Heartsong (Green Creek Book 3)

by TJ Klune

  I stared at her with wide eyes. “Really?”

  She grinned. “Really.”

  “Mysterious,” I whispered.

  “What was that?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not…. It doesn’t matter. Just something Kelly told me once. Did… does he still have mine? I mean, it’s okay if he doesn’t, I get that a lot has happened, and he doesn’t have to—”

  “Look in the drawer.” She nodded toward the nightstand.

  I did with shaking hands.

  There, lying on a felt cloth, was another stone wolf. It was markedly similar to the one Elizabeth now held. The style, the pose, the stance. There were different cuts in the stone. The one in the drawer looked as if it’d been carved with a clumsier hand, but it was so close to the one I’d carried with me. They looked like a set, like they belonged together.

  Elizabeth didn’t say a word as I took the other wolf from her and placed it on the cloth next to Kelly’s. I pushed them together. It was one thing to hear that I mattered. It was something else entirely to have evidence of it.

  I closed the drawer, knowing they’d be safe there.

  Elizabeth allowed me a moment to collect my thoughts. I wiped my face before motioning for her to continue.

  She took out my mother’s driver’s license next. She smiled at the photograph. “Beatrice.”

  “Yeah. She… ah. She was a good person.”

  “I know she was. I knew her only briefly, but she was a light. I could see that even though we were both young. I’m so sorry that she’s not here to see you as you are and all you’ve become.”

  I nodded and looked away.

  She went through the rest of the contents of the backpack. There was a pinecone from a forest. A flower pressed between the pages of an old romance about pirates. A photograph, the edges bent, of me surrounded by cubs. She was blue when she saw it, but it didn’t last. It filled with something sharper, something that felt like a great, lumbering beast.

  She slowly pulled out the leather journal.

  The backpack slid from her lap.

  “Where did you find this?” she whispered.

  “In Caswell,” I said, suddenly unsure. “It was in Michelle’s office. I… I know it sounds crazy, but I think I was meant to find it. I didn’t read it,” I added quickly. “At least not beyond the first couple of pages. But it didn’t belong to her. I don’t know why she kept it or even if she knew it was there.”

  “She did,” Elizabeth said. “Nothing would have escaped her attention. The bigger question is why she kept it at all.” She looked at me. Tears fell freely now. “You’ve had it this entire time, haven’t you? Because of what you said that first day.”

  I nodded, feeling like shit. “‘To my beloved. Never forget.’ I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I was scared.”

  “Why now?” She didn’t sound angry, and her scent was filled with tempered grief.

  “Because it’s yours, and no one else should ever get to touch it unless you give them permission to do so. I don’t mean to make you sad.”

  “I know. Thank you, Robbie. I haven’t seen this in years. I don’t think Thomas meant to leave it behind. But things were complicated back then.” She opened the journal, and I felt like I was intruding on something private. She traced a finger over the slanted writing that filled the pages. She took in a shuddering breath as she began to flip through the journal. “I wonder….”

  I wanted to ask, but I didn’t think she would hear me.

  It didn’t take long until she reached the back of the journal. She looked disappointed for a moment, but then her eyes lit up. “You sneak. Of course.”

  She ran a finger over the back cover. There were tight black threads on one edge that I hadn’t noticed before. A claw grew from the tip of one of her fingers, and she sliced through the threads. I was alarmed that she felt the need to destroy her husband’s journal, but before I could say anything, she pulled out an envelope.

  And then another.

  And then another.

  Three small squares that I hadn’t known were there.

  Her smile trembled. “There you are. I thought you’d been lost.” She looked up at me, eyes bright. “Thank you, Robbie. You don’t know what this means to me. For us. For our family. For our pack. This is a wonderful gift. And now I have something for you.”

  She handed me one of the envelopes.

  On the front was the same handwriting from the journal. For Kelly’s Future.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “It’s for you,” she said. “And there’s one for Ox and one for… well. We’ll know when Carter knows.”

  I looked up at her. “About what?”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Not now.” She closed the journal in her lap, keeping the other two envelopes on the top. “My husband wrote you a letter.”

  I blinked. “Me? But I didn’t know him.”

  “Hypothetical you,” she said, running her fingers over the other envelopes. “Whoever Kelly chose to spend his life with. When the day came that Kelly would find his mate, Thomas planned on giving whoever it was this letter. He wrote one for each of his sons. He always planned on being here when it happened.”

  She stood then, bending over and kissing Kelly on the forehead. She squeezed my shoulder before heading toward the door. She paused and said, “You deserve every happiness. Remember that.” And then she was gone.

  The room was quiet, with only the sounds of Kelly’s slow, shallow breaths interrupted by the occasional sniffle. I looked down at the envelope again. I was scared to open it. I didn’t know if I deserved this, didn’t know if I could be the man an Alpha king would have chosen for his son.

  But it wasn’t about his choice.

  It was about mine.

  And Kelly’s.

  I opened the envelope. There were two pages filled with the same script.

  Hello—

  I write this on a sunny day.

