Chapter 18 - Moira

It was too late by the time they reached the lighthouse. Moira fell silent when Jonah pushed the door open and laid bare the wreckage inside. Evans had returned, as he'd predicted, but he'd done what he'd came to do and left again, leaving behind the destruction of everything they'd worked together to rebuild.

Tears sprang to her eyes. It had been one of the first tender moments she'd shared with Jonah, back before she'd trusted him, and to see it crushed and splintered felt like a violation.

"I'm so sorry, Jonah," she said, reaching for him. She thought he might brush her aside, but he collapsed into her touch and gave her a shuddering breath. "We'll rebuild it. Together."

When he spoke, the vehemence in his voice was a rumble, a crack that revealed the passion beneath his calm exterior. "I should have killed him when I had the chance."

She didn't pull back from him, even if the anger startled her. "You're not like that."

He stepped inside, picking his way carefully through the rubble. She followed, pushing aside the remains of a ladder and a tipped-over bucket of paint. It had been splashed all over the walls and then thrown across the floor, leaving a trail of cherry red that looked more like blood.

"Maybe I should be more like that," Jonah said flatly. He stood in the center of the room and spun slowly around, absorbing the damage.

She joined him there and caught both of his hands in her own, drawing him close. When he slumped and rested his head on hers, she wrapped her arms around him, kneading the muscles in his back. They were ramrod straight, every inch of him filled with tension. She felt helpless in the face of it. What comfort could she give? They were business partners. Fake mates.

Her heart twisted as the words passed through her mind, rejecting them. This was not fake. When they held each other, she felt the world right itself. Jonah never asked for her to be more than she was. Never looked down on her or pressured her, never laughed at her dreams. He supported and respected and listened. In his arms, she was herself. And he made her feel like that's all she wanted to be.

"I think you should stay exactly as you are," she told him, earnestly. "I wouldn't change a thing about you."

His voice was muffled by her hair. "Not a thing?"

"Not one."

***

They did not find Evans that day, nor the next. Two weeks later, the packs began to relax again, and Jonah stopped looking over his shoulder or jumping each time there was a sudden noise. With his help, Moira purchased the bakery from the bank, and they split their time between redecorating the shop and repairing the lighthouse.

He insisted that she take frequent breaks, always making sure there was a chair nearby for her to rest in and a tray filled with drinks and snacks. There had never been a more well-fed baby. Jonah seemed to relish feeding her. He'd make whatever she craved, whipping it up in the tiny kitchen in his apartment while she watched from the couch.

"I barely recognized the place," Vera called as she entered the bakery. "I walked right by the first time and had to turn around when I hit the cafe."

Moira poured her sister a cup of coffee and went out to meet her. "It's nice, isn't it?"

Vera took the mug gratefully, her fingers pink from the cold. Begrudgingly, she agreed. "It's a big improvement. And look what ran today."

She tossed the Rosewood newspaper down onto a table, and opened to the half-page ad Moira had taken out for the bakery proclaiming its new ownership and focus on special occasion cakes, along with a color picture of the new look. It still barely seemed real to Moira. She ran her fingers over the page.

"Business has been picking up," Moira said, giddy. The words spilled out, her happiness bubbling out in verbal form. "I got two calls from brides who loved the cake I did for that last wedding. I think this is really going to work."

To her surprise, Vera smiled. "I think it might, too."

Moira barely had a second to recover from that shock, the first time her sister had ever expressed confidence in her, before Vera went on.

"We got the autopsy results back from Mrs. Alden," she said, pulling a sheet from her bag. "It was a heart attack. Not violent causes, thankfully, though they suspect it was the fright of being kidnapped, that set it off."

Moira squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the woman's kindly old face. She'd deserved better than to be used as a pawn by Evans. The fact that she'd danced with him once, had his body pressed against hers, still made her want to claw her skin off at times. She'd taken a hundred hot showers to scald it off instead.

"I feel kind of guilty profiting off of her tragedy," Moira admitted, voice low.

