The Wildflower Series

by Rachelle Mills

  I knew you loved me, and now I know what you went through. I love you, Clayton, but I can’t stop thinking about Cash. I can’t stop wanting to feel him or have him feel me, but I love you. Now I understand it all. All those years you had to fight against something as natural as breathing for me, for us. And in the end, I understand it all, and it makes me love you even more.

  You tried so hard and I never understood that fight.

  I’ve stopped dreaming about you. It’s been months now, but I can’t get our island out of my head. If I could go back in time, would I do it all over again? Maybe.

  It feels as if I’m being swallowed down by something rotten. I feel as if I stink of rot and leave ruin in my wake. This family tolerates me, but they don’t love me, and I don’t blame them at all. I’m a stranger here; I refuse to make myself anything more than that. Why? Because it’s easier that way for everyone. It’s easier to move on from a stranger than a friend.

  Caleb called and said that Rya left your pack today to go her own way, and I know that you have fallen in love with her. I knew it as soon as I heard that you let her go. You let me go, and now you let her go.

  Don’t feel guilty for loving her. It can’t be helped. You fought too long.

  I’m going to be nothing more than a memory that will fade in time, and you are going on with your life. I’ll only be remembered in pieces, in bits of things, and it kills me inside, because in the most selfish way possible, I want you to remember me on our island together. That’s the person I want you to remember. That’s how I want to be remembered by you, on our island free of the world, while we played in our own world.

  When I think of you, I think of our island now—those were the best days of my life.

  You gave me my best days.

  I love you, Clayton, and I’m selfish because I can’t let you go. I don’t know, maybe it’s different for females; we might have a harder time letting things go, letting our love go?

  When you finally had the real talk with me underneath the apple tree, I was on my knees begging you not to do this, to fight harder. I was begging you not to do this to us. You broke my heart that day. I knew it was coming. I knew it, even before Rya showed back up in the pack. It was going down that path. I didn’t want to see our end. I tried stopping the inevitable. I tried stalling the end of us. That was wrong. I just couldn’t let you go. I wasn’t ready for the breakup. I wasn’t ready not to have you in my life anymore. I wasn’t ready to be alone without you. You’ve always been there; I don’t remember a time you weren’t there. We always walked side by side, even as pups. We were a team, and I wasn’t ready for all of it to end.

  Now my end is coming near, and I feel prepared. In a strange way, I’m calm. I can handle death, but I couldn’t handle losing you.

  I’m afraid you’re going to be able to handle losing me, and it kills me inside, but I understand it. You already gave me up without any kind of fight. I’m sure you’re finding a way to finally breathe again. I know I was choking you in the end, and now the noose around your neck is gone.

  Breathe, breathe, breathe.

  Love, Kennedy

  Chapter 16

  Hands are Meant to Feel

  It starts with Cassius entering the house, and everyone goes quiet. Even the twins stop running toward him. He’s shadowed to me, a big blur that isn’t in focus.

  It ends with Caleb saying, “Brother,” and embracing him in a long hug.

  “I didn’t recognize you at first.”

  “I didn’t, either,” Cassius says back to him.

  “Hey, it’s your dad.” The shadow of Cassius bends down, and the twins are reluctant to get closer. Dee moves faster than Ken, who still holds an exaggerated limp.

  “What happened to your knee?” There’s a lowered tone of concern to Cassius.

  “The goose got him, but killer, over there, got the goose,” Caleb answers because the twins aren’t making a sound.

  “Specs, you killed the goose?” He sounds surprised.

  “The Wild murdered it. Only the feathers are left,” Caleb growls low in his throat.

  “I’ve always hated that goose, it was too aggressive around the kids, but Rya insisted she needed a guardian for the chickens.”

  “I can’t believe you killed that goose.” Cassius seems shocked by the news.

  “Feel my face. It’s me, Dee.” I can see a blur of movement as the twins get closer. “See? It’s your dad, just without hair. Like Ken.”

