Chapter 46 #3
"I know, mon fils." Papa's voice was gentle now, so gentle it made me cry harder, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
"I miss him too. We all do. But missing him doesn't mean you have to disappear too.
It doesn't mean you have to punish yourself forever.
" A pause, heavy with emotion, and I could hear him fighting to steady his own breathing.
"Luc is gone. Nothing will ever change that.
But you're still here. You're still alive.
And I need you to start living like it."
"I don't know how," I admitted, the words scraped raw from somewhere deep inside me, my voice cracking on every syllable. "I don't know how to be okay. I've been broken for so long, I don't remember what whole feels like."
"Then let us help you." The words were so simple, so earnest, that they cracked something open inside me—something that had been locked tight for over a decade.
"Let us be your family again. Let us love you the way we should have been loving you all along.
" His voice steadied, grew stronger, carrying the weight of a promise.
"You said you have a pack now. An Omega.
Brothers. That means you've already started healing, Remy.
You've already started letting people in. So let us in too. Please."
"I'm sorry," I choked out, barely able to form the words through the tears, not even sure what I was apologizing for anymore.
For leaving. For staying away. For all the years we'd lost. For being too broken and too proud to pick up the phone.
For making my mother cry every time she passed my room.
For making my father sit alone in his study, looking at old photos and grieving for a son who was still alive. "Papa, I'm so sorry—"
"Shh, mon fils." My father's voice was gentle now, the voice I remembered from before everything fell apart, the voice that used to tell me bedtime stories and teach me to fish.
The voice that used to call me his little troublemaker, his charmer, his joy.
"It's done. It's past. What matters now is that you called.
" A pause, and when he spoke again, I could hear the smile breaking through his tears.
"What matters is that my son has finally found his way home. "
"I love you, Papa." The words came out before I could stop them, words I hadn't said in over a decade, words that felt like breaking open and healing all at once.
My voice was wrecked, barely recognizable, but I pushed through anyway.
"I love you and Maman and Jean-Pierre, and I'm so sorry I made you think I didn't. I'm so sorry I ran. "
"We love you too, Remy." His voice cracked, but he kept going, fierce and sure, each word a promise carved in stone.
"We never stopped. We never will. No matter how far you run, no matter how long you stay away—you will always, always be our son.
Nothing will ever change that. Do you understand me? Nothing."
I sat there on the dock, phone pressed to my ear, crying like I hadn't cried since I was sixteen years old standing over my brother's grave.
The sobs wracked my whole body, shaking me apart, and somewhere in the distance I could hear the bayou birds calling and Gumbo rumbling in the water, the world going on around me while I finally—finally—let myself fall apart.
Crying for Luc, for my parents, for all the years I'd wasted running from a forgiveness that had been waiting for me all along.
Crying for the boy I used to be and the man I was trying to become.
Crying because for the first time in twelve years, I actually believed I might deserve to be happy.
Eventually, the tears slowed. I wiped my face with my shirt, the fabric coming away soaked, and took a shuddering breath, trying to remember why I'd called in the first place.
"The legal help," I said, my voice hoarse and wrecked, barely more than a rasp. "For Artemis. Can you—"
"I'll make some calls tonight," my father said firmly, all business now, the powerful attorney I remembered from my childhood slipping back into place like armor.
But I could hear the love underneath, the fierce protectiveness that had always been there even when I was too blind to see it.
"Crescent Holdings, you said? I know people who've dealt with them before.
They're aggressive, but they're not invincible.
If your Omega's family really does have documentation going back to eighteen forty-seven, we can bury them in historical precedent alone. "
"Thank you," I breathed, relief flooding through me so hard my legs went weak, and I was grateful I was already sitting down. Fresh tears pricked at my eyes—grateful ones this time. "Papa, thank you—"
"Don't thank me yet," he interrupted, but his voice was warm, thick with emotion he was trying to hide behind his businesslike tone, and I could hear the smile breaking through.