  I think that’s important.

  It’s a sunny day, and my son Kelly Abel Bennett has just turned thirteen years old. He’s tall and gangly, not having yet grown into his limbs. He’s smart, much smarter than I’ll ever be. It’s almost scary, if I’m being honest. He’s quiet, and sometimes I worry that he spends too much time in his head. I don’t always understand him (can one ever completely understand their children?), and there are times that I think him a mystery that I am desperate to solve.

  Being a father isn’t as I expected it to be. It’s hard; there are days when I second-guess myself, days when I’m sure I’ve ruined them forever. This life… it’s not easy. The Bennett name isn’t quite a curse, but I sometimes think it is. We have been through much, and Kelly has seen the aftermath of what happens when someone tries to take everything away from us.

  When Elizabeth was first pregnant with Carter, my father told me that I would spend the rest of my life in a constant state of fear. Even though my children would be wolves, he said, they were still fragile. Still capable of hurt and pain and suffering. It is a father’s duty to protect them at all costs. He told me of the days when they would hate me, days when they would think I was the stupidest person alive. Days when I’d want to pull my hair out and question everything I’d ever done.

  But those days, my father told me, would be few and far between.

  Because a child is a gift.

  Kelly isn’t like his brothers. Carter is headstrong and blunt. He will make a fine second one day. Joe is going to be the Alpha, and with that will bear the responsibilities that come with the power and the title.

  But Kelly….

  He’s something different, I think.

  Something more.

  I wonder about you. Who you are. What you’re doing at this exact moment. Are you a man or a woman? Are you a witch or a wolf? Are you human? Do you smile and laugh and see the world for all it has to offer, for all it takes away?

  Kelly is a mystery.

  But he’s not unknowable
.

  Here is what I know about my second son:

  He prefers to spend time alone. If he’s not alone, he’ll be with Carter. Carter, as he’s wont to do, will think himself Kelly’s protector. It comes with being the eldest and with being each other’s tether. But what he doesn’t know—and what I’ve only recently come to understand—is that Kelly is fierce and brave, and he might be Carter’s protector just as much as Carter is his.

  He wonders about all manners of things. Yesterday, for example, he asked me about our territory and why it felt different there than it does here in Maine. I didn’t know quite how to explain it to him. I can’t even be sure I know myself. When I told him as much, he wasn’t disappointed. Instead he asked me to come with him. We went outside and wandered through the forest, just the two of us. I felt guilty for a moment, not able to remember the last time we’d done this. With everything that has happened to us these last years, my attention has been elsewhere.

  We went deep into the woods. He stopped after what must have been a few miles in a part of the forest I hadn’t been in for years. It wasn’t much different than any other part of the woods that comprise our territory. I wanted to ask why: why here, why this place, what drew him to this specific spot. But I waited.

  He sat down next to a tree, his back to it. He took off his shoes, his toes digging into the grass. He patted the ground beside him, squinting up at me. His hair was too long. He had to brush it off his face. I was completely charmed by this skinny quiet boy and could only do what he’d asked.

  And we sat there for almost two hours without saying a word.

  Eventually he broke the silence.

  Do you know what he said?

  “I think any place can be special if you try hard enough.”

  And that was it.

  Simple, really.

  But the more I think about it, the more I parse through those twelve words, the more I understand he wasn’t just talking about a territory.

  He was talking about his entire world. His entire world was special because we’re in it.

  And this is Kelly in a nutshell: simple, at a cursory glance, but just underneath, there is life teeming wildly. In his chest beats a tremendous heart, something so vast and extraordinary that it takes my breath away. He is a light, a beacon in what can seem like a never-ending darkness. A world in which he does not exist is a world I cannot even begin to comprehend. Carter made me a father by simply being born. But Kelly has helped me understand what it means to be a father, and all that it entails.

  I don’t know you, whoever you are. But you must be someone who knows the light he is. If he has chosen you (and you were smart enough to choose him back), then I know he’ll be in good hands. Appreciate him. Love him. Never take him for granted. If you can do these things, then I promise that you will know what true love is. Kelly will never do anything to harm you, at least not intentionally. I think he would rather hurt himself than anyone else.

  He’s not fragile. No, that’s not a word I’d ever use to describe him.

  But he must be protected at all costs, because he deserves it.

  I don’t know you.

  But I can’t wait to.

  I can’t wait to witness what blooms between the two of you.

  Knowing Kelly as I do, it might be hard, at first. But give it time, grant him patience, and you will be justly rewarded beyond anything you could possibly imagine.

  I sit here on this sunny day, light streaming in through an open window, imagining what the moment will be like. When he comes to me and tells me he’s met his mate (though I’ll admit to never really finding that word to be entirely adequate). He’ll be nervous about it, I think, and his brow will be furrowed, and he’ll ask questions, so many questions, and will probably be wishing he was anywhere but here, but he’ll be fighting back a smile, and he will look as if he’s burning from the inside out. I know this. I know this.

