Chapter 10 Part 2

Vince's POV

A few pack members stopped to greet us as we headed out of the hospital, others simply glancing as we walked past them. I wondered if they had known what happened, or found it strange that we were walking together. As we neared the pack house, he fished something out of his pocket.

“I almost forgot, your phone. It’s charged.” He handed me the device. I flipped it over in my hands before tapping the screen. As expected, there were tons of missed calls and texts, mainly from Xavier, Sarah, and Aspen. But as I scrolled down, there were two from Simon. I opened those first, a sigh escaping me. 

Rowan loved your gift. A photo of him with his gift in hand made me smile a little.

And then the last message. We missed you at the party.

Had he known that I ran from that party? Did he think I was silly for running like that?

The betas gave us their condolences as we entered the building, heading down the hallway with the portraits on the wall. The pack house felt emptier than normal, even though mother hadn’t lived here in years. The fact that we were on our own now just made this place feel a hundred times more barren. 

“It’s Sunday by the way,” Xavier mentioned as we neared the foot of the stairs. 

“Sunday?” I turned to him. Had I been gone that long? “Shit, the garden.”

That had been my ritual, going to pay my respects there. I almost forgot about it.

“I had someone bring a bouquet in case you were planning on stopping by there. They left it in your room.”

“Thanks,” I told him before looking at him firmly. “We’ll be okay. You should get some rest though. I’ll tell you about Arthur and everything else later.”

He nodded. “Sure, and thanks—for being there. I know hugging and all that isn’t our thing, but it means a lot and I don’t think I could’ve gotten through that without you there.”

“Same here.” He headed up the stairs first, heading to his room, as I followed behind, letting everything sink in. Xavier was always attached to our mother the most, yet he handled that better than I expected. Of course, we were both sobbing messes at one point, Xavier seemed fairly calm now.

As I neared the doors to my room, I could smell the faintest trail of vanilla or something sweet. Maybe it was my imagination, but it was intoxicating, almost nostalgic in some way. Like it was—

Mate, my wolf had sheepishly said. No, I almost argued. I was certain I was just imagining it. Why would his scent be here?

Mate, my wolf said again, insisting. Lo and behold, as I stepped into my room, he wasn’t there, just as it had been these past couple of years.

Although the alluring smell was stronger, that couldn't have meant anything.

My wolf whined, almost as if in protest before pulling back again, retreating. The bouquet that rest on the bed was beautiful, the flowers fresh with a fresh floral scent, with an array of ferns and accent flowers. Xavier had remembered the types of flowers I used to decorate their garden. I don’t know why looking at the lovely bouquet made my breath hitch the longer I stared at it, but it did. Maybe it was because it reminded me of the times I spent with him in the garden, or from the days I’d talk to their graves with those letters in my hand. Or looking at it on his side of the bed made me realize just how much I missed him. 

It could’ve been all three, quite frankly. 

Walking over to the edge of the bed, I gingerly picked the bouquet up in my hands, the floral aroma mixing perfectly with the scent that I had smelled earlier. It smelt just like him.

As I took traveled back down to the ground floor of the pack house, my wolf seemed more active than usual, muttering mate over and over again like a chant.

A few pack members stopped to glance at me, others bowing or nodding their head as most were aware that walked this path on Sundays. That or they too had heard about my disappearance, and about my mother, and were paying their respects. 

It wasn’t until I neared their gate that I seen or rather felt what my wolf meant. A familiar silhouette was in the garden. I could recognize him anywhere, and there he was standing before the memorial stones. 

Simon.

Mate, my wolf urged again, almost smugly. The bouquet of flowers had fallen from my hand, my mouth opening and closing like a fish as he turned around. No, this wasn’t real, it couldn’t be—I must be seeing things.

It wasn’t until he called my name did I finally breathe. 

“You’re not real,” my words came out hastily, just above a whisper. “You can’t be here, this can’t be true.”

“It’s really me, Vince. See.” Simon stepped forward before stretching his arms out to pull me into a hug, but I hesitated. I glanced down at the fallen flowers before quickly bending to pick them up, coddling them to my chest like a child would with their stuffed animal.

Shaking my head, I let out a breath. “No. No, this can’t be—“

“I’m here,” he reached for hand. There was a soft look in those brown eyes as he pulled my free hand into his. They were warm, so incredibly warm. He pulled it to his chest, and I could feel the bond flow between us again, running through our fingers and into our chest.

