by Zoe Chant
He couldn't think of anywhere better to live. He wanted to shift and run through the hills and forests, digging his claws into the dirt, scaling trees and leaping from rock to rock. Just inhaling the mountain air seemed to clean out the dull patina that had been building around him after years in the city.
So he knew what he wanted: he wanted to leave Washington and come be with Mavis in Glacier. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind.
And even if there had been, Mavis shouldn't worry, because he would never, ever ask her to leave her daughter. If he'd had to sacrifice something he wanted for himself, he would have done it in a second.
But he didn't. This was what he wanted.
The problem, though, was the pack. Cal was the pack leader, but he still had that instinct to defer to Wilson, after years spent on opposite sides of the officer-enlisted divide.
Wilson would have to tread very delicately to avoid disrupting Cal's pack. Which was the last thing he wanted to do.
Maybe he could set himself up as more of a loner, out here. Or maybe there was another pack he could join—if not more snow leopards, then one of those multi-shifter packs that occasionally popped up in places with high concentrations of different shifter types. Looking at it from a certain angle, shifter units in the military were essentially that, with an officer as the alpha.
Wilson would figure it out. For the moment, he'd make absolutely sure to keep himself out of Cal's pack hierarchy. There was no question about who was the leader of that pack, and Wilson didn't want to change that at all.
Mavis came over from the dance floor, smiling and breathing hard after doing some kind of fast dance to a pop song. Nina had dragged her out to dance with the younger pack women, and Mavis had gone with only a token protest.
Wilson smiled at her. "Something to drink?"
"Please," Mavis panted.
Wilson got her a glass of water and pulled out a chair for her. "That looked fun."
Mavis nodded. "It was. But of course, I'm not twenty-five anymore. Or a shifter, come to that. That's probably my one fast dance for the evening."
"Nina looks like she's having a great time, though," he offered.
The smile that spread across Mavis' face was beautiful—happy, tender, grateful, all rolled into one gorgeous expression. Wilson knew he was always going to love how Mavis spoke about her daughter. "She's loving it," Mavis said. "She told me three separate times that she doesn't know how to dance, until Teri pulled her into a spin and insisted that it didn't matter one bit, all that mattered was having fun. And she's sure doing that."
"Good," Wilson said. "I hope she won't mind that you and I..."
Mavis rolled her eyes. "Are you kidding? She was ready to ‘accidentally’ lock us in a closet or something. She's always worried that I'm lonely."
"Are you?" Wilson thought about moving to a new town alone, well into middle age, when everyone's social circles were usually pretty fixed—especially in a small town like this. And right after a bad divorce, too. It must have been hard.
Mavis shrugged, a small motion that suggested at larger feelings beneath it. "I've gotten to know the locals pretty well, I think," she said. "But those are mostly friendly business connections, if I'm honest. The pack are all very nice to me, but they're so young. Except Cal and Lillian, and they're caught up in starting their family. And, well..." She trailed off.
"Well?" Wilson prompted.
"Well," she said slowly, "I was going to say that when the pack gets together, it's usually very apparent that they're all coupled off. I mean, they're so happy, it's hard to miss, even if they're not all holding hands or what-have-you. And that can be a bit lonely. But now..." She smiled at him.
Deliberately, Wilson reached out and took her hand. And at that moment, the loud pop song faded out, and a slower tune started up. Wilson met Mavis' beautiful brown eyes and smiled. "May I have this dance?"
Mavis looked started, and then wondering. She squeezed his hand. "Of course."
Wilson stood and led her out onto the dance floor. He drew her into his arms, and together they swayed to the slow, sweet music. Mavis fit perfectly just under his chin, and the feeling of her tucked up against him was divine. And as he looked down at her, her eyes drifted closed and she laid her head against his shoulder, relaxing into his movements and letting him lead them in their graceful swaying dance.
Wilson wanted to freeze this moment, and keep it in his heart forever. His and Mavis' first dance.
