16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

N atalie

Rising from Fury's lap, I limp to the mantel and take down a framed photograph. I can't help but give a wan smile as I recall making the frame in Girl Scouts. It's kiln-fired clay, pressed with faded fall leaves. I trace the smiling faces in the photo with a fingertip.

"This was taken on my tenth birthday," I murmur, cradling the frame close to my heart. "Mom threw me a surprise party. Invited all my friends, decorated the whole house. It was magical."

Settling back down next to Fury, I tilt the photo so he can see. Two figures beam up at us—a younger me, all toothy grin and pigtails, and Mom, her eyes crinkled with laughter. "She was my best friend, my confidante. With Dad gone so much for work, it was really just the two of us against the world, you know?"

Memories flow, unbidden. "There was this one year, I must have been about twelve. Dad was supposed to take me camping for the first time, just the two of us. But he got called away last minute for work. Again."

A wistful smile tugs at my lips, the sweet memory edged with a now-familiar ache. "Mom grabbed the new tent he'd bought but had never removed from the box and then bundled me into the car. She drove us to this very mountain and set up camp in a big, open field. We figured out how to put the tent up, then spread our sleeping bags out under the stars for a while. We lay on our backs, picking out constellations and making up silly stories. It was perfect."

Blinking back the sting of tears, I swallow hard, meeting Fury's steady silver gaze. He's watching me intently, his face soft with empathy, silently encouraging me to continue as he uses his claws to gently scratch up and down my arm. Although I thought it would hurt, it feels affectionate, reassuring.

"She passed away. Several months ago." The words leave me in a rush, ragged and raw. "It was sudden. A brain aneurysm. She was vibrant and so full of life one moment… and then she was gone."

A single tear escapes, tracking a hot trail down my cheek as I shrug, impotent over the series of events and equally powerless over my own grief-stricken emotions. Fury makes a low, comforting sound, not quite a growl because it's filled with compassion. His big hand cups my face, thumb sweeping away the moisture with a gentleness that undoes me.

Turning into his touch, I let the next words tumble out in a broken whisper. "I have her ashes. She always said when she died, she wanted them scattered at our special campsite. The place where she taught me the joy of a life lived wild and free, even in stolen moments."

Understanding dawns in Fury's eyes, followed by a fierce protectiveness that steals my breath. "You were gathering your nerve, getting ready to scatter them. Now…" He glances meaningfully at my bandaged ankle.

Nodding, I grip my lower lip between my teeth. "I thought I was almost ready. I wanted … I needed to do this for her. But now, between the storm and my ankle, I doubt I'll be able to scatter her ashes until spring."

"Hey." Strong arms wrap around me, pulling me into the solid warmth of his chest. "You'll get there. Once that ankle heals and the weather clears, we'll go together. I'll help you honor her memory."

We. That single word shimmers between us, heavy with promise and unspoken emotion. Fresh tears well, spilling unchecked.

"You don't have to do that," I murmur into his shirt. "I know you didn't sign up for any of this."

"Too bad," he murmurs gruffly into my hair, his voice low and sure. "You're stuck with me now, Buttercup. I'm not going anywhere."

For a long moment, I just cling to him, marveling at the sheer complexity of this male. So fearsome and wild, yet so unfailingly gentle when it matters most.

"Thank you," I finally manage, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. Letting him read the depths of my gratitude, my awe, my growing affection. "For being here. For being you."

His quicksilver eyes search mine, some of that ever-present wariness lurking in their depths. But there's tenderness there too, and a burgeoning heat that sends pleasant shivers dancing down my spine.

"No place I'd rather be." He says it like a vow, a solemn promise. And God help me, I believe him.

As we sit here, hands clasped and foreheads touching, the photograph cradled between us, I feel some of the weight I've been carrying since my mother's death begin to ease.

It's still there, the grief and the loss. It always will be. But with this unbelievable male by my side, offering his strength and his compassion so freely, suddenly the road ahead doesn't look quite so daunting.

With Fury, even the wilds of my heart feel just a little less dark, a little less lonely.

For the first time in a long while, curled into Fury's steady warmth, my mother's precious memory clasped tight, I let myself believe that maybe something good might be waiting around the corner.