"Thank me when we've won. And Remy?" A pause, and I could hear him take a steadying breath, could picture him straightening in his chair, pulling himself together the way he always did.
"Bring her to meet us. Your Omega. Your pack.
Your mother will want to feed everyone, and I.
.." Another pause, thick with emotion, his voice cracking slightly despite his best efforts.
"I want to meet the people who brought my son back to life. "
I laughed—a wet, broken sound that was half-sob, half-joy, tears still streaming down my face even as I smiled so hard it hurt. "Yeah, Papa. Yeah, I'll bring them. Soon."
"Good." I could hear him smiling through his own tears, could picture the expression on his weathered face—the same face I saw in the mirror every morning. "Now go be with your pack, mon fils. We'll talk soon."
The line went dead, and I sat there staring at the phone in my hand, feeling like I'd just run a marathon and crossed the finish line to find everything I'd ever wanted waiting for me on the other side.
Footsteps on the dock behind me, soft and careful.
I turned to find Artemis walking toward me, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, catching the golden afternoon light like a halo.
Her eyes were soft with concern, her bare feet silent on the weathered wood as she approached.
"Hey," she said quietly, settling down beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched, her warmth seeping into my side. She smelled like wildflowers and home. "You okay? You've been out here a while."
I looked at her—really looked at her, this fierce, beautiful woman who'd seen through all my masks and loved the broken man underneath. This Omega who'd given me a home, a pack, a reason to stop running.
"I called my father," I said, and watched her eyes go wide with surprise.
"Remy—" she breathed, her fingers tightening around mine, her dark eyes shining with sudden emotion.
"He's going to help," I continued, reaching out to take her hand, threading my fingers through hers.
"With Crescent. With all of it. He's got connections, knows people who've dealt with them before.
" I swallowed hard, fresh tears pricking at my eyes.
"And he... he wants to meet you. Meet all of us.
He said—" My voice broke, and I had to stop, had to breathe.
"He said he never blamed me. For Luc. All these years, and he never blamed me. "
Artemis pulled me into her arms, and I buried my face in her neck and breathed in her scent—wildflowers and something sweet, home and comfort and everything I'd ever needed. Her fingers threaded through my hair, holding me close, her heartbeat steady against my chest.
"I'm so proud of you," she murmured against my hair, her voice thick with emotion, her hands stroking down my back in soothing circles. "That must have been so hard. But you did it. For us."
"For you," I corrected, pulling back just enough to see her face, to cup her cheek in my palm, my thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped down her cheek.
"For our pack. For our home." I pressed my forehead to hers, closed my eyes, breathed her in.
"I'm done running, chere. I'm done hiding from the hard things.
Whatever comes next, I'm facing it. With you. "
She kissed me then—soft and sweet and full of promise—and when we finally pulled apart, I saw Harper and Silas standing at the edge of the dock, watching us with matching expressions of quiet understanding.
Harper's massive arms were crossed over his chest, his gray eyes soft with something that looked like pride.
Silas stood slightly behind him, his pale gaze steady and knowing, his scarred hands loose at his sides.
"Everything okay?" Harper asked, his deep voice carrying across the water, rough with concern beneath the calm exterior. I looked at my pack. My family. Felt something warm and solid settle in my chest where there had only been emptiness for so long.
"Yeah," I said, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, I actually meant it.
A smile spread across my face—a real one, not the charming mask I usually wore.
"Everything's okay. Better than okay." I stood, pulling Artemis up with me, keeping her hand in mine.
"Let's go inside. I've got a lot to tell you. "
We walked back to the cabin together, the four of us, as the sun sank lower over the bayou and painted everything in shades of gold and amber. Behind us, Gumbo rumbled his approval and slipped back beneath the water.
I'd spent years running—first across the country, then to the safety of my houseboat just an hour away. Close enough to pretend I might go back someday. Far enough to avoid actually doing it.
Now I was finally ready to stop running and start living.