Of course, he couldn’t stop time, so he just breathed in and enjoyed it. The warmth of his mate in his arms, the slow beat of the music, and the feeling of pure, undiluted happiness in his chest.
When it was over, Mavis lifted her head and looked up at him, a smile lingering on her lips. Wilson bent down and kissed her softly, then led her back to the table.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I don’t know when I last had a dance like that.”
“We can dance together every night, if you want,” he told her.
At his words, her face took on an expression he was starting to recognize—a combination of happiness and anxiety. He knew what it meant, now: he’d offered her something that she truly, deeply wanted, but she was afraid that it couldn’t be real.
Well, Wilson was just going to have to keep delivering on his promises, so that she’d understand that it was real, and that she could have her heart’s desire. He was going to give it all to her.
On the table, Mavis’ phone buzzed, and she fumbled for it, letting the moment slip away. Wilson resolved that there were going to be many, many more moments like this one, until that fear was entirely gone from her face, and only happiness remained.
But as she looked at her phone, the happiness drained away.
“What is it?” Wilson asked. The fear was noticeable now, an anxious set to her mouth and a deep, unhappy look in her eyes.
“It’s Daryl,” she said shortly.
Her ex. Wilson took a careful, deep breath, making sure to keep his voice steady and even. “Has he done something?”
“It’s an email from him,” she said. “I have to go to the house and get my things. He’s included a list of the things he considers to be mine.” Her mouth twisted. “It’s very fair. I suppose I should be grateful.”
“You have nothing to be grateful for from that—” Wilson made himself stop. Calling her ex-husband names wasn’t going to help the situation at all. “You have to go to the house personally?”
“That’s what he says. He says I need to come myself, and I can hire movers or whatever I need to do, but he’s not letting strangers inside. I guess he’s going to be there.” Mavis sighed. “So I suppose I’m going to have to see him again, if I want any of my things.”
“Do you need them?” Wilson asked tentatively.
“My mother’s jewelry is in that house,” Mavis said. “And some other sentimental things. I certainly don’t need the furniture—it’s nicer than what I have now, but that’s not very important.”
Mavis, Wilson vowed, was going to have the absolute nicest furniture once he moved out here. Local, handmade, beautiful pieces. He had the money, and he wanted her to choose whatever she wanted.
“But I do need to go out there, at least for the jewelry. I want Nina to have some of it,” Mavis finished. She rubbed her eyes. “I wish I’d waited to check my messages until the party was over. God, I have to look for plane tickets—he wants me there sometime in the next week.” She lifted her head and looked at Wilson. “I’m so sorry. This isn’t the sort of thing you need to hear about.”
“Mavis, we’re mates,” Wilson said firmly. “I want to hear about all of your problems.”
“Not this,” Mavis objected. “No one wants to hear about their partner’s ex drama.”
“Especially this.” Wilson took her hand and laced their fingers together. “He treated you and your daughter awfully. He made your life a living hell. If he’s causing you trouble again, I want to help you with it. Now, what day do
you want to fly out? Tomorrow?”
“I suppose...I suppose it would be better to get it over with.” Mavis frowned. “Why do you ask? What are you going to do?”
“Come with you.” Wilson made his tone absolutely convinced, as though it was a done deal. “You shouldn’t have to face him alone.”
“Oh, Wilson...” Mavis’ voice trailed off. She bit her lip. “You shouldn’t have to do something like this! And so soon after we met. No, I should go alone.”
“I would much, much rather come with you than stay here, knowing that you’re out there alone facing him,” Wilson said gently. “Can you tell me honestly that you’d be happier going alone, rather than having me come with you? Because if it would truly make it harder to have me there, I’ll stay behind.” He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping she wouldn’t decide to insist. He’d have to abide by his word, if so...and he really, really didn’t want to.
But she said, “Of course it would be easier if you were there! Of course I don’t want to go back into that house by myself, face Daryl by myself. But it’s such an incredible thing to ask.”