  I pause, feeling the beat of my heart in my throat. Each beat pulsing harder, faster, my ears fill with the sound of rushing blood. He’s shaved his head. How I wish I could see him right now. See what he looks like without the layers of hair that hide his face.

  “Specs, where’s your glasses?”

  There is a pause, and I open my mouth, but words are trapped like spit under my tongue that gets swallowed down with a now-closed mouth.

  “Battle wounded, the frame broke.” Caleb uses his voice.

  “Specs’ Wild killed the goose,” Ken says really loud.

  “Did she? Well, the goose had it coming. Let me see your knee.” Cassius seems to kneel down on the floor while Ken gets closer, limps harder now.

  “His leg isn’t broken. Dallas said it’s normal for kids that age to limp around for a little while after the injury takes place.”

  “That’s a cool Band-Aid.” I hear Cassius place a kiss to Ken’s knee.

  “How was Vegas?”

  “I’ll tell you later…” Cassius pauses. “Thanks for watching them. Are you guys ready to go home? I’m tired.” Cassius pulls up to his full height. I stand. All of our stuff is at the door.

  “Clayton said you came by and dropped off some letters for him.”

  “That’s the last time I go there, Caleb. It’s the last time going there.”

  “I believe you this time.”

  He helps Ken get on his shoes, and Dee does it herself. She’s more independent. Once she knows how to do something, she won’t allow anyone else to do it for her.

  “You have everything?” Cassius seems to be speaking to me, so I nod yes.

  The kids run toward his truck, and I get to hold onto Cassius’s shirt. He’s slow leading the way to the truck, mentioning a dip in the driveway, to be careful. He opens the door, and before I get in, he fixes the strap of my dress that’s fallen past my shoulder. His finger slides up slowly, almost deliberately slow. His hand raises up to my neck until he curls a piece of hair around my ear before pulling his fingers quickly away. He clears his throat.

  He has leaned in. I can almost feel his chest against mine. “New dress?” He takes my bags out of my hands, not saying another word. He shuts the door as soon as I’m seated. I can hear him buckle up the kids’ car seats.

  “How was your trip, Daddy?”

  “Good. How was your sleepover with Uncle Caleb? What did you do?”

  Dee talks the entire time; Ken doesn’t say much. She tells him about the murder of the goose, about how Ken needed two Band-Aids for his boo-boo, and about me sleeping in my big girl bed.

  I want to say if he can change, I should too. I don’t, and I feel a hand on my shoulder with a squeeze of flesh before those fingers fall away. I can still feel the warmth of his palm as we pull into the driveway.

  “You slept in your own bed, Specs?”

  I keep looking forward, not at him, and nod my head yes.

  “Wow, we have a lot to talk about tonight.” I can’t tell him that I woke up all night long with pressure around my neck and the screams of him in my ear.

  When he parks the truck, the kids get out first. He carries all the bags, and I walk a little behind him.

  It’s quiet when we get inside. I wish I could see their faces. I know they are both hugging him to them. I can hear a muffled cry with a lot of throat clearing.

  “We have a lot to talk about, Cash.” Luna Grace talks low, and I head upstairs. It’s family time, and I’m not going to intrude on what they want to
ask Cassius in private.

  Letter 16

  Dear Clayton,

  You were the wolf I loved, you were the only one that I ever wanted, and I think it ate me alive. Everything consumed me, and I wanted to keep everything to myself. I think that’s where it all went wrong.

  I got selfish, greedy, and didn’t want to let you go when we should have let each other go.

  I refused to hear anything anyone was saying. I refused to see the way my friends started to leave me when they met their mates. I refused to listen to them. I refused to listen to anyone because I knew deep down they were right. I just refused to listen because our love was real; we were the ones that were going to make it to the very end. I sacrificed for loving you, I knew we couldn’t have our own children, and I told myself that was all right. I told myself our love was enough for me.