Vera looked around the bakery. "You're honoring her with this place. Keeping it going. Loving it like you do. I didn't want you getting trapped in this town, Moira. I still don't know what will happen to this place, but I can see that you care about it, and I can see that you're determined to make this place succeed."

Her sister paused, chewing her words. "And?" Moira prompted.

"And I'm proud of you. A little bit," she said at last, then pinched her lips shut like she was afraid something else complimentary might slip out alongside it.

Moira's face split in a grin. "Leopards do change their spots."

Her sister rolled her eyes, slipping back into the sardonic tone that Moira was used to. "I think your boyfriend is proof of that. Guess I was wrong about him, too."

"I guess so," Moira said. She'd been wrong as well. Wonderfully wrong. She played with the tag at the end of her teabag, not meeting Vera's eyes. "I have something to tell you."

"Well, I know it can't be that you're pregnant since you already dropped that bomb on me," Vera said, crossing her arms and leaning back against her chair. "What is it?"

Moira plowed on before she could lose her nerve. "I'm going to go back to the Silversands pack."

Emotions flickered over Vera's face, fast and unreadable. "I like it at the Rosewoods."

"I know you do," Moira said quickly, "and I don't expect you to leave them too. It's okay for us to do some things separately, Vera. The packs are friends, and we'll still be so close to each other."

"Is this for Jonah?" Vera's words were bitter with pain.

Was it? Moira wasn't certain it was so black and white.

"Partly, if I'm honest. Part of it is that this bakery is here in Silversand, and I want to be a part of helping this town rebuild. I want to help it grow." She pleaded with Vera to understand.

They'd done everything together, and she knew it pained them both, if in different ways, to find their own ways now. Unnatural, almost. But Vera needed to live her own life. Moira could see now that she'd partially unraveled her sister's hold on her that Vera was holding herself back in a way. By pouring all her focus onto Moira, she could ignore the pieces her life was missing. Now, maybe she'd be able to find them.

Vera stood abruptly and grabbed her things. "I have to go."

Her voice was thick, like she was fighting back tears. There was still another thirty minutes before she would normally leave but Moira let her go, knowing her sister needed time to process on her own. Growing pains were never comfortable. She would tell the rest of the pack that evening, but there was someone else she needed to tell first.

Jonah arrived like clockwork at the end of the day, bringing her a decaf mocha like always. The combination of the sweet coffee and his smiling face was the pick-me-up she needed after a long day.

"Jonah," she began, as they walked toward her apartment. "I am going to leave the Rosewoods. I want to join the Silversands again."

He stopped short. "Really? I don't want you to feel pressured. It might not be traditional for the alpha's mate to belong to a different pack, but they'll come to accept it."

Wind whipped at her and her clothes, pushing her toward him, like even the weather conspired to bring them together. If fate and the weather and her own foolish heart wanted it, who was she to stand in its way?

She was tired of fighting what she felt. Tired of holding back from him. Her hands shook with the desire to reach out to him. So she did.

Moira caught him by surprise, crashing into him so that he had to catch her, his strong arms holding her tight. Their kiss was laced with the desperation she felt and it buoyed her so that when she drew back for air, she could say what had been true for longer than she could admit to herself.

"There's more. I don't want to be your fake mate anymore."

He inhaled sharply, hurt. His dark eyes dropped from hers, and she pushed his chin up, forcing him to look at her before she went on.

"Because I love you, Jonah. And I have for a while now." She paused, waiting for his response. His silence unnerved her, made her doubt herself. "I'm sorry. I know it's inconvenient and messy and—"

"You are never an inconvenience, Moira. I just didn't know how to respond to someone saying that all of my dreams had come true at once." He kissed her then, deeply and slowly, with an intensity that made her knees weak. "I love you."

His words landed somewhere inside of her, in a place she'd kept locked for so long, and she knew that she would never doubt him again. He was hers, and she was his, and they'd figure out the rest together.