Wilson wrapped her hand up in both of his, leaned forward, and met her eyes. “Mavis, we’re mates now. In shifter terms, that’s stronger than marriage. This,” and he indicated the rest of the room, the wedding-goers and the bride and groom, with a jerk of his head, “is just the social trappings of what’s already been true for months, for Lillian and Cal. And the same is true for us. We’re one unit now, and your problems are my problems. So nothing can be an imposition, because it already belongs to me as much as to you. Okay?”
There was that look again. Fear that it couldn’t be true, but a dawning hope that it might be. Wilson lifted up their clasped hands and kissed her knuckles. “Will you let me come with you to get your things?”
Slowly, Mavis nodded, and the hope began to outweigh the fear. Wilson’s heart rejoiced.
***
Mavis squeezed Wilson’s hand as the airplane touched down on the runway, breathing deeply.
It had only been a couple of days now that they’d been together—maybe only twenty-four hours, if she counted just from the moment at the wedding when she’d said she believed him—but she was already getting used to the feeling of his big hand engulfing hers.
Wilson seemed happiest when they were touching somehow. He always wanted to hold her hand, to put his arm around her, squeeze her shoulder, kiss the top of her head. And Mavis was drinking it all in. She felt as though she’d been cold for over seven years, and finally, finally she got to luxuriate in the warmth coming off of him. Both literal and metaphorical.
As the plane taxied to a stop, Wilson squeezed her hand back. “Are you ready?”
“I am,” Mavis said positively.
And she felt like she was. It was crazy. Just having Wilson there suddenly made everything seem ten times easier.
Part of it was just that he’d insisted on taking care of all of the headachey administrative stuff himself. He’d booked the tickets and set up a rental car, gotten them a hotel room, worked out a place where they could stop and pick up a few boxes on the way, and generally made it so that it should be easy to get over to the house, get her things, and leave with minimal fuss.
Mavis had started to object to him paying for all of the travel fees as well, but he’d asked her to look on it as a gift.
“I can’t go back in time and undo what he did to you,” he said with quiet intensity. “I can’t get the police to cart him away for putting his own daughter on the streets. I know I can’t start a fight with him once we get there, as much as I want desperately to teach him a lesson—” He’d given her a questioning look, and she’d seen the anger lurking underneath it.
But Mavis had shook her head, semi-regretfully. She’d love for someone to give Daryl a seeing-to, but she didn’t want to have to watch it happen, and she definitely didn’t want Wilson to have to deal with any consequences for doing it.
“Well, then, I need to do something in exchange for not being able to do any of that. So I’m doing this.” His tone had been firm, and Mavis had finally nodded her acceptance.
So that was all taken care of for her.
It was completely bizarre. She’d spent seven years all alone, having turned her heart to stone so she didn’t break down completely over the fact that she was living with the man who’d forced her daughter away.
And then, once she’d left him, she’d handled the divorce proceedings herself as well. She’d wanted to shield Nina from even hearing about anything Daryl was doing, so she’d never mentioned one single thing about the divorce to anyone in Montana.
But suddenly, she wasn’t just able to talk about it, she was getting help. It made her want to start crying.
Now, though, it wasn’t the time for tears. It was time for action.
They made their way off the plane—Wilson took her overnight bag, holding it in one hand while he kept Mavis’ hand clasped in the other—got their rental car, and drove to the hotel where they were spending the night. Mavis was learning that traveling with a member of the military was very different from just traveling by herself: every ticket agent and rental employee and hotel concierge seemed to jump to attention, saying, “Yes, Colonel,” and, “Absolutely, Colonel,” and, “Let me just see if I can get that upgraded for you, Colonel. Thank you for your service.”
Wilson was always calmly gracious in the face of it, saying to Mavis afterward, “It’s a little embarrassing sometimes. I just have an office job like anyone else’s, these days. With a better pension plan, no less.”
