Page 140 of Lavender and Honey

They hate him. They hate him and this pack and me for making them look weak, and small, and helpless. They thought this would be their last chance to bring me back. They were so sure they would win, so sure I'd be too scared to commit to anything this drastic.

They leave behind an echo, a sudden weight of silence and dust. I wait for Lucian to ask if I'm okay, to ask if I'm going to regret what I've done. But he doesn't. I feel him draw me closer. "So you love us," Soren says, a hint of surprise in his voice. "All of us."

There's a lightness in his words, an almost impossible brightness. My parents’ voices still ring, telling me I'll regret this, telling me I have no idea what I'm getting into. But they are gone. All that's left is their echo and the clean, bright space they couldn't touch.

Lucian is holding me against him, a presence more real than anything else, more solid than I ever hoped.

"Is that true?" Soren says, pressing closer, not letting me pretend like I haven’t heard him. "All of us?" His voice is a challenge and a tease, daring me to answer, daring me to admit it all over again.

"Lydia?" Elias asks, watching from behind a careful, soft gaze. He's as unsure as the rest of them, just as surprised. But there is no trace of doubt in his eyes, no trace of it in any of them.

It is so easy to breathe now, with Lucian close and their warmth surrounding me. It's so easy to know this is the truest thing I've ever done. I almost want to laugh at their surprise. Didn't they know? Didn't they guess?

"All of you," I say, finally, each word bright with truth.

Finn nods, his smile slow and wide and full. "That's good," he says, like I've just put together a puzzle that they thought I'd never solve.

"That's better than good," Soren says, relief and humor playing in his eyes. They all thought I'd take longer, that I was still deciding, still figuring it out. They thought it would take another month, another year, maybe longer. I surprised them as much as I surprised myself, as much as I surprised my parents.

Lucian doesn't say a thing, but I can feel him behind me, supporting me, more sure and certain than ever.

They thought it would take a small eternity, I think. But the truth is, it took me this long just to say it. Just to believe it enough to speak it out loud. Just to be sure enough to take the leap and let go.

Elias is still watching, still a little unsure of what to make of it all. "You're really ready?" he asks, voice a soft hope. "You're really okay with this?"

He has always worried the most, always been the one who thought I might bolt if anything scared me, if anything seemed too big or too permanent. But this is different. This is forever, like I always wanted.

"I'm better than okay," I say. Lucian's arms tighten around me, pulling me in until the whole world is bright and true and complete. The space left by my parents’ exit is full, more full than I could have imagined, more full than even I hoped when I made the choice to tell them, to tell him, to tell everyone.

There's more than just relief in that space now. There's joy, deep and sure and undeniable.

Chapter Seventy-Nine

Dishes clink and clang in the kitchen sink, an off-key symphony to accompany the lingering smell of dinner and the fragile balance that waits in the air. My head feels thick, stuffed with the echoes of today. I'm adrift in them when Lucian calls, "Pack meeting time!" from across the room, his voice somehow gentler and more demanding than usual. I find my way to the couch and settle in, folding into its embrace and feeling the pull of everything that is about to be spoken.

The others trail behind me, their footsteps a hushed procession. Soren and Elias plop down near me, flanking my sides with warmth and an easiness that doesn't match the tremor inside. Lucian perches on the arm of a chair, his confidence an anchor that leaves me floating, buoyant and without tether. He regards the room with a casual certainty that I both envy and fear.

He raises an eyebrow, voice gentle but firm. "Just wanted to check in on everyone," he says, the hint of a challenge in his words, “and see how things went today."

I see the others exchange glances, the kind that come with shared histories and open futures. I try to keep my focus on the woven pattern of the rug, losing myself in its threads like the way I’ve tangled my own life with theirs. But the pull is too strong; their eyes are on me, waiting.

Lucian nods, catching my unsteady gaze. "I think we're all wondering," he continues, "how you're feeling about the next steps, and when you want to take them."

The weight of the moment is as real as the body sinking next to mine, Elias' hand gently brushing my arm. "We've been waiting for you," he says, softly, so different from how he called me today. The words are a kind of shelter and a promise I’m not sure I can keep.

They hold their silence like breath, each second stretching into the empty spaces between my thoughts. I gather them, pieces of a life I almost lost and another I might still. My voice feels distant, as though trying to speak from behind glass. "Today was..." I pause, feeling the catch of truth against what I should say. "Intense."

Elias' fingers give a slight squeeze, the physical pressure countering the more profound weight I feel. Soren leans forward, a lazy smile touching his lips. "You did good," he tells me, as if I'm the last to know.

His affirmation sits heavy in my chest. This morning, I was the woman who ran from what it meant to be me. Now they see someone else, someone who can hold her own, even among the best of their kind. Even with them.

Lucian nods, confirming what the others don’t say. "We know it’s a lot to take in," he offers. "But you handled it."

I manage a small, wavering smile, even as my heart beats in patterns that no longer match my own. They’re being kind, I tell myself, even as the meaning behind it unravels in my mind: they think I'm ready. More than ready.

I let the question spin its thread through my resolve. Lucian looks around the room, inviting more words into the space I haven’t filled. "Maybe the marking," he suggests, almost to himself, "could happen sometime soon. When we're all ready for it."

The others take this as their cue, their voices folding into each other. Soren, flippant and light, talks about not wasting any time. Elias, more measured, considers my comfort. Finn, usually the quietest, surprises me with his insistence that everyone gets time off, suggesting that the moments they crave are more than they’ve been able to share. They all speak with the kind of confidence that I'm not sure how to carry yet. I hear them talking logistics, but I see something else: I see the heart of this moment, and I'm not sure if it can stretch to fit everything I want, everything they need from me.

---