Page 24 of Golden Desires

“You ready to meet Ma?” Cillian asks, and I nod with excitement.

“I am. Her home is breathtaking,” I tell him, letting him see how genuine my words are as I meet his eyes, and Cillian graces me with a grin that lights his face up.

“She’ll be glad to hear you say so. Come on, I can feel her excitement from here,” he chuckles. “Kylan came down yesterday and let her know we were bringing you by today.” He greets the hound that ambles over and introduces the graying old boy as Fox.

Before I can move to greet the hound, the slamming of a door draws my attention to the cottage.

“Boys!” the older woman says brightly, and as the sun shines down on her through the parted trees, my lungs seize, and I stumble forward a step. “I am so excited to meet you! Kylan refused to tell me your name. He insisted I hear it from you, so you’ll have to forgive me. My name is–”

“Alma…” I whisper, as tears fill my eyes, and a body rocking sob escapes my chest. “Aunt Alma…” The smile falls from her face, as she comes to a stop at the gate of her fence. She stares at me for a moment, before gasping.

“Goldie… No, it can’t be…” She shakes her head like she doesn’t believe it’s me. “Oh, my sweet one…” she whispers, her voice cracking as she swings the gate open, and walks over to me in a hurry.

My tears fall freely, as something in my heart aches deeply. I thought she was dead. I never imagined I’d see her again, and nearly sixteen years later, here she is.

“Is it really you?” I whisper, feeling like I’ve just stepped into a dream. Alma scoops me into her arms, hugging me more fiercely than I expected.

“It’s me, sweet one. It’s really me,” her voice cracks, as she tries to hold back her emotions, probably trying to be strong for me.

“What’s happening?” Kylan asks from somewhere behind me, but all my attention is on the woman holding me. She smells so familiar, as a feeling I had long forgotten blooms in my chest. Family. Happiness. Love. Unconditional, unrelenting love.

“Ma is Goldie’s aunt,” Aldair says, sounding just as confused as Kylan.

“Where have you been?” I can’t help but demand through the tightness in my throat. I’m overwhelmed, not sure if I want to keep crying or demand answers. Why’d she leave me?

“Here, Goldie, I’ve been here. Come inside, there’s so much to discuss.” Alma sniffs, releasing me from the hug, only to take my hand and start pulling me toward her home.

“Do you want some space, Ma?” Aldair asks, and she nods.

“Thank you, boys. I’ll come find you when we’re ready.” She reaches out to pat Aldair’s shoulder as we pass him, and he inclines his head to her, before he glances my way. He doesn’t say anything, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking as he takes in the sight of Alma holding my hand as we both cry.

“Thank you,” I whisper, meeting his eyes. I’m so fucking overwhelmed, but one thing I know for certain. My instincts about these three Alphas were right.

I know they’ll never harm me, because they were raised by my mother’s older sister, who loved and adored me beyond measure, and because of them, she and I are reunited sixteen years after I thought she died.

“I left because I was being accused of causing your mother’s death,” Alma sighs once we’re inside with a cup of tea each. She pushes her blonde hair, so much like my own, off her neck as she sits next to me. We’re pressed together on her old, but very comfortable couch. “I had expected your father would protect you. Treat you well. He loved your mother so much.” Alma sniffs, and I let out a sad scoff.

“He married Talia three days after she died. Allowed her to abuse me, abused me himself, and then sold me to Donald when I was sixteen. The wedding was supposed to be two days ago, but I ran,” I spit the words at her, my venom for the people who hurt me, not my aunt, but I can tell they land like a physical blow. “Your…sons,” I add, even though I know Alma is a rare Delta, who can’t have children. And Aldair is older than I am. “They found Bear, and I guess I found them.”

“I found them once, too. The same day I ran.” Alma lets out a heavy sigh, as she turns to face me, taking my hand in hers once she puts her cup of tea down. “They’re not mine, as I’m sure you know. But their history is their story to tell. Give them time, and they’ll reveal everything to you.” She waits for me to nod, before continuing. “All I will say is that their parents died that day too, so I took them in because they had no one else, and it was the right thing to do. But I love them like they’re my own. The way your mother loved you. I’m sorry I didn’t bring you with me, Goldie. I thought your father was a better man. I assumed you would be safer with him, than on the run with me.” Tears glisten in her eyes before streaking down her cheeks.

“I believe you, and I forgive you. You couldn’t have known he’d turn against me so badly,” I whisper, not wanting to talk about my father any longer. I can’t help but wonder what the Alpha’s stories are. Their parents died the same day my mother died. The day I lost Alma, was the day she found them. We share a bond of tragedy.

“What do you say I look at your arm now, hmm?” she asks, and I smile.

“Please. Though it’s not feeling as bad as before,” I admit as she rises to grab her supplies.

“Come sit, while I grab everything.” She gestures to her table closer to the kitchen. The homey cottage is just as quaint on the inside as it was charming on the outside. Herbs and dried flowers sit on a collection of shelves in pretty arrangements that I am sure have some purpose.

The little table we currently sit at holds a beautiful constellation carving that I am betting was carved by the same craftsman as the table at home. We’re quiet, as Alma takes off the bandage Cillian gave me, and inspects my injury.

“This looks fantastic for only two days of healing,” she says, prodding it to check my response to the pain, before she rubs something smelling of herbs all over the slightly bruised area. I frown as I look at the wrist I was sure was broken.

“Maybe I heal fast, after so many injuries,” I chuckle, trying to shake off the darkness of my past with a joke, but Alma doesn’t laugh. Instead, she gives me a look filled with sadness and sympathy. It’s as she quietly studies my face that I notice a scar on her cheek that she doesn’t bother hiding. That wasn’t there the last time I saw her.

It looks old, and a little jagged. As she works on wrapping my arm, she glances up and catches me staring at it. I look away quickly, but Alma just smiles gently.

“A conversation for another day,” she says simply.

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