My father said, “Joe will be Alpha. But you and Kelly… your job will be just as important. Because you will be his pack. And an Alpha is nothing without his pack. I know I… I’ve put a lot into him. Spent more time with him these last few years, and it took me away from you and Kelly—”
“Oh, hey, Dad, no, that’s not what I meant. You don’t have to—”
“Listen.”
I did.
“You are a Bennett, a name with meaning. With responsibility. They will look to Joe to lead them, but he will look to you for guidance. For hope. Because you are his just as much as he is yours. Nothing will change that. And I know you’ve never been the type to be jealous of something like that, but I need you to hear this from me, okay?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
My father said, “I love you no matter who you’re meant to be. I don’t care that you’re not an Alpha. You are as important, and not just to Joe. To me. You mean so much to me, and I don’t think I’ve told you that enough.”
“Dad,” I said in a choked voice.
He pressed his forehead against mine, and I breathed my Alpha in. “No matter where your travels take you, just know that I’m always here waiting for you whenever you decide you’re ready to come home.”
He hugged me then.
I held on as tightly as I could.
And later, when Mom was telling us to get together, to smile, Kelly, smile big, Dad was next to her, and I could see how proud of us he was.
It went like this:
We stood in order, oldest to youngest, Kelly in the middle, his arms around our shoulders. I laid my head against him. I could feel him smiling, and the tips of Joe’s fingers pressed against my back.
Mom said, “Ready? One. Two. Three.”
The camera clicked.
Ox came out of his house dressed in his work shirt, his name stitched on the chest. Joe left us and ran toward him, talking excitedly. Maggie appeared in the doorway, already dressed for the diner. She called after Ox, holding out a brown paper lunch sack. She waved at us.
We all waved back.
My mother cried as I left.
Dad did too, though he tried to keep it from us by wiping his eyes when he thought we weren’t looking.
Joe and Kelly hugged me as hard as they could, and I breathed them in, my brothers, my pack.
“I promise,” I whispered in the snow as the memory faded.
I put the photograph back in the tree.
He would know I’d been here. My scent would be thick around this tree.
/> I looked at the tracks leading away.
I stood.
Kelly said, “Don’t. Carter, please. Stay here. Go back to the cabin. Or better yet, find the truck and leave.”
“I can’t,” I said, looking down at the paw prints in the snow.
“You can,” he retorted. “You need to get to us. Call home. Tell us where you are. Let us help you. I need you. Why can’t you see that?”
“What would you do if this were Robbie?”