Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

brIAR

W hen I hit solid ground, I hesitantly open my eyes. I look around and see I'm in a kitchen I don't recognize. Light wood floors, dark stained cabinets, and black-veined marble make the space feel classic and timeless. I wonder if I'm kneeling on the ground because my gaze barely reaches the countertop.

"Briar! There you are, dear. If you keep sneaking off, we won't ever get to the potion," a slightly younger version of Ophelia scolds me with a smile.

A high-pitched giggle slips out of my mouth, and I raise tiny arms above my head for Ophelia to pick me up. She swoops in to lift me, causing me to laugh again. "Sorry, Nan," I attempt to say, but it comes out more like "sowy." I wind my arms around her neck and give her a hug and a sloppy smooch on the cheek before she carries me to another room in the house.

It hits me then that I'm in a memory, not the present. Based on how little I am, I was probably around four. As we walk, the house starts to become familiar again. Memories of long summer days and cozy winter evenings spent with Nan come pouring in.

Nan sets me down on the floor in front of a bowl, glue, baking soda, and saline solution. She kneels down with me, arranging her light blue sundress around her. "For this potion, you need to mix the glue and baking soda together." She waits for me to combine the premeasured ingredients. "Now add the saline solution."

My little hands mix the sticky, goopy concoction together. Once I finish that, I turn to look up at her. "Now what, Nan?"

"Now, we add magic." Nan whispers something under her breath that I can't quite catch. When the slime turns bright blue, I giggle and clap my hands at the transformation. "Look at you, Briar. You'll be an expert potion maker in no time."

The memory fades as I'm flooded with other memories of Nan letting me watch her make potions, knitting me warm winter sweaters, taking me to the park to play for hours, cooking her famous chicken soup whenever I was sick, and more.

She was the grandma I never really had. Both of my mom's parents died before I was born. My dad's parents rarely visited. Nan made sure I never wanted for grandmotherly love, treating me just the same as her own grandchild. She'd watch me when my parents were busy, listen to my problems without judgement, and always be on my side, even when I was wrong.

I open my eyes and see Nan staring at me. "I missed you, Nan," I breathe. At least I did before I lost my memories. Leaving for a new city was more than just moving out of our house. We had to leave behind everyone who made it a home, which made Wolves Hollow especially lonely when I could still remember everyone.

"And I missed you, dear," she tells me through a watery smile.

I don't know if she says anything else because I'm plunged into another memory.

"And Dido and her mates lived happily ever after." A man sitting next to me closes the book he was reading. I look up at him and take in his jet-black hair, hazel eyes, and close-cropped beard in confusion.

Glancing around the room, I realize I'm in my room in the house I grew up in. The pale blue walls, white carpet, and light wood furniture are all the same as I remember. The fluffy sky-blue comforter with white unicorns and horses frolicking across it used to be in my room, but I switched it out a few years before we moved to Wolves Hollow. Since it's still on my bed, I can't be more than five years old in this memory.

"Are you ready for bed, little love? Or do you need another story?" the man asks, his deep voice familiar and foreign at the same time. Looking into his hazel eyes that I feel like I've seen before, I realize who he is. He's my dad. He and Ava have the same shade of hazel eyes.

Since it's just a memory, I don't give my dad a hug like I want to. Instead, my little chest puffs up in pride at being called "little love." He always calls Mama his love and me his little love. I glance out the window to the right of my bed and see the tree house he built for me last summer. Then I notice the shadows of the trees dancing in the moonlight. I turn back to my dad and shake my head. "I'm scared, Papa."

"Of what, honey?" My dad gently rubs my back as he waits for me to answer.

"That the bad people will find us." My breath hitches. Flashes of large men dressed in tactical gear overlay the memory. I can't be sure because they fade so fast, but the men look a lot like the Knights of Aeneas.

He wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his side. I inhale his cedar scent and try to absorb his strength. "They may find us, but as long as I'm still breathing, I'll protect you and Mama from them. Nothing will get past me to hurt the two of you, okay?" When I give him a small nod, he smiles broadly at me. "Let's read another book. How does Where the Sidewalk Ends sound?"

I grin at my dad, my earlier fear replaced by excitement. Where the Sidewalk Ends was always one of my favorite books as a kid. When I enthusiastically bob my head up and down, he gets up to grab the book. The memory starts slipping away. I want to scream at him not to go, to stay with me, but I can't do anything other than watch him walk away.

When I come back to myself in the present, my legs give out from under me. Only my grip on the workstation prevents me from falling on my face.

Oh god. Remembering my dad hurts. It feels like someone took a sledgehammer to my heart as I realize my dad wasn't the deadbeat I thought he was. I struggle to suck in a lungful of air as I'm swept up in a wave of grief so strong I worry I'll drown.

Papa loved my mom and me more than anything. I have so many memories of him chasing me around our yard as I giggle uncontrollably, walking me to school with Mama, having endless tea parties with me, holding me as I cry over something other kids did, and so much more.

Just as I remember my dad and how much he loved me, I remember that I lost him. I get flashes of my mom curled up on the kitchen floor sobbing until she couldn't breathe the night we found out. I see her silently crying over a closed casket that's being lowered into the ground. I watch her screaming at the sky one evening when she thought I was asleep. Her broken voice is asking a god who probably isn't listening why he didn't take her instead.

The thing that makes the tears finally run down my cheeks is that Ava never got to meet him. I'm pretty sure Ava was an unplanned baby, but Papa was so excited when he found out that Mama was pregnant with her. That's one of the only times I ever saw Papa cry. When Mama told him she was pregnant, he dropped to his knees and stared at Mama's still-flat belly in wonder, tears filling his eyes. Papa had already started building new baby furniture for Ava's nursery when he died.

