath when he saw me.

"You're awake?"

I nodded.

My head still ached a little.

Then I went still — the memories were rushing back, all of them at once.

"Little Wren?"

Ronan's voice.

I came back to myself and looked at him.

My eyes felt hot.

"I remember."

He watched me with aching in his face, and nodded.

"Okay."

He didn't say anything else.

He just held my hand, tight, and tighter.

"Let him in."

I said.

Ronan looked at me, then stood up.

The door opened and Damon walked in.

He was thinner. His eyes were still red.

Like the last five years had taken everything he had.

We looked at each other in silence.

For a long time.

Neither of us spoke.

"Damon. I remember."

I spoke first.

"Then —"

"Damon."

I cut him off.

"Let's let each other go."

He froze, like he hadn't understood.

"What?"

"Let me go."

"And I'll let you go."

I held his eyes.

"You don't love me."

"You were used to me."

"Used to me being there."

"Used to me waiting."

"That isn't love."

He opened his mouth, wanting to say more.

"Go home."

I said. I saw the stubbornness still under his eyes.

"Don't come back."

He stood there. Tears slid down his face.

The first time he'd ever cried in front of me.

Only there was nothing in me now.

No ache. No resentment.

Ronan came in and stood quietly with me.

Damon looked at him.

Looked at the rings on our fingers.

I glanced down.

The band Ronan had slid onto me was still there.

"Go."

I said.

He stood a moment longer, then turned.

One step at a time, out of the room.

The door closed. The room was quiet.

Ronan sat down beside me and took my hand.

I looked out the window.

The sky was very blue.

As blue as that day five years ago.

Only I was not the same.

After that, Damon came once a year.

The first year.

He stood outside the grounds, watching from a distance.

Ronan was with me in the garden, in the sun.

He watched for a long time.

The second year.

He had a letter delivered.

I didn't open it.

Ronan asked if I wanted to throw it away.

I said keep it.

Keeping it didn't mean reading it.

The third year.

He was at the gate when Ronan and I came home.

My arm was through Ronan's. I was laughing.

I saw him, and the laugh stalled for a second.

Then I kept walking,

and as we passed, he called out.

"Wren."

I didn't stop.

Ronan's hand tightened on mine.

The fourth year.

He didn't come.

Word came he'd been ill.

In and out of a clinic for a long time.

The fifth year.

He came again,

standing just outside the grounds,

like a thief.

The sixth year.

The seventh.

The eighth.

Every year the same.

Standing a while. Watching a while.

The ninth year.

The day he came

happened to be my mating ceremony with Ronan.

The grounds were dressed in white.

Flowers and balloons.

Family and Pack. Everyone.

Uncle stood at the front, eyes reddening.

Ronan in a black suit, at the end of the aisle, waiting for me.

I was in the gown, arm through Uncle's.

Step by step forward.

The sun was good.

The wind lifted the veil.

Halfway down the aisle,

I paused.

Outside the grounds, past the crowd, one figure stood.

Damon.

In a dark suit.

Hidden behind the gathering.

He had aged fast. Half of his hair was white.

And still he was there, the same as he'd been for nine years.

I looked at him once,

just once,

and kept walking.

Ronan was waiting at the end of the aisle for me.

The officiant recited the mating vows.

I do.

Rings exchanged.

He slid mine on for me,

our names engraved on the inside.

Once it was on, he bent and kissed me.

I closed my eyes. The sun was on my face.

Warm. Like being new.

I opened my eyes and glanced past the crowd.

He was gone.

Only wind, and trees in the distance.

"What is it?"

Ronan asked.

I shook my head.

"Nothing."

He took my hand and I went with him.

I didn't look back.

Some things had to be set down. Some people should have been forgotten long before.

The sun was good. The wind was light.

The man beside me was holding my hand. It was so much.

After that,

there was no after.

The last news I had of Damon

came through his attorney.

Damon had left everything he owned to me.

I didn't want any of it. I didn't want to be tied to him.

In the end, Uncle took the lead and set up a foundation,

to give to the young she-wolves in the Packs the rest of the world had forgotten.