Mom offered to drive me home, but I declined, even though my face was still puffy from all the crying in her office. I needed some space, some time to clear my head. Being trapped in a car with her would only bring more tears, and I was done with those for now. Despite the ache in my body and the heaviness in my limbs, I walked home anyway, each step weighed down by the burden of too many thoughts.
The fifteen-minute walk back to my neighborhood gave me plenty of time to replay the scene in the hallway over and over. I mentally sifted through all the things I could’ve said, every action I could’ve taken to change the outcome. It was that painful loop you get stuck in after something awful happens-how you think of every perfect response too late, when it no longer matters. I could have begged, I could have leaned into his arms and used the bond we shared, but I hadn’t. And now, the realization was hitting me hard: I hadn’t because I wasn’t strong enough.
When I finally made it home, I didn’t linger inside. I grabbed a notebook and pen and headed right back out. I had one last thing to do. I needed to say goodbye to Andrea. He was the person I would miss the most. Spending time with him had been a sort of escape-his carefree attitude made me forget my own problems. I wasn’t sure how to handle the thought of leaving him behind.
When I reached the riverbank, disappointment settled in. I didn’t know why I had expected him to be there. It was the middle of the afternoon on a Friday; of course, he wouldn’t be waiting around. Our meetings had become fewer, but they had always been something I looked forward to.
Since he wasn’t there, I sat down on the rock where he usually perched and pulled out the notebook. I couldn’t bear the thought of him waiting for me tomorrow, only to find nothing. The truth, I decided, was kinder.
“Andrea,
I’m not sure if you’ll ever see this, but I hope you do. I can’t explain why this is happening, and I don’t expect you to understand. My mom and I are moving away, and I can’t say where or why, but I wanted to leave this note so you’d know I’m safe.
Thank you for being my friend. You helped me forget things I couldn’t deal with, and I’ll never forget that. Hopefully, we’ll meet again someday.
Isabella.”
I placed the notebook on the flat rock, hoping the weather would be kind enough to leave it untouched, and that Andrea would find it in time. Then I turned and headed back home, realizing that I only had an hour to pack.
I didn’t bother taking much, just the essentials. Some clothes for Mom and me, a few keepsakes, and a small box of photos of Dad. Everything else could be replaced. When I finished packing, I sat in my room for a moment, looking around. I had spent my whole life within these four walls, watching the paint peel and be replaced, collecting memories I couldn’t even fully recall. The gaps in my memory, a lingering effect of my injury, made it hard to feel fully connected to this place, yet it still hurt to leave.
I was sitting in the living room when Mom came home. She stood in the doorway, hair disheveled and a strange look on her face.
“It’s all set,” she said quietly. “I didn’t tell them anything, but they gave us permission to go.”
“Good,” I replied, though I didn’t feel much relief.
“You know,” she began, surprising me with a small laugh, “I never wanted to move here.”
I glanced at her, confused. “You didn’t?”
“No,” she shook her head, chuckling again. “Your dad loved this house. I never had the heart to tell him I hated it.”
For the first time in a long time, she talked about Dad without the usual sadness in her eyes, though it was still there, just dimmer. Maybe leaving would be a fresh start for both of us.
“I think this will be good for us,” she added, her voice carrying a rare note of hope. “It’s time to leave the past behind.”
“I think you’re right,” I said softly, though the thought of Leonardo Grimstone still tore at me. He would linger in my mind no matter how far we went.
We left within the hour. The Alpha and Luna allowed us to relocate to another pack, but we couldn’t live as rogues. I told Mom to choose wherever she wanted. The car ride was silent, though I spent most of it trying to hold back tears. I couldn’t help but compare my mother to Leonardo. She had given me everything, yet he couldn’t give me a chance.
I must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, we were pulling into the parking lot of a small hotel. The neon sign outside blinked in and out, casting a dim glow on the lot.
“Where are we?” I asked, still groggy as I climbed out of the car.
“Somewhere to rest,” Mom smiled, though she looked exhausted. “I drove for ten hours straight. I need to sleep.”
The next morning, we hit the road again. Mom said we were heading someplace warm, which made me think of the forests back home, and how much I would miss them. The drive dragged on, with only the occasional stop for food or a bathroom break. I kept asking where we were headed, but Mom refused to tell me. She insisted it was a surprise, and I didn’t have the heart to ruin her excitement.
By the time we reached the end of the drive, Mom was practically buzzing with energy. Her eyes flicked excitedly toward every building in the town we passed.
“We’re here,” she breathed, smiling at me as we stopped at a red light.
I looked around, confused. “Where’s here?”
“This is where I grew up,” she replied, her voice full of nostalgia. “Welcome to the Blood Moon pack.”
The name sounded familiar, though I couldn’t remember from where. She had mentioned it when I was a kid, I thought, but the memories were vague. As we drove through the town, she pointed out places she used to know. Her parents’ old hardware store had been turned into something else, but she smiled fondly at the memory.
“I was one of their warriors once,” she said proudly, catching me completely off guard.
“You?” I asked, astonished. “A warrior?”
She nodded, beaming. “Not the best, but I was. That’s how I met your dad.”
She fell quiet for a moment, her eyes glazing over as memories of him surfaced. But this time, the pain in her expression didn’t linger. It was as if coming back here had finally given her some peace.
“Maybe this place will do the same for me,” I thought, though I wasn’t sure I believed in happy endings anymore.