Page 98 of Unforgivable

"Inuit! Stop yelling at your little brother right now! Come in here, pups, it's time to eat! Penny! Sarj, what did you do?" she scolds as both pups walk into the dining room. Sarj is shame-faced, and Inuit is fuming, stomping in, and sitting at the table will ill grace.

Penny is giggling madly. "Lyri, hi!" she squeals, running to meet me as I grab her, smothering her the same way mom has been squeezing me.

"I missed you so much," I tell her.

"Missed you, too," she says. She leans back, "I didn't even know that you were here!" She rolls her eyes at mom.

I smile. I can see why she and Inuit are such good friends.

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It's late when we leave. The street is dark and quiet. Most of the houses no longer have lights on. It reminds me of earlier, of being a ghost.

Rhet is the one who carries me into the house when I fall asleep in the truck on the drive back.

"Rhet?" I murmur sleepily.

"Hmm, pretty?"

"What happened to your mate?" I ask. I don't know why, maybe just because so much has happened today. I feel like I know Thjis and Ezra much more than this male.

Rhet silently takes off my shoes and jacket, then my jeans. I wiggle out of my bra, leaving me in just undies and a t-shirt. He strips down to nothing, as usual. I hold my breath, wondering if he's going to answer my question or just ignore me.

He tucks me into my bed but doesn't climb in after me. I start to feel terrible; then he begins to speak.

"My mate..." Rhet says quietly. "She... was sick. Very sick. Cancer. She... um... she was only eleven when she was diagnosed the first time. I met her when she was fifteen. She never shifted. Never had the chance. She was too ill. She died..." his breath shudders out. "She wasn't much younger than you, actually. Eighteen."

"She was always sick?" I ask him. My heart aches for him. The picture he is painting is bleak. An ill mate, never recovering, always sick.

"Yeah. I met her, and she was this tiny thing. Taller than you, actually," he laughs weakly, "but so fucking small. Thin, too thin, and pale. She had the prettiest smile, though. Sky-blue eyes, blond hair. She was a Barbie," he laughs again.

I'm jealous of a dead female. It's sickening but true.

"What was she like?" I ask softly.

"Sweet and sad, my Lyri. Sweet and sad," he says softly. His fingers twitch at his sides, drumming on his leg. "She was in hospitals or confined at home for most of the three years I knew her. I barely went to school myself. I graduated from high school only because my friends brought me my homework and the teachers understood. I stayed with her as much as possible."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I whisper. I feel a raw stinging in my heart. Rhet isn't like Thjis or Ezra. His heart belongs to his dead mate, and who am I to say different?

"It's not fair," I say quietly.

He walks to the bed, sitting next to me and leaning on me, his face on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him, offering the scant comfort that I can.

"I was angry, my beautiful wolf," he says into my hair.

I nod. I understand. It really isn't fair. Cancer isn't fair.

"Why did she give up so easily?" he murmurs softly.

I freeze. What?

Rhet lets out a shaky breath. "I resented her. Part of me did, at least, because she wouldn't fight for me. She wouldn't fight to stay with me. She gave up, Angel."

"No, Rhet," I say, my voice trembling. "She died, sweetheart. She was sick. It's not her fault or yours."

He just shakes his head. I can feel the wetness seeping through my shirt from his tears. "You wouldn't have given up. You didn't give up. You're a fighter. Lyri, my Lyri. You wouldn't leave me like that."

"Oh, Rhet," I murmur. I just rock him, understanding what he isn't saying. He couldn't save her. Couldn't save his mate, and the guilt over his anger weighed his soul down.

He may be broken more than any of us.

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