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We all troop back into the house, and Cleo dashes off to the table to show me her latest art project.

“I hope she wasn’t too much of a handful?” I ask Susan, setting my work bag on the small entryway table.

“No more than usual,” she replies, fetching her coat. “Your Cleo is a bright little thing. She’s going places, that one!”

I smile in agreement and hand an envelope of cash to our nanny. “I have tomorrow off, so we will see you Thursday?” I confirm as I walk her out the door.

She smiles and nods at me and I close the door behind her.

When I turn around, Cleo is waiting for me. She has a collage in her hands and, at the center of it, is a large black wolf. Immediately, I think of Austin and I stifle my gasp, crouching down on her level to better see her art.

How could she know?

“Miss Susan helped me!” she says, proudly. “It’s a wolf. He’s sad.”

My heart aches and I press a kiss to her head.

“I’m sorry the wolf is sad,” I whisper, closing my eyes for a moment to pull myself together. “Do you think it would make the wolf happier if we had macaroni for dinner?”

She cheers and I press a final kiss to her head before walking back to my small bedroom to change. Once I’m in my house clothes, I start dinner, making the macaroni and cheese that my young daughter loves so much.

I watch her from my vantage point in the kitchen as she plays with her stuffed animals, her long black hair pulled back in a braid.She’s Austin’s clone.The same black hair, the same slightly crooked nose. The same dimple when she smiles.

Sometimes, late at night, I let myself wonder what would have happened if I had stayed and told Austin about my pregnancy.

Would he have stepped up and been a partner and a father, or would he have rejected us both? Would he have learned to love us both? Or even just her?

The not knowing was part of my agonizing decision to stay away. I can handle his rejection of me, but I could never stand by and watch if he ever rejected her.

It’s better this way. She won’t ever have to feel the kind of emotional pain I did,I tell myself as I stir the cheese sauce onto the pasta.

“Dinner’s ready,” I call out, making Cleo giggle and run to the table. I dish up her plate and set it before her. She gobbles itdown with gusto and I laugh when she gets cheese sauce on her nose.

We go through our bedtime routine of bath, book, and then a song. When I finally tuck her in, her beautiful eyes drifting shut the second her head hits the pillow, a pang of loneliness hits me.

I creep out of her room, closing the door gently. The feeling of loneliness is so strong, it almost takes my breath away.

I put on the kettle and lean against the kitchen island. The life I have here is a good one. Many who leave the pack have to return because they learn they can’t make it out here in this world.

I’ve not only survived, I’ve thrived. I have more than I ever thought was possible for me right now, yet I still long for the connection to my roots. I look forward to my monthly conversations with Callie. The old Seer has kept me up to date with random tidbits of pack life and been a wonderful support to me from afar. I love her dearly. I consider calling her tonight, but it’s late and I don’t want to wake her. I fix my cup of tea and pick up my phone. There’s only one person in my life who can fully understand what I’m going through: my dad.

He answers on the first ring.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s going on? How’s my grandbaby?”

I laugh and curl up in my chair with my phone and my mug. “She’s causing trouble, as usual,” I joke. “Poor Susan looked ready to bolt when I got home. How are things with you?”

My dad’s laugh echoes from the phone, and I settle in to listen as he tells me about his work in the city, and the people he’s met recently. He’s always sure to pass on tidbits of pack news thathe’s come across. I encourage him to share the information he comes across in the secret hope that one day, he might tell me how Austin is. But he never does. I hear about weddings, babies being born, deaths, and even battles, but not Austin. My father may have left the pack years ago, but he’s still connected to his friends. The memories of his mate, my late mother, were just too entrenched on our pack lands for him to stay. It was far less painful for him to live away.

“Did you hear the news about the peace accords with the Highland Pack?” he asks, suddenly.

I blink in surprise, stirring my tea before answering. “No.”

There was a time when I thought peace with the Highland Pack would be impossible.

My father clears his throat.

“Oh, well, there was an agreement reached—between the Alphas,” he hedges.