Oh, how I missed that sensation.

“Would you have felt that if I wasn’t real?” His voice was light as he stared down at our entwined hands. With each other this close, I could feel both of our wolves howling in joy, relieved even. 

“What—what are you doing here?”

There was a sad look on his face as he pursed his lips.“Xavier told me about your mother. And well about what happened after the party. “

So he knew. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head before grabbing the bouquet from my hand. He placed it gently on one of the benches behind him before reaching a hand to my cheek. “You shouldn’t feel sorry. We were just worried, and I’m sure you’re going through a lot with—with your mother.”

“You’re—you’re really here.”

He hummed. “I told her my goodbyes earlier. Xavier said you’d probably be here, so I waited here after. How are you feeling?”

It was a simple question, but a part of me broke. The residual feelings from earlier lingering like a bitter taste in my mouth. I shook my head, lowering my head as I felt the pressure build in my sinuses again. 

Simon led us to sit on the bench, his hands wrapping around me as he pulled me into his side. The tears sprung forward as I rested my head on his shoulder, almost surprised he let me.

“It hurts,” I said finally. “It really hurts.”

His left-hand rand up and down my back soothingly, as his other hand entwined our hands again. “You’re okay.”

“I didn’t think it would hurt this bad.” He squeezed my hand. “I wish I had been there longer, wish there had been more time.”

“I know,” he said. “I know it does. Just let it out. I’m right here, for you.”

I sniffled rather unpleasantly as I shook my head. How many tears could one possibly have I wondered? Why couldn’t it stop?

“I shouldn’t be crying like this. Especially to someone who had their whole family ripped away from them.” The soothing circles his hands had worked along my back had stopped, his fingers stiffening at my words. At first, I wondered if I had struck a nerve, but he continued rubbing circles against my back as if it hadn’t fazed him at all.

He sighed before tilting my head to meet his eyes. “It’s okay to be hurting, Vince. Losing your mother is a big deal; you shouldn’t compare what you’re feeling to what I went through, or to anyone else. What you feel is valid and raw and very real.”

I shifted my body to face him, but I could hardly voice my thoughts.

I missed you. Thank you for being here. Are you staying? I missed you, I missed you, I missed you.

“Thank you,” I managed to say after a few seconds of looking into his eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me.” 

I nodded, before fixating down at our hands. It had been so long since I’ve felt them in mind, yet I remembered exactly how they felt. The creases and feeling of his smooth skin against my own. I hadn’t realized how close he had gotten as my thumb ran over his knuckles. He rested his forehead against mine, his eyes boring into mine longingly.

I could feel his breath against my lips, the distance between them impossibly close. Just a nudge and they’d be pressed firmly against mine, and the thought crossed my mind more than once. I could kiss him, I could indulge in the taste of them and let ourselves drown in the feeling of the bond. 

As much as I wanted to, I pulled away, watching his face distort into confusion. “I shouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“But Sam,” I blurted. “Isn’t he here?”

“Sam?” Simon furrowed his brow as if that wasn’t enough to understand. “He left for work, but what does that have to do with this?”

I blinked, the visions of them together wrapped up in each other’s embrace swirling in my head. “But you two, you’re—you’re together.”

He shook his head before pulling my hands into his. A look of amusement flashed across his face. “No, we aren’t.”

“You two—you really aren’t…”

He shook his head. “We aren’t. We never were. I wanted to make it work—I wanted to at first, but I realized just how different it is; how different this feels.”

“Different?”

“Although I thought with Sam I was happy, it just felt wrong—like I was forcing something that wasn’t meant to be. Every day my thoughts would just come back to us. And how much I wanted this from the beginning.”

“But he’s so—“ Right for you, I wanted to say. Sam’s never hurt you the way I did. “But Sam is—“

“This feels right, Vince.” There was a stern, resolute tone in his words.

“It does?”

He smiled, his eyes softening like they did when I said something silly. But there wasn’t a sense of mockery on his face; just amusement and kindness. “Yes. It does.”

I couldn’t help but smile, not realizing how satisfying it was to hear him say that. It was as if I was melting under those words, his gentle reassurance adding another layer of comfort.

“Goddess, I missed you,” the words spilled out as I rested my head on his chest. 

His hands were around me in an instant, pulling me further into him as we sat there in the garden. “I missed you too.”