A/N: Thanks for your patience and continued support <3 feel free to share your thoughts.

Third Person POV

The flowers hardly had a chance to wilt by the time Vince arrived. Occasionally, a petal or leaf would fall, but they remained vibrant and full of life, for the most part, a result of Vince's weekly visits since Simon had left. Vince had made it a ritual to care for the garden and keep it pristine meticulously. He'd clip flowers and arrange bouquets with Helen from across the street before walking over and spending his Sundays in the garden. 

The garden had been flourishing, as well as Vince's self-reflection. Along with his sessions with Chase, Vince was starting to see a change in himself. Relief, almost free of the burden of being weighed down by his self-critical thoughts. Of course, they weren't completely gone, but Vince was working on it. He owed his progress to the garden as well.

The longer he stayed and shared his heart out, the freer Vince felt. With the sky as clear as today, and the slight wind from the mountains, Vince could almost smell it; Simon's scent. And when he read his letter, his eyes tracing every hand-written word, Simon's voice seemed to whisper in his ear. If Vince were lucky, he'd sometimes picture Simon by his side, the ghost-like presence of their joined hands. If he shut his eyes, he remembered how warm they felt in his, the reassurance they brought as their fingers interlaced.

It was days like this that Vince reflected the most; days he savored, no matter how much it hurt. Simon was still here, in spirit. Vince knew he should've called, should've reached out, or even visited him in person, but the wounds were still raw. As Simon wrote in his letter, Vince needed more time. He needed to forgive himself and be the best version of himself. Vince still had room to grow and still had things he needed to address before considering seeing Simon with the composure and dignity he deserved.

He owed Simon that much, at the least. 

Vince took his time watering the flowerbeds and cleaning up any dead flowers or trash others left behind. He saved reading his letters aloud for last before placing them in a box near Simon's stone. Each letter Vince wrote, he learned a little more about his feelings, thoughts, and complicated emotions. Like journal entries, Chase had called it a series of letters for Vince to help get it all out, and it worked. 

After reading this week's letter, Vince set it down, taking in the sight of the garden and reflecting on his past actions. His phone buzzed, distracting him from his moment of introspection. Aspen's name flashed on the screen.

"It's happening." Aspen's panicked voice breathed over the line. "The baby's coming, and I'm freaking out."

"Isn't this too early?"

Aspen let out a nervous breath. "Yeah, he wasn't supposed to be born for another month." 

"Shit, I'll be there," Vince replied before standing up. "If you still want me to be there..."

"Of course, Sarah insisted."

"Alright." Vince waited for Aspen to hang up before looking back down at the growing collection of flowers, cards, and gifts. He had taken a liking to organize the pile, occasionally collecting them in a box to store under the shelter of the packhouse. Vince would often change out the flowers others left, cleaned up any of the trash that flew into the yard, or even pruned the hedges and flowers near the other stones. With the supplies from Helen across the street, Vince had even helped paint the fence and benches, reinforced the pathway, and scrubbed the stones like new. 

It was the least he could do, Vince believed. 

He took a long last look at the memorial garden before walking to the pack hospital. Since the changes in regulations and rules Xavier established, the pack clinic had expanded. This included more beds, and equipment had been installed to accommodate the influx of rogues initiated. 

Vince didn't know what to expect in the maternity ward. He had never witnessed a birth, not even Xavier's birth. Even when Vince had been with Sarah, he had hardly made it to her fertility appointments either. He approached the nurse's station with a sense of urgency, the nurse quickly directing him to the second floor. 

Sarah's screams could be heard from behind the door, the sound of her labor paining Vince. Despite their strained past, they regarded each other as friends, and being by her side for sixteen years left Vince aching to ease her pain.

Over the months of writing and therapy, Vince realized that he cared for her, possibly even loved her. But it had never been in the way he had intended when he declared her his mate all those years ago. No, that feeling was more like a friendship, even if he had wronged her in ways that it should have ended their already compromised friendship. But Vince knew that kind of love he thought he wanted was different. She was never his mate, to begin with.

Of course, at one point, Vince had imagined him there with her, holding her hand as she delivered their child. For sixteen years, Vince had thought that that was a possibility for them. But seeing the look of glee and ardor that passed between her and her mate, the feeling of intruding on something so personal made Vince hesitate. Averting his eyes, Vince stepped away from the glass, settling in a chair across the hall. He'd give them all the time and privacy they needed; after all, it was a delicate and joyous celebration for their addition to the family.

It was evident in how Aspen and Sarah looked at each other, in how they regarded their child. The love between a mated couple was drastically different. Vince had seen it in the way Aspen clutched her hand, the reassuring touches; he could just feel how strong their love was for each other. 

He had often wondered if he'd ever feel that kind of love with Simon. 

Vince fiddled with his phone, his thoughts wandering to his mate. It seemed everything reminded him of Simon. Had he heard the news? Would he be here to hold the baby and celebrate too? And if he were to show up, was Vince ready to face him? It had only been a month since he last saw him at the bar; Vince wasn't sure if he could say he had gotten better since then. 

"Vince?" Aspen's voice shocked him out of his thoughts, a soft grin donning his face. "Would you like to come in?"

