38. Mara
Mara
The world has shrunk to the size of this bed, to the rough texture of the quilt against my cheek, damp with my tears.
I am curled into a tight ball, a knot of limbs and sorrow, trying to make myself as small as possible.
The cruel words my old pack used to hiss at me are on a loop in my head, a venomous chant that drowns out everything else. Needy little Omega. Always asking for too much. So insatiable. They were right. Look at me. I chased away the only people who have shown me any real kindness in years.
I hurt my best friend. The one person, the only family I had left, and I ruined her. I ruined everything.
After I ran up the stairs, I heard them follow. Gray and Leo. Their voices were soft, pleading, but I couldn't let them in. I couldn't let them see this pathetic, broken version of me.
"Please, just leave me alone," I begged through the door, my voice muffled by the pillow. Eventually, their footsteps retreated, leaving me in a blessed, agonizing silence.
Then comes the knock. A soft, hesitant rap on the door that makes me flinch.
"Mara? Baby, it's me. Daniel." His voice is muffled by the wood, but I can hear the raw, desperate edge to it. "Please, open the door. I just want to make sure you're okay. You're the love of my life, Mara. Leo and Gray are here, too. We're not going anywhere. Just… let us in."
The love of my life. The words are a knife twist in my chest. He doesn't mean that. He can't. He's just caught up in the heat, in the drama of it all. He's a good man, a loyal man, and he feels responsible. That's all.
I can't face him. I can't face the pity I know I'll see in his eyes, the confirmation that I am, indeed, a burden.
"I can't," I whisper into the pillow, the words swallowed by the fabric. "I'm sorry."
I hear him sigh on the other side of the door.
He stays there for a long time, silent, which is both a comfort and a torment.
I can picture him leaning his forehead against the wood, his hand resting on the doorknob, wanting to come in but respecting my wishes.
Finally, I hear his footsteps retreat down the stairs, and the silence that follows is absolute.
It's heavier than before, pressing down on me, confirming my worst fears.
I am alone. Again.
I don't know how long I lie there. Time loses all meaning. The light outside the window shifts from the gray of afternoon to the deep purple of twilight. The sounds from the café below fade and then disappear altogether. I am an island in a sea of darkness, and I am sinking fast.
Then, another knock. This one is different. Softer. More tentative. A light, gentle rap that barely makes a sound. I don't move. I don't have the energy to even flinch anymore.
"Mara, honey?" It's Margaret. Her voice is like a warm blanket, a familiarity from my childhood. "I know you're in there, sweet girl. And I know you don't want to see anyone. But I brought you something."
I hear a soft scraping sound, and then a thin, rectangular object is pushed under the door. It's a photograph, an old one, the colors gone soft and faded.
It's Tess and me from years ago. We're standing on the porch of this very café, our arms slung around each other's shoulders, grinning like fools. We're maybe sixteen, our faces full of hope and stupid, teenage dreams.
A fresh wave of tears wells up in my eyes.
We were so happy. So innocent.
"I've always thought of you as a daughter, you know," Margaret says, her voice soft and clear through the wood. "From the day we brought you home from that hospital, you were ours. And you still are. Nothing will ever change that."
Her words are a balm on my raw, open wounds. I press my forehead against the floor, my body shaking with silent sobs.
"I'm so sorry everything feels so broken right now, honey," she continues.
"I know it hurts. I know you're hurting for Tess, and you're hurting for yourself.
But you are not broken. You are the strongest, most resilient person I know.
And you are so, so loved. You belong here, with us. This is your home."
She pauses, letting her words sink in.
"Daniel and those boys… they love you. I see it in their eyes every time they look at you.
Daniel told us everything that happened.
I know it's hard to see past the hurt you're feeling right now.
It's not just the heat, Mara. It's real.
And I love you. And Henry loves you. And Tess…
oh, honey, Tess is angry. She's hurt and confused, and she lashed out.
But she loves you. She loves you more than anyone in this world.
She's just lost right now. She'll find her way back. I promise."
Her words are a lifeline, a rope thrown into the dark, turbulent ocean of my despair. They don't fix everything. They don't magically erase the pain or the guilt. But they give me something to hold onto. They give me hope.
I slowly push myself up, my body stiff and sore.
