by J. A. Saare
I responded as I always did. "Thanks, Max."
His pained expression was quickly masked.
He lowered his gaze and stopped shifting around, reading me loud and clear. He stepped back, giving us more than enough room to step inside. The scent I remembered was no longer present, replaced with something different. Sweetness coated the air, one of sunshine and lavender, coming from something I couldn't place.
"Barb put supper in the oven for you." Max closed the door and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I’ll go tell her to get things ready."
"That’s not necessary," I said quickly, eager to leave as soon as possible. "We can eat something when we get back."
"Speak for yourself." Noah hurried toward the dining room.
I started to argue but zipped it when he vanished around the corner.
Max and I stood in the foyer, staring at anything but each other.
The tension was as bad, if not worse, than it had ever had been.
I’d all but cut him clean from my life when I learned Mom was going to die. She'd lost so much time being with him, when she was young and healthy. After he'd left with a virtual stranger to live the werewolf dream, she'd been crushed. I had known how much he'd meant to her. He hadn't merely broken her heart, he'd ripped it from her chest and stomped on it.
"I’m going to wash up," I said after the silence became too much.
I didn’t look to see if he nodded, moved, or remained as he was as I crossed the living room and entered the hallway. The bathroom light was already on when I stepped inside, and the décor had changed, but I didn’t really pay attention. I walked to the sink and turned the knobs to full blast. As I bent at the waist, I collected the water in my cupped palms and splashed my face. Much of the water missed the mark, dribbling down my elbows and soaking the counter.
A soft, curious voice startled me. "You’re making a mess."
Sputtering, I grasped the knobs, shut off the water, and peered through watery lashes at the child next to me. A pair of green irises stared right back. As I lifted my head, I got a full-on view of the little girl with long, blonde hair who was dressed in a white dress embroidered with strawberries. The scent that had hit me when I entered the home was much stronger now, and suddenly I understood why the smell was so powerful and unsettling. Although I’d never seen the child before, my nose placed her immediately.
She thrust the small towel in her hand at me and said, "Mommy says that you have to clean up your messes. And boy, did you make a big one."
"Thanks." I tried to recover from the shock, coming to yet another realization about the things that had changed in my absence. I rushed to wipe down the counter and made sure I kept my wolf confined.
There was no need to make things worse.
"So you’re my big sister, huh?" She eyed me skeptically. "Daddy said I’d recognize you because of your scent. Plus the hair, green eyes, and all. He was right. You smell just like your room. I thought you’d look different, but you're like the pictures in the family album. I guess you stopped getting old from shifting. I’ve been told to expect that with someone like you, but I’ve never met anyone like you before. Daddy said that’s because you’re different and really special, but I'm not sure about that." She shook her head, folding her little arms over her chest, and studied me. "You don’t look all that different or special to me."
"Annabel." Barbara’s voice sent my gaze to the bathroom door. "That’s not very nice."
Annabel sighed dramatically. "You told me that lying is bad, Mommy. But every time I tell someone the truth, you say that it isn’t nice." The blonde cherub breezed by me, until she stood in front of her mother. She peered up, shook her head, and said, "Grown-ups don’t make any sense at all." Then she squeezed by her mother and left.
Barb looked apologetic. "I’m sorry, I thought she was upstairs."
My shock waned, replaced with emotions that were all too prominent in the house I'd been forced to live in—anger and resentment. "How old is she?"
To Barbara’s credit, she didn't back down. "She’ll be six in December."
Six. Meaning that within a year of my departure, the household was already preparing for a new arrival. "And you didn’t think to mention this little development when I checked in the last time?"
"You need to talk to your father." Barbara was uncomfortable, and it showed. She pulled her brown hair back with trembling hands. Her hazel eyes were torn. "He’s been waiting a long time to talk to you."
"I’m sure." I tossed the towel into the sink.
As I tried to slide past, Barbara moved in front of me, barring my path. "You need to be fair, Eleonora. Max wanted to make the trip directly to see you when your mother took a bad turn, but he knew you wouldn’t appreciate his presence. He called you several times a day, over weeks too long to count, before you’d even pick up the phone and let him know how you were. How was he supposed to tell you that you were going to have a sibling? You wouldn't let him do anything for you each time he tried. You wanted space and that's exactly what he gave you. Don't blame him for respecting your wishes. It's unfair, and you know it."
"Barb, please." I bit back my temper. "Get out of my way."
"He’s a good man. A decent man. I won’t let you keep hurting him." Her irises shifted color ever so slightly, becoming the yellow-gold I'd become accustomed to when I did something stupid as a teen.
"Don’t worry." I met her stare, refusing to look away. "You can’t hurt people if you stay away from them, and I don’t plan to stick around."
She was shocked by the revelation, which meant either Michael hadn’t warned my father that I didn’t intend to stay, or that Max knew but didn’t share the information with her. Either way, Barb wasn’t expecting it. The distraction provided the perfect opportunity to press by her and step into the hallway.