  You were worth all my sacrifice.

  Now, I’m pregnant with twins from my mate, and all I want to think about is you. It’s so hard to let you go.

  Cash gave me a choice. He said that if I want to, I could go back to you. He told me that he would let me go, but he keeps the kids. He’s giving me an out. I think it’s more so I start trying to live, to fight harder to stay alive. I think he’s trying to goal set for me.

  I’m not going to survive the birth. I already know. My Wild died inside me; she’s gone. There is nothing but this ever-extending hollowness in my chest.

  Given the choice, I would pick staying with Cash than going back to you.

  A little each day I’m able to connect the pieces my love for you has left me in. It was small at first, like waking up without crying because I was without you. I could eat things without everything reminding me of you. Tastes, smells, sounds aren’t as triggering as they once were.

  I used to hate sunsets because we always spent them together. It was hard to get over the sunsets. I painted a mural in the twins’ room; there’s a small space dedicated to you. It’s us holding hands with our faces toward the setting sun. Only our backs are seen, and it’s like we are walking hand in hand into the water, together forever. It’s a picture full of lies because that won’t ever happen, but it’s a picture of a fairytale, my fairytale ending for us.

  I’m letting you go, Clayton. I’m letting everything go, and it feels all right now.

  Soon for you it will be a year, then it will turn into two, three, four years, and my hope is that you are happy, that I’m remembered with love and a smile on your face, not with tears coming down your face and acid crawling up your throat.

  I don’t want to be that ghost ache in your gut.

  Where your skin like a wolf not like a skin that’s turned into a ghost. I know you, Clayton, I know you better than I know myself, and you’re going to blame him for a lot of things, but it’s not only Cash’s fault what happened to me. I take credit for everything as well.

  Don’t kill him when he comes for you, because he will come for you. I know it down to my bones. He’s going to try, and I want you to be patient with him. He has my children to raise, and I need him alive.

  This is so hard for me, but you have to go find Rya. I know you let her leave because you were in love with her. Don’t feel guilty for that. Don’t feel guilty for falling in love with someone else that isn’t me. I know I was the one that kept you from her. Don’t let yourself keep her from you. Go find her and start a life with her. It’s going to be hard for her to forgive you, but she forgave me, and that says a lot. You’ve got the bond; use it.

  I’m sorry I still love you, but I’m starting to love him more, and in the end, I want you to be happy. At the end of all of this, I want you to be happy.

  I love you, Clayton, as my first love, as my best friend.

  This is me trying to say goodbye to you.

  Love, Kennedy

  Chapter 17

  Feel the Flush of Red

  A knock sounds on the door before it’s open. “You’re still up?”

  Clinging wet hair has Cassius turning around with his back facing me.

  “Sorry, Treajure. I thought you’d be dressed by now.”

  I pull one of his shirts on quickly before really being dry; my underwear slips up fast before he turns himself around. I think his breathing has stopped because I can’t hear anything. No sound, just a blur in the room without noise.

  I sit on the bed, fingers curling into the covers. The sheets feel new and untouched.

  Cassius clears his throat, all quiet, that trails a quick swallow. “Where are your glasses? I’ll fix them.” I touch the bedside table drawer. He comes into the room, closing the door behind him. I don’t think the two of us have ever been in this room together. It was Dallas’s old room, the only one up here with its own bathroom. Luna Grace said a female has to have her own bathroom, and Cassius moved into his old room. They all thought it would work, a new room, a new bed, new paint on the walls. Nothing worked, and now here I am sitting on the bed with that weight starting around my neck.

  When I reach to open the drawer, he stops me with a light touch. “I’ll get them.” I can hear his small toolbox open; he places it right beside me. Somehow he’s kneeling now in front of me, not standing.

  “This screw always gives me trouble, Specs. No matter how much I keep adjusting it, somehow it always adjusts itself back out.” The steam of his breath brushes against the fine hairs on my temples.

