Her hair sat in a loose ponytail over one shoulder. Her hand was already at her mouth, and even from this distance, I could see the sheen in her eyes.
“Mom?” I whispered.
She tilted her head back toward the sky, tears falling freely. She was beautiful, this woman, this wonderful woman who had given so much. A sharp lance of guilt pierced my heart because I knew that I’d only added to it. I needed her forgiveness. I needed her to see me. I needed her to tell me I would always be her son, even in the face of what I’d done.
She was all I could see.
Kelly climbed out of the truck.
I pulled my hand away from Gavin.
I stepped out into our territory. It washed over me, and I wanted to howl because this was where I belonged, this was where I was supposed to be.
This was my home. This place. These people.
My mother took a step toward me.
She said, “Carter.”
She said, “Hello.”
She said, “You’re here.”
She said, “I knew you’d come home.”
She said, “I always knew.”
And then she was running.
I caught her as she leapt at me. I stumbled back but somehow managed to stay upright. Her hands were in my hair, and she was sobbing against my chest, and I’d forgotten how much bigger than her I was, the top of her head barely at my chin, and I was struck by the dissonance in her, how fragile she seemed. How breakable, but it was all a lie. She was strong, stronger than anyone else I knew. I didn’t know how she’d done it. How she’d survived after all she’d lost. And I, blinded to anything else but Gavin, Gavin, Gavin, had only added to it. These happy tears were for me, but I didn’t know if I deserved them.
I said, “I found him. Mom, I found him, and I know I should have listened, I know I should have trusted you more, but I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I was lost in my own head, and I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I could keep it away from you. Keep all the death and blood and fire. That if I could do this on my own, you wouldn’t feel like you were being torn apart.”
And she said, “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. Not anymore. You’re home. You’re home, and all the rest will come later.” She pulled back, taking my face in her hands. Her smile was watery, her cheeks flushed. Her blue eyes were so much like my own, and I wished I could be as brave as she was. As forgiving. And, as she was a mother, she said, “You’re too skinny. Why are you so skinny? Didn’t you eat? I’ll feed you. I’ll feed you until you’re sick of food, and then I’ll make you eat more.”
I laughed then, at the ridiculousness of it all. And if it came out cracked and soft, then it was just for us.
She kept ahold of me as the others came, never letting me get too far away from her.
Mark was first. My father’s brother. He looked different, though it wasn’t entirely physical. He was a Beta again. He seemed calmer, more at ease. He pressed his cheek against mine, rubbing his scent into me. I sucked in a breath, and I remembered being a kid, maybe five or six, and my uncle putting me up on his shoulders, my legs draped over his chest. “You ready to fly?” he’d said, and I crowed with my arms over my head. He’d run then, run through the forest, faster than any human, the wind whipping through my hair. He’d been laughing, and when we’d come back, my father had smiled at us, arms over his chest.
Mark said, “I’m so happy you’re home. After all this time. Here you are.”
“Here I am,” I whispered, and then he was with Gordo, kissing him soundly, lips smacking. Gordo grumbled at him, but he didn’t mean it. He was smiling, the lines around his eyes and mouth deep and kind.
Jessie came next, standing in front of me, looking me up and down critically. “Bennett.”
“Alexander.”
“You’re up to your neck in shit.”
“I figured as much.”
And then she jumped on me, wrapping her legs around my hips, her chin hooked over my shoulder. “Dumbass,” she muttered against my skin. I spun her around, her hair smelling like lilacs.
Dominique was there, eyes alight. They were orange, and it was a piece of a puzzle I never knew we were missing. She was packpackpack, and I wondered what she sounded like when she sang to the moon now that she had found healing. She spoke in her whiskey-smooth voice, her lips quirking. “I’m not going to jump on you.”
I set her girlfriend down. “You sure about that?”