Striding past, I walked through the living room, past the foyer, and into the kitchen. My mind was sorting through too many things, my emotions a complete wreck. Directly ahead, I could see the dining room. Noah was seated in the place he always took, on the far side of the table directly beside my seat. He saw me coming, and his expression told me he’d been prepared for my reaction. He rose from his chair before I’d crossed the threshold of the room, lifting a hand into the air.
"It wasn't my place to tell you. Let Max explain."
"I’m leaving." I spun around, calling over my shoulder. "With or without you."
No one was in the kitchen as I stormed out of it, and I made it to the front door without interference. It wasn’t until I stepped onto the porch and came down the stairs that I was intercepted by Max, who was waiting in front of the truck. He pulled his hands from his pockets, walked forward, and met me halfway.
"You should have told me."
"I wanted to, Ellie Ray."
"Then what stopped you?" I placed my hands on my hips, using the sharp bite of my nails as they pressed into bare the skin above my jeans to keep my cool.
"You’re not exactly easy to talk to. Every time I’ve tried to make peace, you throw what happened between your mother and I back at me. When she got sick, you made sure the wall between us was as impenetrable as ever."
"My coming here was never under the condition that we develop a lasting relationship," I reminded him. "I needed to understand and come to terms with what I was. The rest was secondary."
"You’re right." He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. When he dropped his arm to his side, he looked at me. There was an enormity of regret in his eyes. "Ellie, I’ve always been courteous of your feelings in this, but enough is enough. Whether you want to accept it or not, you are my daughter. It was never my choice to stay out of your life. My wolf found its mate, just as your mom knew it might. I had to leave, and she knew why. I respected your mother's wishes because I felt I owed her that much, if nothing else. She honestly thought you wouldn't change, and she believed you would never have a place here. For all I knew, she could've been right. You could have had a normal
life without ever stepping foot near a pack. But that didn't happen. It's not the way the ball rolled." When I didn’t interrupt him, as I often did, he added, "If I could take it all back and do things differently, I would."
"Is this about me?" I met his level stare and questioned, "Or the little girl inside the house?"
"Your sister has waited a long time to meet you—too long, if you want me to be honest. She started asking about you as soon as she could talk. She saw your pictures, identified your scent in your bedroom, and made the connection. We put her off for a while by telling her about you and your mom. We told her how it made you different. But she’s been desperate to learn everything she can about you. Especially as she's gotten older."
The sibling bond—something I’d been told about, heard of second hand, but had never conceived of experiencing myself. In less than fifteen minutes, all of my plans had been irrevocably changed.
Turning my back on the pack, I could face.
Leaving behind a sibling? I wasn't so sure.
"She didn’t seem desperate when she introduced herself in the bathroom."
"Jesus, Ellie. Get off your high horse and take an honest look at the world. How did you expect her to react? She thought you wouldn’t come home because you didn’t want to meet her." For the first time, anger and frustration were present in his tone and face. "Then, you vanished without a trace. We didn’t know how to answer her questions when we didn’t know the answers ourselves. And believe me, she has a lot of them." He exhaled roughly, voice trembling with emotion. "That little girl has convinced herself that she's the reason you wouldn't come home. She thinks you don't like her, and she doesn't know why."
If his goal was to make me feel bad, it worked.
"Damn it, Max." I eased my hands off my hips and brought them to my face to massage my pounding temples. I didn't hate the sister I wasn't aware of until now. I didn't even know her. I wasn't sure what to say or do. "How would I know that? I didn't know she existed." Groaning, exasperated, and fed up, I told him the truth. "I'm so tired right now. You have no idea. If I could sink into the ground and vanish forever, I would. The last forty-eight hours have been hell, and the call we went on put my head in a weird place."
"It was a bad scene."
I peered at him through my fingers. "Noah told you?"
He appeared solemn and grim. "Michael called. He told me what happened. I also saw some of it when I turned on the news."
"I've never killed someone." I never imagined I would have to.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Seven words, each arranged in the same, carefully constructed row. How many times had he asked me that? More than I could recollect. He'd wanted to reach out to me, and I'd denied him every opportunity. Even after what Noah had done, he kept asking.
I'd assumed he'd give up, but he hadn't.
He still cared about me, even if I tried not to care for him.
I wanted to roar in outrage and grief.
Was everything doomed to bring back bad memories?
As if my mind attempted to inform me that things could be worse, I conjured the image of the woman gazing down into the face of her deceased husband—dead because of the silver bullet I’d lodged straight into his heart—and shook my head and dropped my hands.
I'd killed a man.
He was dead and would never come back.
My actions had cemented his fate.
A creak from the stairs brought my attention to Noah, who had finally decided to join us. His eyes darted to the side, indicating that he had company. Just behind him, standing in front of the door, was Annabel. Barbara stood behind her daughter, resting her hands on her child's small shoulders.
"You’re not leaving, are you?"Annabel asked, fidgeting. "You just got here."
Max spoke up when I hesitated. "Your sister had a long day."
"But she just got here," Annabel repeated and stepped forward, her small hands wringing the center of her dress, and looked directly at me. "Why are you leaving? Did I do something wrong?"