Vince stood up, glancing into the window. Sarah held her baby to her chest, the midwife adjusting her bed and blankets. "You sure? I can always visit later. This should be between you two anyway."

Aspen let out a chuff before patting Vince's shoulder. "Just get in."

As Vince entered the room, a rush of emotions hit him. Sarah's gentle smile had reassured him that this was fine, even if Vince felt out of place here. The baby mewled, his first few cries dying out as he laid on Sarah's chest, both spent from the ordeal. Despite the pain and stress, Sarah must've gone through, she smiled through her exhaustion, ushering the men towards her. Still frozen in place, Aspen's hand on Vince's back steered him forward. 

Vince remained at the foot of the bed as Aspen kissed Sarah's forehead, looking lovingly at his family. Aspen looked up at her, his hand gently caressing their swaddled baby. "He's beautiful, dear."

"Congrats," Vince spoke softly. "To both of you."

They smiled at him before they shared a glance. Aspen gently cradled the baby in his arms, his hand bracing the baby's head, almost giant-like compared to their child. Softly rocking the child, he stepped towards Vince. "Would you like to hold him?"

"I-" Vince stammered as Aspen had taken a few more steps, a mere two feet away. "I shouldn't...."

Aspen chuckled before adjusting his hold on his child, handing him to Vince. Vince hesitated, his arms stiff as Aspen gently placed the newborn in his arms. Goosebumps traveled up Vince's arm; the baby weighed as light as a feather, a mere four and a half pounds, Sarah had told him. So fragile and delicate, Vince feared moving. 

"He's...healthy?" Vince asked, looking between them. "No complications?"

"Premature, but everything is normal." Aspen smiled down at his child, the baby's fingers wrapped around his pinky. "Just an eager little one."

Vince smiled. "That's great news. Have you decided on a name?"

Aspen glanced at Vince with an amused grin before turning to Sarah. She nodded, an unspoken agreement before Aspen answered him, his eyes never leaving the infant. "We'd like you to name him."

Vince blinked, Aspen's words going above his head. "Me?"

Sarah let out a breathy laugh. "Yes, you."

He looked down at the child in his arms, swaddled and content with his finger still around Aspen's pinky finger. "I couldn't possibly-"

"Vince." Aspen interrupted. "It's okay; we talked about this. We both agreed to it."

He gulped, looking between the two of them, then down at their child. Unwarranted memories resurfaced in the back of Vince's mind, of what had transpired nearly seventeen years ago. His stomach dropped as the innocent child shifted in his arms. "I really shouldn't."

"Why not?" Aspen said harshly, watching as his child reached his other hand towards Vince's face, seemingly leaning into his chest. "Look, he likes you."

Vince bit his lip before handing the baby back to Aspen, his head filled with thoughts of his mate. "Simon should get that honor. He'll be here, won't he?"

"He said he'd drop by after work." Aspen gave Vince a sad smile. "Should be done in an hour, but we're serious, Vince. We'd like you to choose a name."

Sarah frowned. "Vince-"

"He should name him," Vince insisted. "Or the two of you. Please, it's only fair. He was excited for this moment. He should be here for this; he's closer to you two than I am. Besides, you're practically family."

Aspen pursed his lips, biting his tongue from saying anything too harsh. Sarah cleared her throat. "Stay, would you? You could wait for him and decide on a name together."

Vince gave them a slight smile, masking the anxiety of picturing Simon here. "That's alright. I'll let you two rest; you both must be exhausted. Congrats, again; I'm happy for you both. He's one lucky kid."

With that, Vince headed for the door, ignoring their curious and prying eyes. As soon as he was out of their sightline, Vince sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was also days like this where Vince wondered if he'd ever feel okay at the mention of Simon. Would he ever feel comfortable with the idea of Simon in the same room as him, where his heart didn't beat against his chest, and the anxious knot in his stomach didn't make him nauseous?

And to think he had made progress, Vince scoffed. Chase had told him it takes time, but how long would that be? How long would it take him to forgive himself and move on?

Vince's room was cold and empty as he entered it, as it had been for the last eight months. 

Simon's letter remained on the dresser, beside the candid photo of them. Vince hadn't bothered to move it, one of the only tangible things that proved that there had been a time Simon was here. Once what lingered in the room, Simon's scent was barely noticeable now, the bed sheets washed and stripped of his scent. Even his toothbrush had been tossed out by one of the maids.

Only the memories remained now, both the good and the ugly. From Simon's first night here to the time Vince's wolf had shown himself. Even those tender moments where they had laid next to each other, their hands interlaced to ease their nerves. From those late-night arguments to the tentative kisses they shared, it all replayed in Vince's head, a montage of all that he lost.

But that letter had weighed heavily on Vince's mind for the past month. It wasn't a loss, Simon had said. Without those memories, Vince would have been a completely different person. He had already gotten better in Simon's eyes. He had gained so much from the short time Simon had been here. This was only the start of Vince's journey, a checkpoint in the path to healing and acceptance. 

Wallowing in guilt, blaming one's self, that wasn't progressing. Simon wouldn't have wanted that; he knew that destructive path like the back of his hand. No, Vince needed to forgive himself, learn and understand why before accepting and moving on. 

Vince wasn't sure how long this process would take, but he owed it to Simon to give him the best chance of happiness, even if it meant without him in his life.