I didn’t want to speak first.
Because I was sure I’d say something I’d regret.
Because I was so goddamned angry.
Seeing him here. Safe. Sound. Alive. It should have made me happier than I’d ever been. And it did.
But the anger was stronger.
My pack sighed behind me as my fury washed over them.
And then, like he could hear the memory in my head of the day we’d first met, Joe Bennett said, “I’m sorry.” His voice was deep. Rough. Strong.
I played my part. “For?”
He said, “For whatever just made you sad.”
“I dream. Sometimes it feels like I’m awake. And then I’m not.” And I had to remind myself we were not who we were then, the little boy on the dirt road and the big dumb Ox who was gonna get shit all his life.
His voice cracked when he said, “You’re awake now. Ox. Ox. Ox. Don’t you see?”
“See what?”
He whispered, as if saying it any louder would make it untrue. “We’re so close to each other.”
And it wasn’t the same as before. As what he’d said when he was the little tornado on my back, but it was enough. Because we were. We were so goddamn close to each other, closer than we’d been in over three years, and all I had to do was take that first step. All I had to do was open my arms and he could be there. If he wanted to be. If I wanted him to be.
I didn’t move.
But he wasn’t done. “Mom,” he said, though his eyes never left mine. “Mom. You have to smell him. It’s like… I don’t even know what it’s like. I was walking in the woods to scope out our territory so I could be like Dad and then it was like….” He closed his eyes for a moment. We all held our breaths. He continued. “And then he was all standing there and he didn’t see me at first because I’m getting so good at hunting. I was all like rawr and grr but then I smelled it again and it was him and it was all kaboom.” He opened his eyes again. They were filling with the red of the Alpha. “I don’t even know. You gotta smell him and then tell me why it’s all candy canes and pinecones. All epic and awesome.”
His voice died out.
A lark sang from the trees.
The grass swayed with the breeze.
He said, “Ox.”
I said, “Alpha,” and my voice barely contained my anger.
He winced the slightest bit before nodding in return. “Alpha,” he said.
It wasn’t repetition. It was acknowledgment.
Because this wasn’t his territory anymore.
Somehow, it’d become mine.
Robbie flexed his hand gently on my shoulder.
Joe’s eyes darted to Robbie again. To his face. Where he was touching me. Back to me.
He growled. A warning. This was a strange wolf he did not know touching me.
Everyone tensed.
Robbie snarled in response and, before I could stop him, vaulted over me, landing in front of the pack, crouched down and teeth bared at the others.