  Cherish each other. Love each other with your whole hearts. Don’t ever lose sight of what’s important. And that, my unknown friend, is easier said than done, and makes me a hypocrite. I can see that now clearer than ever. But if you learn with each other and grow together, then there is nothing that will stop you from becoming the people you’re supposed to be.

  I can’t wait to meet you.

  But I hope you understand that I’ll be fine with waiting on that meeting for a time. Because when he gives you his heart, it will no longer be mine to hold. And I want to hold on to it for as long as I’m able.

  Whoever you are, you are loved.

  Never doubt that.

  You are loved.

  Yours,

  Thomas Bennett

  “Are you crying?” a weak voice asked.

  I looked up at Kelly as I wiped my eyes. He blinked slowly. He was pale, and he coughed wetly, but he was concerned too, and was trying to reach for me.

  I stood quickly and went to him. I pushed him gently back down on the bed, ignoring his protestations. He settled back against his pillow, frowning. His nose was running, and he had dark circles under his eyes, but I didn’t know if I’d ever seen someone such as him before in my life. He was like the sun.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. His frown deepened. “I’m not dying, right?”

  I laughed, though it sounded broken. “No,” I managed to say as I sat on the edge of the bed. “No, you’re not dying. And you won’t be. Not until we’re very, very old.”

  “Oh. That’s good to know.”

  “I think so too.”

  “What’s that?” He pointed at the letter.

  I didn’t hesitate.

  I gave it to him.

  He sniffled as he took it, pushing himself up so he was propped against his headboard. He looked down at the writing, and his eyes widened. “This is….” He traced a finger over the words like I’d given him a great gift. “Where did you get this?”

  “Your mother gave it to me.”

  He looked up at me. “And it’s for you?”

  I nodded. “For both of us, I think.”

  And then he began to read, eyes darting back and forth. A moment later his hands began to shake. He started to cry silently. I put my hand on his knee over the blanket. When he finished the second page, he started again from the beginning.

  Eventually he set the pages aside. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, throat working. He said, “I remember that day. When we went to the woods. Just him and me. I don’t…. It wasn’t as profound as he was making it out to be. I was a little jealous that he was spending so much time with Joe, even though Joe needed it after all he’d been through.” He coughed, and I handed him another tissue. He smiled before using it to wipe his nose. He pushed his knee up against my hand. I never thought about moving it. “It was dumb, you know? Being jealous over something like that. But I didn’t know any better. So I made up something about the territory that I told him I’d been thinking about, and he didn’t question it.”

  “Just because it wasn’t profound to you doesn’t mean it wasn’t for him,” I said quietly.

  “You think so?”

  “I do.”

  He looked down at the pages sitting on the bed. “I wish….” He shook his head. “I wish for many things. That I was a wolf again. That nothing bad would ever happen to any of us ever again. That you were….” He sucked in a sharp breath. “But I’m not a wolf. And I can’t stop whatever the future has in store for us. And you are as you are. And I don’t know if I can change any of that. But it doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “No,” he said. “Because even though I’m not a wolf, and even though shit is always flung at us, and even though you don’t remember everything we had, you’re still here.” He smiled, and it trembled. “You said we.”

  I looked down at my hand on his knee. “What do you mean?”

  “I asked you if I was dying. And you said no, and that I wouldn’t until we were very, very old.”

  My face grew warm.
“Oh. Um. Well. That’s….”

  “Good. That’s good.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes.”

  You are loved.

  He burned so bright. It was all grass and lake water and sunshine, and I wanted nothing more than to have it for my own.

  I said, “Kelly?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I kiss you?”

  He gaped at me.

  I waited nervously, forcing myself not to fidget or take the words back.

  He grimaced. “Oh Christ. You’re serious. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you not hear what I sound like? Something must be wrong with your eyes too, because I’m leaking from almost every opening I have. And I can’t even begin to imagine what I must smell like to you—”

  I kissed him.

  Again.

  For the first time.

  His eyes were open, and my eyes were open, and I was drowning in him, drowning in this, and I didn’t want to be saved. I wanted it to close over my head and pull me down until all there was in this world was him.

  It was chaste, this kiss. I saw a tear trickle from his right eye before I closed my own. I was about to pull away, sure I’d gone too far, when he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, holding me in place. He sighed against my lips, and I wondered if this was happiness, if this clawing in my chest was how I felt when we’d done this before. Because if it was, then I understood why Gordo had said I must have fought like hell. If someone had tried to take this away from me, the memory of him and the way he felt against me, I would have done everything in my power to fight back.

  Even as I felt consumed by him, a low, fiery hatred burned in the pit of my stomach at the thought that it had been taken from me.

  My pack.

  My home.

  My mate.

  Eventually he pulled away, eyes wide. “Wow,” he whispered.

  “Wow,” I whispered back to him.

  “I’m still pretty gross.”

  “You are.”

  He snorted. “And I feel like crap.”

  “I know.”

  He looked shyly at me. “But….”

  “But?”

  He shrugged before jerking his head toward the other side of the bed.