Ava never got to meet the man that loved her before he even knew her. Instead, she's only ever known Patrick as her dad. My little sister deserved to know unconditional love from our dad like I did.

My dad kept his promise, though. We were always safe while he was still alive.

He supposedly died when his best friend's house accidentally exploded. It happened two months before we moved to Wolves Hollow. Mama never believed it was an accident. Patrick blackmailing her so soon after makes me doubt it was an accident too.

Papa's best friend was Saint's dad, who also died that night, along with Saint's mom.

Before I'm able to even process losing my dad, I'm thrown headfirst into another memory.

"I'll be right over there on the basketball court. Come get me if you need anything, okay, little shadow?" I peer into gray eyes that are even with mine since Saint's crouching down. I give him a little nod. He flashes me a quick grin before standing up and jogging over to his friends. They heckle him about always having a six-year-old follow him around. Saint shrugs off their teasing and dives into the basketball game.

Based on his gangly limbs and awkwardness, I'd guess Saint is somewhere around fifteen or sixteen in this memory.

I frown at Saint's friends for a moment. I'm six. It's not like I'm a little kid or something. I'm practically as old as they are.

Trying to forget about them, I turn to the playground. The woodchips crunch under my shoes as I make my way to the slides. I'm content to go down the slides and play on the swings for a little while. I keep eyeing the monkey bars, even though I know I can never get to the other side. Eventually, the temptation to try them again becomes too much to ignore.

Hesitantly approaching the green plasticky ladder that leads up to the bars, I blow out a determined breath. I can do this , I try to tell myself. Pushing past the fear, I climb up to the monkey bars. Gripping the first bar with my left hand, I swing myself toward the next one. When I successfully grab it, I grin in delight.

Growing bolder, I quickly move from bar to bar. It's going well until I miss one of the bars in the middle. I already let go of the one I was holding onto, so I plummet to the ground with a squeak. I land hard on my left knee. The woodchips bite into the bare skin exposed by my overall shorts. When I see the blood welling up from the scrape, pain flares bright and sudden.

"Saint!" I wail as I sit down on my butt facing the court Saint's on. When he sees me crying on the ground, he immediately abandons his basketball game.

"What the hell, man?" one of his friends shouts as Saint runs over to me.

"Just continue the game without me," Saint hollers over his shoulder distractedly. His brown hair flops in the wind as he sprints to my side. Saint skids to a stop in front of me and kneels down to inspect me for injuries. It doesn't take him long to find my skinned knee. "What happened, little shadow?"

"I fell!" I blubber through my tears.

"Is that how you hurt your knee?" Saint blows the wood dust off the wound and gently dabs at it with his white T-shirt, cleaning up the few drops of blood before fishing a Band-Aid from his pocket. After unwrapping it, Saint covers my skinned knee with it. Since I'm so accident prone, Saint always carries Band-Aids with him when he takes me to play anywhere.

"Yeah. I was trying to cross the monkey bars, but I couldn't do it." I hang my head in shame, the tears splashing onto my denim overalls.

"You made it more than halfway, Briar. You did a great job!" Saint offers me a hand up. Once I put my hand in his, he pulls me to my feet. Since he's kneeling, we're almost the same height. Saint opens his arms for a hug, and I step into them.

"No, I didn't," I grumble into his shoulder, frustrated with myself. Saint can do monkey bars, so I should be able to too.

"You did," he insists, "and I bet you can cross the monkey bars if you give it another shot. I'll stand under you and catch you in case you fall if you want to try again."

My tears dry up as I contemplate Saint's offer. I know he won't let me fall, and I want to show him that I can do everything he can. "Okay, I'll try again."

"That's my little shadow." Saint beams proudly at me as he climbs to his feet and walks with me to the ladder. Standing behind me, he makes sure I don't fall on my way up. Once I grab the monkey bars, he moves around to stand in front of me. Hovering his hands around my waist, he looks up at me. "Ready to give it another try?"

I nod at him, determination flooding me. Carefully swinging to the next bar, I move off the ladder. Saint lets out a whoop at me reaching the second bar. I can't keep the silly smile off my face at his joy. Taking a deep breath, I move to the next bar and the next one and the next one after that. Before I know it, I've reached the end.

Instead of letting me climb down, Saint lifts me up by my waist. He spins me around until we're both laughing so hard it's difficult to breathe. Saint sets me down on the ground and kneels again. "You did it! I'm so proud of you!"

My smile is so wide it hurts my cheeks. "I did! I finally did it!" I wrap my small arms around Saint's neck and give him a big hug. He squeezes me in return until I step back from the embrace.

"I think this calls for celebration ice cream. What do you think, little shadow?" Saint's crooked grin widens at my frantic nod. Pushing to his feet, he brushes off his knees before offering me his hand. I grab ahold of it. We head to my favorite ice cream place in town, his friends and basketball game completely forgotten.

Coming back to reality this time, I'm hit with a wave of memories of Saint. He was my best friend growing up, even though he's nine years older than me. Saint was always so patient with me as a kid. Whatever I wanted to do, he was always happy to do it, whether that was reading the same book over and over, running around outside for hours, or even playing princesses with me.

Once the memories stop flowing, I look around the room for Saint. He's leaning against the wall opposite the door. "Saint," I whisper as I take off at a full sprint toward him. He manages to straighten up before I leap at him. He catches me effortlessly, and I wrap my arms and legs tightly around him. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too, little shadow. So fucking much," he murmurs into my shoulder. He squeezes me tightly to him, like he's worried I'm going to disappear again.

Saint's arms have always been one of my favorite places. The only time I've ever felt like I do in his embrace is when any of the Wyldharts hold me. It's that thought that makes the pieces fall into place with Saint. Pulling back so I can look at his face, I ask, "You're also my mate, aren't you?"