Her expression was one I’d seen staring back at me in the mirror once or twice, when I knew someone wasn’t around to witness it. Feeling that I didn't fit in and never would, no matter how hard I tried. Her vulnerability and desire to communicate with me—the sibling she’d long waited for—shamed me in ways I didn’t think possible.
I felt like a complete sack of shit.
"Never think that," I answered and gazed at her tiny form. I released the hold I'd kept over my wolf, allowing her to rise. The beast did so immediately, alert and intensely aware. It scented the air and stilled in shock. Annabel was a living, breathing part of me. We were connected by blood. "You haven't done anything wrong."
"Are you sure?" She inhaled quickly and looked at me. "You don't smell sure."
I moved away from Max, beckoning her. "Come here."
She did, a tad hesitant.
We met at the bottom step.
I kneeled in front of her, physically and mentally drained. Even still, I scented her, becoming more aware of her. With us this close, I felt a new kind of energy surface. My wolf definitely approved of the sensation. I dimly acknowledged this was a part of me that I hadn't known I needed.
"I'm very happy to meet you. How could I not be?" I knew I was making an educated guess when I said, "Your full name is Annabel Lee Carthy."
Her eyes widened in awe. "You know?"
"Of course I do."
Suspicious, she questioned, "How? Daddy didn't tell you. He hasn't talked to you in ages. He complains about it all the time when he thinks I'm asleep."
"Annabel!" Barb's cry conveyed her mortification.
"I know." Annabel exaggerated the words with a sigh. "Stop being rude." Giving me her undivided attention again, she asked, "How did you know?"
There was so much hope in her little eyes.
"Max—" I quickly shut my mouth, realizing she might find it strange if I kept referring to our father by his given name. Starting over, I said, "Father adores Edgar Allan Poe. What else would he name you?" I watched her react, studying her little face, finding delight in her growing curiosity. Before she could ask more questions, I said, "Of course I know your name. Do you know mine?"
"Oh, that's easy," she stated, completely confident. "Eleonora Raven Carthy."
"See?" I tilted my head. "A Poe fan to the bitter end."
I felt the part of her that was wolf, timid but curious, inspecting me. I couldn't turn her away, allowing and welcoming the interest. My wolf was extremely careful, aware of who and what it was meeting. This was a child we had to take caution with, be protective of. Our wolves touched, greeted, and recognized each other. The harmony they created was unlike anything I'd ever known.
Then I felt a fist-like grip in my chest.
The sensation was staggering.
They converged, synchronized, and put each other to memory. I would have barreled over if my wolf tried to take over. Thankfully, that part of me allowed my human side to partake in the moment.
This was what I'd heard about. The sibling-bond.
Unbreakable, even in death.
It happened so quickly. In a flash, really.
This child now meant more to me than life itself.
The connection between us would never diminish.
Sister.
I nearly sagged when her joy slammed into me, but she quickly intervened, breaking me out of the stupor. She grasped my wrist, tugged at it, and squeezed. She was more than enthusiastic, her burgeoning wolf ready to pounce on me, exuding far more energy than I had. Since she was a pure werewolf, this was likely an exciting moment but nothing new for her. Yes, I was her sister. She yearned for the bond she knew she needed. But as an innocent child, she simply experienced something new, faced it, accepted it, and moved on.
"But people call you Eleonora, Raven, Ray, Ellie, or Ellie Ray." She wriggled her nose and giggled. "You sure have lots of names."
"Yeah," I responded and dipped my head. "I suppose
I do."
"Will I have lots of names?"
"Oh, yes." I lifted my chin, gazed at her, and stroked her silky hair with my free hand. One day, if she wanted, the tiny creature would rule the world. When I glanced above Annabel’s head to look at Barbara, I met the older woman’s eyes. Her relief was obvious. She was immensely thankful I'd done right by her child, her face full of emotion. Returning my attention to Annabel, I said, "You'll have more names than you can count."
"What kinds of names?"
"I'm not sure." I waited until her tiny fingers let me go and struggled to stand. "I suppose that's up to you."
Her teeny face peered up, eyes expectant. "When will you come back?"
"Soon."
"Do you promise?"
"Of course I do." I smiled, drawing on a rapidly depleting reserve of energy. I realized I not only wanted to see my sister again, I needed to. "Now that we’ve met, you won’t be able to keep me away."
She took another breath, judged the scent of my sincerity, and smiled.
Her broad and enthusiastic grin stretched from ear to ear.
The barrier I’d placed between myself, the pack, and my family obliterated. The feeling was staggering, like a sucker punch to the stomach. What I felt was just as strong as the raw emotion I'd felt the first time I'd physically accepted Noah, giving myself over to his wolf and presence, and solidified my place in his pack.
Even though I was upright, I swayed.
If I didn't sit down, I was going to fall on my ass.
"Noah." His name came out as a plea.
I had to decompress and put my thoughts together.
Even facing this event, making such an extreme connection, the shooting had left me emotionally hollow. I'd taken a man's life and needed to accept the consequences of my actions. I had to come to terms with them. As much as I delighted in Annabel's radiance, I didn't need to be around the impressionable little girl in this kind of headspace, even if she wanted me to stay.