The Luna they threw away

Chapter 6

Hart POV

Four years.

Sometimes it feels like a lifetime; sometimes it hits me like it all happened yesterday.

Leaving Seattle was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but staying would’ve destroyed me. So I walked away with a small bag, a bruised heart, and Astra barely hanging on inside me. For a while, I didn’t know how to breathe without the weight of the pack behind me.

The first year was a mess.

Crying in public bathrooms, waking up from nightmares, pretending I was fine when I wasn’t even close. Astra stayed quiet most days, just a soft ache in the back of my mind. But she didn’t leave me. That’s the only thing that kept me moving.

Somewhere on a highway in the middle of nowhere, this older couple—Evelyn and George Barlow—found me sitting on the roadside. I didn’t look injured, just lost. And maybe that’s why they stopped. They let me stay with them for a couple of months. No questions. No pressure. Just kindness.

Their daughter lived in Portland and owned a café, so they sent me there.

Fresh start. New place. No wolves. No Alpha. No memories dragging me down.

Culinary school came next. Honestly, I picked it because I needed something to do, something to focus on that wasn’t the pain sitting in my chest. I didn’t expect to be good at it, but apparently heartbreak turns into motivation really fast.

That’s where I met Riley Hartman.

Loud. Smart. Sarcastic. Zero filter.

She talked to me like we were already friends.

“You look like you don’t have fun,” she told me on the first day. “I’m gonna fix that.”

She wasn’t lying.

Riley dragged me into life whether I wanted it or not.

Then came Mariah James, my personal assistant now. Organized, put-together, the type of woman who lives by her Google calendar. She keeps my schedule tight and makes sure I don’t forget to eat.

Between the two of them, I stayed human… even when I didn’t feel like one.

Graduating culinary school was the first time I felt like I could breathe again. I applied for a business loan, got denied twice, cried once, then on the third try—it happened.

That’s how Hart & Hearth Catering was born.

It started small. One stove, cheap ingredients, and a whole lot of stubbornness. I worked until I fell asleep over my laptop most nights. But it grew. It actually grew.

Now my catering company is one of the top two in Portland, Oregon.

I live in a high-rise apartment with a city view that still surprises me. Blonde hair now. Blue eyes that look almost brown when I wear red lipstick. My body’s stronger, toned from all the gym hours and secret runs with Astra when the forest is quiet enough.

I’m not rich, but I’m stable.

Middle-class and climbing.

People see me now and think I’ve always been confident.

They don’t know life punched me hard before I learned how to stand again.

And then today happened.

I was sorting receipts in my office when Riley burst in like a hurricane.

“Oh. My. GOD, Hart, listen—no, shut up—just LISTEN!” she said, slamming her bag onto my couch.

I didn’t even look up. “Riley, please. I’m working.”

“Yeah, and I’m trying to save your life,” she said, waving her hands everywhere. “My cousin is flying in from L.A. And girl—this man? Oh my god. He is PERFECT for you.”

I stared at her. “Riley, no.”

“Yes,” she insisted, pointing at me. “I’ve known you almost FOUR YEARS and I have NEVER—NEVER—seen you go on a successful date. You need to get laid or at least get a drink with someone who isn’t your accountant.”

I groaned. “Riley—”

“No! Let me finish,” she said, cutting me off. “My cousin is cute. Like actually cute. He owns his own business—CEO stuff. No kids, no baby mama, no crazy ex. Just him and his dog, Mike. Drives a luxury car. Brunette. Tall. Nice smile. Polite. Girl, this man is like… a walking green flag.”

I covered my face with my hands. “Why are you like this?”

“Because you’re gorgeous and you waste it!” she yelled. “You’re always working. Or training. Or wearing your hair in that tight-ass bun like you’re about to run a Fortune 500 company.”

“I DO run a company,” I reminded her.

“Not the point!” she snapped. “You need a NIGHT. Off. Fun. Drinks. Maybe some kissing if God loves me.”

I laughed despite myself.

She wasn’t wrong. I don’t date.

Haven’t even tried.

Astra hummed softly inside me, curious. “A drink isn’t a commitment,” she whispered.

Riley leaned forward. “Please, Hart. Just meet him. One drink. If you hate him, fine. But at least TRY.”

I sighed, defeated. “One drink.”

Riley screamed like she won a championship.

“Yes! Finally! I’m texting him. Girl, this is gonna be GOOD.”

I shook my head, but a small part of me wondered…

Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world

to stop being the girl who survived—

and start being a woman who actually lives again.