Gavin jerked his head up. “Me?”
She nodded. “Not specifically. But yes, you. I don’t know anyone else it’s meant for more than you. Would you like to read it?”
He reached out as if in awe, fingers shaking. He touched the envelope in reverence, tracing the words, stopping on my name. He pulled his hand back, and my stomach twisted harshly.
He said, “My eyes. They don’t… work. Like they used to. Words are hard. Getting better, but hard to read.” He glanced at me, flushing. “I’m not stupid. I know how to read. Just gets jumbled up. Not there yet.”
“Oh,” my mother said. “I know what that’s like. After Thomas left us and I only knew the wolf for months, the first time I shifted back, my head was jumbled too. It was confusing.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. The air burned with his shame. “I guess like that.”
“It’ll get easier,” she said. “I promise. Be patient. You don’t have to read it now. It’ll be there when you’re ready. It’s—”
“Can you read it for me?”
My mother looked startled. “Are you sure?”
He nodded tightly. “I want to hear it.”
She said, “I’m sure Carter would like to—”
“Please.”
She looked to me. I shrugged helplessly. I was hungry. Greedy. I wanted to tear through the envelope and read what it had to say, to hear what my father thought of me. I was scared. It was like the moon was full once again and calling for me.
I fought. It was harder than I thought it would be.
She said, “If that’s what you want.”
And Gavin said, “Yes.”
She lifted the envelope. She opened it carefully before pulling out the folded paper inside. Her eyes were wet when she opened the pages, and I marveled at her. This woman. This wolf mother. All that she’d done. All that she’d seen. All that she’d lived through. If I could have half the strength she did, I would be better for it.
I could see it on her face. Wanting to read ahead, eyes darting back and forth. I didn’t blame her for that. I would have done the same.
But she stopped.
She cleared her throat.
And then she began to read.
“Hello. It snowed last night.” As she went on, her voice grew stronger. “We weren’t expecting it. Surprise snow is my favorite snow. It always has been. I woke early, before everyone else. The compound was quiet, daybreak still an hour or two away. There’s something magnificently strange about snowfall at night. The air feels charged. The light is odd. It’s this faint peach color. I am entranced by it. I walked outside, and while most of the snowfall had passed, there were still flurries, moving statically. It was because of this I decided it was time to write this letter. I can’t explain why, exactly, I felt this was a sign. Sometimes there isn’t a rational explanation, even if we want there to be one. It just feels right. So here I am, pen in hand, thinking of my oldest son.”
I closed my eyes, listening to my father’s words. I heard the voice of my mother, but overlaid with it, I could hear him as if he were speaking. As if he was here with us and reading it instead of her.
Carter is fifteen years old. And like most boys his age, he’s brash and awkward. He’s growing into himself but still apt to trip over his own feet. It makes me smile, but not because he tends to be a little graceless. No, I think it’s because he simply exists at all. I was fortunate enough to be gifted three sons. They have made me a father. But it’s Carter who made me a dad in the first place, and I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that. When one becomes a dad for the first time, it’s terrifying. It’s enthralling. It’s unlike anything else in the world. Elizabeth will tell you I worried. That I fretted. That I was sure I was going to break him. I wish I could say that’s an embellishment, but it wouldn’t be. I worried and fretted and was convinced I would drop my child the first moment I held him in my arms.
Have you ever loved someone at first sight? I have. Four times, in fact. Elizabeth was the first, though she will probably say it was more hormones than anything else. But I know what I know. When I saw her, I knew there was no one else for me. I was lost to her, and I never wanted to be found.
The second time I fell in love was when Carter Bennett was born. He was so tiny. So fragile. So loud. Oh, he cried. He wailed. I thought there was something wrong with him. But then he was placed in my arms, and he just… stopped. He blinked. And even though it’s just projection on my part, I would have sworn he knew me, that he recognized me. He stopped crying. He stopped moving. He just stared at me. And I knew then that no matter what happened in this life, no matter what we would face, my wife and I had made something so profound that it defied explanation. Love is strange that way. You think you know what to expect, but when it hits you, it’s forceful enough to shatter your entire world. I wasn’t ready for him and all that he would entail. I thought I was. But as I looked down at him, I knew that it was more than I ever thought possible. He was more.
His brothers, my third and fourth loves, followed him, and though I love them all equally, I look back at the moment Carter came into the world as a culmination. He was born in a moment of great strife and loss, and I was tethered by him. He gave me purpose. He gave me strength. I would like to tell you, whoever you are, about Carter.
Here is what I know:
He was never going to be Alpha. I never cared about that.
He’s more like me than his brothers are. That worries me. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve hurt people, though I didn’t intend to. I hope he takes the better parts of me and leaves the rest behind.