I crawl to the door and unlock it. I pull it open to find Margaret standing there, her face etched with concern, her arms open.
I fall into them, and she holds me, rocking me gently, just like she used to when I was a little girl and I'd woken up from a nightmare.
"It's okay," she whispers, stroking my hair. "It's all going to be okay."
Margaret comes back with a second cup of cocoa, the steam curling up in a fragrant cloud. She places it in my hands, the ceramic warm against my cold skin. "Drink up, honey. You need the sugar."
I take a sip of the sweet, chocolatey liquid. "Where are the guys?" I ask.
"They're over at the house," she says, wiping down the counter. "Giving you some space. Daniel said you needed some time."
A complicated feeling mixes with the warmth in my chest. Part of me is relieved, but another part, a newer, needier part, aches for their presence. "Did they… did they say anything?"
"Just that they loved you and that they were worried," she says gently. "And that they'd be back in the morning. Do you want to talk to them tonight?"
I shake my head. "Maybe in the morning." I can't face them yet. I can't face the complicated tangle of my feelings for them and the crushing guilt I feel over Tess.
She nods, accepting my answer without question. "How are you feeling? With the after-heat, I mean. Is there anything you need? Any pain? Cramping?"
The question, so simple and so caring, sends a fresh wave of tears through me. I thought the heat was over, but the emotional aftermath is a storm of its own. "I'm okay," I lie, my voice cracking. "Just… tired."
She pulls me into another hug, her arms strong and familiar. "Oh, sweet girl. It's okay to be tired. It's okay to be anything you need to be. Just get some rest. We can all talk in the morning."
After she leaves, I move through the café on autopilot. I lock the front door, the deadbolt sliding home with a heavy, final thud. I wash the few cups we used, the clink of ceramic against the sink a lonely sound in the quiet room. Then, with the lantern held high, I head back up to my room.
I pick up my phone. The screen lights up, showing the time: 1:00 a.m. There are no notifications. No texts from Tess. The space where her name should be feels like a physical void.
My thumb hovers over her contact. I start to type a message, my fingers clumsy.
Tess, I'm so sorry. But the words feel inadequate, pathetic.
I delete them. I try again. Please call me.
No, that's too demanding. I delete that, too.
I take a deep breath, my heart aching. A phone call feels more real, more vulnerable.
It's a risk, but it's one I have to take.
I press her name and put the phone to my ear. It rings once, twice, then goes straight to voicemail. "Hey, it's Tess. Leave a message."
I hang up, my throat tight. I try again. This time, I wait through the rings, my heart pounding with each one. Voicemail again. I take a shaky breath and start talking, my voice a raw, emotional whisper.
"Tess, it's me… again. I know you're angry, and you have every right to be.
I just… I needed you to know that I love you.
You're my sister, my family. I never meant to hurt you.
Seeing your face today… it broke my heart.
I'm so, so sorry. Please, just… call me back when you can.
Or don't. Just… be safe, okay? I love you… "
I go quiet, a sense of hopeless finality settling over me. Just then, a sharp knock echoes from downstairs. My head snaps up. My heart leaps into my throat.
It has to be Tess. She came back. She's here to reconcile.
"Tess? I miss you, okay? I'm sorry."
I hang up the phone without a second thought and scramble out of bed, not even bothering to put on shoes. I run down the stairs, taking them two at a time, my bare feet silent on the cold wood. I'm hoping, I'm praying, that she's on the other side of that door, ready to forgive me.
I unlock the door and pull it open. There's no one there. The porch is empty, the snow on the railing undisturbed. A cold dread washes over me. Was I imagining things? Was it just the wind, creaking against the old wood?
I'm about to turn, to go back to my lonely room, when another knock sounds. This one is different. A heavy, thudding sound that seems to come from all directions at once.
I turn slowly, my blood running cold. My heart drops to my stomach. Standing in the middle of the dark café, just inside the door, is a tall figure in a heavy wool coat, his face hidden in the shadows of the hood.
I know that silhouette. I know that posture. I know the arrogant, entitled way he stands, as if he owns the very air he breathes.
My breath catches in my throat, a choked, terrified sound.
"Jonathan," I whisper.
How did he get in?
And what the hell is he doing here?