“But you served in combat,” Mavis pointed out. “They’re honoring that.”
“Well,” he said, and that was all, but Mavis felt like it was nothing more than his due.
Finally, though, all of the little things were taken care of. They were checked in to their hotel, they had the rental car, they’d stopped for boxes, and they were on their way to the house.
Mavis felt anxiety rising in her as the car headed into her old neighborhood. She’d lived here for decades—and felt the worst pain of her life here.
“All right?” Wilson asked softly, and she just nodded, not trusting her voice.
He found the address easily, not needing any directions from her, and pulled into the driveway. Daryl’s car was already there, so he must be home.
Wilson turned off the car and looked at her. “If you want to leave at any point, tell me and we’ll leave,” he said steadily. “If Daryl makes any threats, or threatening moves, towards you, then I’ll step up and stop him.”
“No violence,” Mavis said, her voice shaky.
“I promise.” His voice was steady as a rock, and it calmed her somehow, leaving her certain that if something did go wrong, he’d take care of it without any trouble. “I’ve been a Marine for decades. I know how to defuse a situation without having to resort to violence. You don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to worry about anything, all right? If there’s a problem, you won’t be in any danger.”
“All right.” She already felt better, like his assurance was filling her up with warmth and courage.
He reached out, raising his eyebrows, and Mavis took his hand with a little smile and squeezed. It already felt like a ritual, the way they linked their fingers together during important moments.
She looked forward to repeating that ritual for years and years to come.
And that was what really calmed her. She didn’t need to worry about Daryl.
She had her mate with her. And he was going to be with her forever, from now on.
"Let's get this over with," she said to Wilson, and she could hear the confidence in her own voice as she opened the door and got out.
She rang the doorbell. On the one hand, it was strange: she was ringing the bell to the house where she'd lived for years.
But on the other hand, it felt like just one more step towards severing her connections to Daryl and her old, miserable life. She stood on the o
utside with Wilson, because the two of them belonged somewhere else. Here, they were just visiting.
The door jerked open and Daryl stood framed in the entryway.
Mavis had worried that she'd feel some kind of debilitating surge of emotion when she saw her ex-husband again for the first time in months. That she'd break down crying, or start yelling at him, or feel like she had to run away.
But—she didn't. Daryl was a man who'd hurt her badly, but she was leaving him behind. The only thing she felt was relief that she only had to be near him for a few minutes, and that Wilson was here by her side.
Daryl's eyes were fixed on Wilson. "Who's this?" he asked. "A hired mover?"
Not even a hello. Straight to a hostile interrogation.
"This is Wilson," Mavis said in crisp tones. "Will you let us in?"
There was a power in not explaining things. Mavis could've said, This is my new partner Wilson, but that would've invited Daryl to make some kind of nasty comment.
This way, though, Daryl was clearly left uncertain, and he stepped back to let them inside the house without saying anything.
That, of course, only lasted a few minutes. Mavis led the way to the bedroom, and Daryl followed them; when they reached the room, he said, "Getting your new boyfriend to come to your husband's home and take your things? That's a low-down move, Mavis."
Wilson tensed. Mavis put a hand on his arm, then indicated the closet where she kept her jewelry box. "Telling me to come here without any notice, and saying I had to come myself—that was a low-down move, Daryl," she said. "Did you want me to show up by myself so you could talk me in to staying? I'm never leaving Nina, and you should understand that by now."
"She's an unnatural creature!" Daryl spit out.
Mavis turned her back on him and followed Wilson into the closet. Wilson held the box while Mavis quickly checked over her jewelry. Nothing was missing, not that she’d expected anything to disappear. Daryl was a lot of bad things, but a thief wasn't one of them.
She took the jewelry, her favorite clothes, and then a few other sentimental pieces from the bedroom. She was finding that she didn't actually want too much of what was there, because it was all suffused with memories of the seven years she'd lived in this house as a shell of a woman, mourning her missing daughter.