28. Allie #2
“We should have a proper reopening,” Holly said, handing out cups of tea that steamed with the smell of chamomile and honey. “A celebration for the new beginning.”
“Next weekend.” Greel looked around proudly at the restored space. “That’ll give you time to restock and organize.”
Everyone got excited. Plans formed for a community celebration with pottery demonstrations, music, and food from the saloon and restaurant. Tourists promised to spread the word, some extending their stays to attend.
As people packed up to leave, I stood in the middle of the restored pottery barn, breathing in the wonderful smells. Tressa’s claws clicked on the floor as she made a final check of the building.
Hail came over to stand beside me, his arm going around my shoulders as we looked at the finished product. Clay and paint still clung to his hands after a day of creating rather than destroying.
“What are you th-thinking?” he asked as dusk gathered.
“That I’m home,” I said simply. “For the first time in years, I’m really home.”
His arm tightened around me, then he leaned over to kiss me. “Good, because I was-was-was planning on keeping you.”
Tressa came to us, her tail wagging. The pottery barn was secure again, and her pack was safe, which meant everything was alright. She lay at our feet with a contented sigh, her amber eyes catching the last of the sunlight.
The following weekend, the pottery barn buzzed with activity for the reopening celebration.
I’d spent the morning arranging displays, setting out Hail’s new pieces that gleamed on freshly painted shelves.
The kiln had worked perfectly with its new parts, producing pottery with his signature rich colors.
The glazes looked deeper than before, the blues and greens reminding me of the oceans and forests I’d seen during my travels.
“Everything looks perfect,” Margaret said, studying the mugs and bowls. She and her husband had extended their vacation another week to attend the celebration they’d helped make possible. “The colors are incredible.”
“Better than perfect,” Grannie added from her chair by the front door. Holly had added cushions, and it looked like a throne. “Your mate has outdone himself with these new pieces.”
Hail’s work had changed since the attack. It was like he’d put his emotions into clay and created something extraordinary. Each item caught light and held it, making the whole room feel warmer.
People arrived steadily all afternoon. Children pressed faces against display cases, fogging the glass as they stared at tiny animal figurines.
Adults picked up mugs, feeling their weight, running their fingers over smooth glazes with wonder.
I heard appreciative comments and delighted exclamations while smelling fresh flowers Hail had arranged in vases around the room, telling me I was taking them all home to adorn our bedroom.
He’d tugged one wildflower from a vase and tucked it behind my ear, kissing the tip of my nose after.
“Allie,” Detective Fernandez called from the doorway where he was peering around. He looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, wearing casual clothes instead of his usual suit. “This place looks incredible.”
“Thank you.” I went to greet him. “Any news about Will?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but my belly tightened just saying his name.
His expression turned serious. “Trial’s set for next month. With the physical evidence and one of his men turning witness, stating he saw Will messing with your father’s car before the accident, it’s an open-and-shut case. I believe he’ll be convicted and spend the rest of his life in prison.”
I should’ve felt relieved but instead felt only quiet satisfaction. Will wasn’t my problem anymore. He belonged to the justice system, and I belonged here, with this community that had claimed me.
“The paintings?” I asked, not sure why I cared. They seemed part of someone else’s life now.
“Still missing,” he said with a shrug. “Could be anywhere. Without more information, we may never find them.”
As evening came, everyone gathered outside for the official reopening ceremony. The air smelled like barbecue from grills in the parking area.
Dungar spoke about community resilience, his voice carrying across the crowd. Holly gave Hail a ceremonial ribbon to cut, bright red against the cream walls. Grannie offered a blessing that mixed wisdom with practical fire safety advice, her voice strong despite her age.
When Hail cut the ribbon, the crowd cheered, and tears came to my eyes. Not sad ones, but ones that showed how grateful I felt. Not long ago, I was running, alone, trusting no one. Now I stood surrounded by people who’d fought for me, worked for me, welcomed me completely.
“Here’s to the n-n-new beginning,” Hail cried out. His gaze found mine, his smile heating me through. “Welcome home, love.”
The crowd moved inside for the evening’s festivities, their voices rising as they toured the fully restored space. I stayed outside a moment longer, breathing the cool mountain air mixed with the scent of evergreens. Tressa sat beside me, her eyes reflecting moonlight.
Tomorrow would bring classes to teach, pottery to fire, tourists to welcome. New challenges would come, the normal problems of building a life in the place you’ve chosen.
But tonight, standing outside the pottery barn with my wolf and my community celebrating inside, I felt something entirely new, the deep peace of knowing exactly where I belonged. No more running, no more fear—just this place, these people, this life all of us were building together.
The sound of an approaching vehicle caught my attention. The dark sedan looked out of place among the pickup trucks and SUVs that usually traveled these roads. They stopped in front of the saloon and a man in a suit stepped out, looking around before his gaze fell on me.
Something about his posture made me tighten my spine. He was too alert, too focused for a tourist.
Tressa stood up beside me, her hackles rising as she watched the stranger approach.
A chill that had nothing to do with the evening air ripped through me.