  He edges himself a little closer; my knees push out to either side of his hips.

  “That was a brave thing you did, taking on a guardian goose. Ken told me you saved his life. He told me everything.” He’s a blur even this close, even with his chin almost touching my forehead.

  “Thank you, Treajure.” He leans forward, whispering it like smoke in my ear. I swallow too loud; I can hear it in my ears. My insides tighten—thighs tense.

  The Wild whines inside.

  Skin is a great source of pain, but right now, it’s the greatest source of pleasure.

  Cassius scoots himself closer, looming, protective, and my legs spread wider.

  “The frame’s still good. It’s the screws that are worth nothing. I’ll order you another frame tomorrow. I think you got a lemon here, Specs.” I swear I feel something electric between us. The hairs on my arms are standing on end; I can feel my skin rise up with goosebumps. It takes everything not to shake my spine out.

  “You have long eyelashes.” His finger sweeps over one eye, then the other. Tiny catches of pleasure prickle across my flesh.

  He strokes the outside of my ears, taking all the clinging hair away from the front of me to the back. My nipples feel exposed now. I’m afraid if he’s looking down he’ll see them rubbed up against the damp cotton material.

  “You’ve got nice hair. It’s thick.” I can tell his chest is rising with how deep he is breathing.

  My inner thighs accommodate the width of him, spreading so he’s now so close that I think our chests could touch. He’d be able to feel the hardness of my nipples if he just leaned in a little closer.

  The Wild within whines low.

  He continues to fix the glasses, taking his time, and when he turns to place something on the table, his forearm brushes against my chest; nipples scrape the damp material of his shirt. I stiffen up, clench internally.

  My cheeks feel too hot. The ceiling fan does nothing to cool the room down.

  “Almost done.” I have to catch myself not to whimper a puppy pout of a sound.

  His fingers touch the side of my face while putting on my glasses. The soles of my feet press into the carpet, toes curling as if to try and hold me still.

  “Perfect.” He says it as if it pains him.

  Before I can look at his face, he peels a layer off his body. There’s something about watching him take one of his shirts off. The way he grabs the collar from behind his head and pulls up and off.

  “It’s hot in here.” I notice it’s stifling hot; the wet hair clings to the back of my shirt. He has a fine layer of shine to his neck and face.


  Our eyes meet.

  “What do you think?” He strokes the outside of my ear, one of his hands on my bare thigh. It’s heavy, weighty, and warm.

  He looks slightly uncomfortable as our eyes lock on each other’s. “Say something.” The sound of him has dropped low and is full of breath. He chews on his lower lip, dragging it inside his mouth.

  It takes a while to uncurl my hand from the bedspread, to raise up and touch the side of his face. A sound cracks through his throat, low with a rumbling range.

  The pads of my fingers feel down his smooth jawline, the first time I’ve seen him without a full beard. I let my finger slide underneath his lower lip, feeling how he fits together. His mouth is barely open; he’s breathing through his nose.

  His eyes appear sharper, trained on my face.

  My hands feel his hair that’s cut close to his scalp. I lift up slightly to feel the back of his head with my hands; our cheeks get close to the other’s.

  His hand climbs up my thigh, resting where his shirt ends. Blunt nails run back down my thigh, back up as the material of his shirt inches upwards. There’s something primal that comes through his shirt to press into my chest.

  My insides clench deeper, and a small sound escapes out of my throat.

  I watch this male’s eyes, hungry. His pupils are dilated, the black growing darker, nose flared, and he looks about to shift through his skin.

  The soft seam of his lips brushes across my cheek. “I’m not good at this, Treajure.” Words press against my ear; no one but us could hear him right now.

  He drags his cheek across mine before pulling away. He stands to smooth down his shirt. Cassius plays with his face as if he still has a wild beard.

  “Goodnight, Specs.” He opens and closes the door before I even have time to catch my breath. My heart’s in my throat, and I have this unexplained pressure deep down between my legs.