Chapter 148: Boxes

ALEX

Dom walks into my office without knocking and eyes me strangely. “You’re going to be bald before your time if you keep pulling your hair like that.”

“If your mate nearly gave you a heart attack, you’d be pulling your hair out, too. I swear, Ariel’s headstrong personality will be the death of me.”

“You wouldn’t love her if she let you walk all over her. What did she do this time?” Dom asks, absently wiping at a stain on his shirt.

“Is that puke on your shirt? No, don’t answer that, I really don’t want to know... “ I say. “She’s at the Crescent Moon Pack and apparently they are in serious need of help.”

“It was rejected carrots. You can thank Camelia for that,” Dom says. “Want me to round up some warriors for you?”

“Look at you having good ideas,” I tease him.

“Obviously, I’m a dad now. I'm mature and shit,” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“Sure you are, man,” I laugh.

~Thank the Goddess I can always rely on Dom. ~

~Even when he’s an idiot most of the time…~

***

ARIEL

Natalia is showing Chuck around the pack, leaving Dad and I to keep an eye on Xavi while he naps.

It's so strange to be back in the house I grew up in.

It looks the same as before, except that everything is covered in a thin layer of dust.

Dad looks around the room with misty eyes. But then he shakes his head and starts opening the windows to let in some fresh air.

“I’ll get the boxes,” Dad says suddenly.

“Boxes?” I ask, frowning at him.

“To pack up Dianne’s stuff. She’s not coming back, so I see no reason to keep her things.”

“Are you sure, Dad?”

He doesn’t answer, just looks around once more and leaves down the hallway.

I follow him.

He falters as he passes the wall lined with photographs of our family through the years.

~My parents at their mating ceremony. ~

~Baby photos of Natalia. Teenage photos of Natalia.~

~Photos from her mating ceremony, from her pregnancy, from Xavi’s birth…~

But there are empty spots on the wall...

“Why are all my photos missing, Dad?” I ask when he returns with a stack of boxes.

“She was distraught when you first disappeared,” Dad says. “She'd spend days wandering the border looking for any sign of you. I came home after searching for you and I found her removing all your photos.

He sighs before continuing. “She said that she couldn’t keep looking at them and knowing you weren’t coming back. She boxed all your things and cleared out your room. Then she suddenly shifted all her focus back to Natalia. I couldn’t understand how she could pretend you never existed when finding you was all I could think about. I guess it should've been a sign that I didn’t really know her after all.”

“It might be rude to say, but I'm surprised she made any effort to look for me,” I say. “I never felt like I was able to keep her attention for long. Did you keep the photos or did she get rid of them?”

“I kept them all,” Dad says. He looks offended that I could even suggest he’d allow her to get rid of my things. “I have them up in the attic with some other old things Dianne wanted to throw out over the years.”

I push my sleeves up and look around the room, “So, where do you want to start, Dad?”

If this is what my dad needs to deal with Dianne’s leaving, then I will be here for him every step of the way.

We pack in silence, clearing away all the knick knacks lining the mantel and the ugly floral pillows that I always hated.

Natalia and Chuck return an hour later to find us sitting in the living room, surrounded by the old boxes Dad had hidden in the attic.

“You’ve been busy,” Chuck notes as Natalia settles next to Xavi on the floor.

“Dad’s showing Xavi some of his family’s old heirlooms and stuff. Grab a pillow and join us,” I say, pointing to the handful of pillows that Dad wants to keep.

Natalia grabs a worn-out photo album from one of the boxes and starts to flick through it. “Wow, this guy looks so much like you, Dad!” she says, pointing to one of the photos.

Dad leans over to look. “That’s Old Uncle Charles! I remember some of the war stories my grandmother used to tell me about her brother whenever my granddad was away.”

“What kind of stories?” I ask, curious.

“Uncle Charles was disowned by the family,” my dad admits. “You have to remember that times were different back then…Uncle Charles never found his fated mate. He chose to spend his life with a human man. And the family didn’t approve.”

“That’s awful, Dad... Do you know what happened to them?” Natalia asked.

Dad shakes his head, sadly. “No, but I wish I had asked her more about him before she passed. She seemed truly sad about having to sever all contact with him.”

“I’ll ask Maria if she knows of some way to trace families,” I tell him. “Maybe there’s some record of him since he was a warrior.”

“That would be great,” Dad says.

We spend the rest of the afternoon going through old boxes and listening to Dad tell stories about his childhood.

He was born and raised in another pack, the Blackstone Pack, and met Steve during his warrior training.

They struck up an immediate friendship and caused as much mischief as they could get away with before going their separate ways.

Oddly enough, Dad doesn’t say why they ended up leaving the Blackstone Pack.

He changes the subject to dinner plans, instead.

As I lay in bed that evening, I can’t help but wonder about this pack I've never heard of before and what happened there.

PETER

The girls go to their rooms and I return to mine, ready for a moment of peace.

I love them to the moon and back, but they worry too much.

I’m fine – completely and utterly fine.

~Sure, you are... Then why don’t you open the damn door?~

The one room I've managed to avoid all day…our – ~my – ~bedroom.

I take a deep breath and turn the handle.

It's the same as the day we left it.

The bed is neatly made and everything is in its place, except for my pile of warrior gear that Dianne refused to touch.

~How can everything be the same and completely different all at once? ~

Her makeup and perfumes still line the vanity.

Her clothes still hang in their color-coded order in the closet.

Her scent still lingers on the pillowcases…or maybe it’s just my mind playing tricks on me.

My vision blurs as I stare at the bed. I push my palms against my eyes, willing the tears away.