Page 14

Yelena

Five years later

“Yelena!” My keys jingle in my hand as I turn to see who is calling me. Weston, one of the newest nurses on our team, comes running up.

“Did you need something, Wes?” I ask, curiously. Unlike most of the nursing staff at Ruby Clinic, Weston didn’t come to us from the university, but rather had experience as a medic in the military. He’s been a great addition to my team, but his knowledge of protocols and boundaries needs some work.

“I just wanted to know if you were free tonight,” he says, giving me a charming smile. “There’s live music over at the Marina Tavern and I thought you could come with me and get a drink.”

An uneasy feeling starts in the pit of my stomach, and I force a small smile. It’s not the first invitation I’ve received since I’ve worked here. My colleagues are nice enough, but as head nurse, I have to keep a firm boundary in place to prevent fraternization with my subordinates.

Weston is a nice guy, so I try to let him down gently.

“Oh, Weston. I’m sorry, I’m not available,” I reply. Due to my position, I can’t go out with colleagues.”

His face falls, and he nods, and the air between us suddenly feels awkward.

“Have you asked Kiera?” I suggest, thinking of my bubbly assistant. “She’s single and loves music!”

His face brightens a little, and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Maybe I’ll ask her. Thanks, boss.”

I nod and keep moving toward my car. It’s been a long day and I’m ready to get home.

As I unlock the car door, I glance back at the clinic where I've spent the last half decade of my life. The Ruby Clinic is a small, but well-regarded private clinic. Known for our embrace of both holistic and modern medicine, we have patients who travel for hours to come see us. It took me a long time to adjust to the more individualistic life that humans lead. At home, the pack is always there for each other. But here, life feels more isolated and lonely. Sure, I’ve made friends, but the inherent closeness that my wolf craves is never present.

At least my work has been successful. In the time I’ve been here, I’ve studied hard and taken every class and training offered to me. I’ve worked my way up from nursing assistant trainee all the way to my position now, as head of nursing services.

Sometimes, when I think of the day I came here—fresh from the pack, untrained and nervous.

It feels like it’s been a lifetime instead of only five years.

It was so hard at first. What little money I had brought with me was hardly enough.

My father tried to help where he could, but I never let him know just how bad it was.

Without a job, I was unable to rent an apartment or even have enough money to buy food.

Before I got the job at the clinic, I spent two weeks sleeping during the day in my car and working the clean-up crew at the local movie theater at night.

I shudder as I remember the taste of the stale popcorn I salvaged from the buckets each night.

I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy popcorn again.

When my situation became even more desperate, with two lines on a pregnancy test showing up when I least expected it, I considered returning home.

Giving up. But the Moon Goddess led me to the Ruby Clinic by way of a job posting I saw by chance in a newspaper.

It is only by Her grace that I was even granted an interview.

I cried when they offered me the job as a nursing assistant trainee.

The starting wage was enough to afford a small, studio apartment.

I still remember the day I got the keys.

I sat in the tiny, empty space, hugging my arms to my chest and praying that everything was going to work out.

I shake off the thoughts, finally sinking into my seat and starting the engine.

The trip home is automatic, every movement stitched into muscle memory.

My car glides along familiar roads until I park it in front of my modest townhouse.

I step out of the car and immediately, my instincts heighten.

That feeling of being watched makes a prickle of unease crawl across my skin.

I look around my quiet neighborhood, assessing it for threats.

There’s movement at the window of my house, and a small, familiar figure disappears from view behind the curtain.

I smile to myself and relax, ready for any surprise I will get.

Before I can even put my keys away, the door bursts open and a little girl darts out, an impish grin splitting her lovely face.

"Mommy!" she shrieks before launching herself into my arms. “Did I scare you?”

"Easy there, tiger," I laugh, hugging her tight as her nanny hobbles after her, panting.

“Sorry, Miss Yelena,” the nanny gasps, her hand on her chest. “Cleo got away from me when I was in the kitchen.”

I smile warmly at the older woman.

“It’s fine, Susan,” I reassure her, holding Cleo on my hip. “This little rascal can be a handful.”

Cleo giggles and leans her head on my shoulder, making my entire body glow with happiness.

She is, by far, the best thing I’ve ever done with my life. I thank the Moon Goddess every day for choosing me to be her mother.

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 it down 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 that he’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.

I’m curious. I want to ask if Austin was involved in helping to broker this peace deal. If it’s true and the Highland Pack sticks to it, it will be a huge win for our entire pack, and for Austin.

“What kind of deal was reached?” I ask, hoping he’ll give me the information I seek without me having to directly ask for it.

He’s silent for a minute. “It’s Alpha business, I’m sure more information will come out once it’s finalized,” he says, finally.

I feel like my father might be hiding something from me, but I don’t push it. It’s getting late and my tea is cold.

“Good night, Dad,” I say, with a yawn. Once the call is disconnected, I start my own nighttime routine.

Just as I’m finishing washing my face, I hear an ear-splitting yell coming from Cleo’s room.

“Mama!” Cleo shrieks.

Face still wet, I run, my skin tingling with protective instincts.

“What is it? What happened?” I ask, scanning the room. Cleo is sobbing, sitting in the middle of her bed with her face buried in her knees.

“Sweet girl,” I exclaim, rushing to her side. “Tell Mama what’s wrong.”

“I had a bad dream,” she sniffs, looking up at me with tear-filled eyes. “There were a bunch of wolves howling and then I saw a dead body. An old woman with a pretty blue necklace. She was lying on the bed and everyone around her was crying!”

I exhale slowly and draw her into my arms. “Oh, sweetheart. That sounds so scary!” I murmur, pressing a kiss into her hair. “But it was just a dream. You’re safe. I promise. Nothing can hurt you here.”

She sobs into my chest and I brush my hand down her back in soothing circles. It’s not the first time Cleo has woken up to bad dreams. All children have them from time to time. But this one was far more detailed than the others. I kiss her on the forehead and hold her close.

When she’s finally quieted her sobs to only a soft hiccup, I pull her into my arms and walk over to the rocking chair. She curls up in my arms and rests her head on my shoulder as I rock her, singing her the songs from our pack until she drifts back off to sleep.

There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do to protect my daughter.