Chapter 4
1890 Words
Chapter 4
Wyatt and Rylee returned to the packhouse with Sam. When they walked in, he kicked off his shoes and headed straight for the crowd of pack members in the living room, all of whom were waving at him. Rylee couldn’t help but smile, seeing how loving the pack members were toward him.
Although she understood that some interactions were just polite friendliness, many pack members sincerely cared for Sam and Aurora. While Sam was busy high-fiving pack members and enjoying the admiration from female members captivated by his good looks, Melody and Kendrick approached with Leighann and Aurora. Leighann was holding Melody’s hand while walking side by side, and Aurora was sleeping soundly in Kendrick’s arms.
“How was she while we were gone?” Rylee asked, her voice soft with a mother’s worry, seeing her daughter fast asleep in her uncle’s arms.
“A little angel as always,” Kendrick replied, a warm, genuine smile creasing his eyes as he gently passed Aurora to Rylee. As soon as Rylee cradled her, Aurora stirred a bit, emitting a tiny, satisfied sigh before nuzzling into Rylee’s chest and falling right back asleep. The air around Rylee seemed to calm, a subtle scent of contentment and safety only a mother could emit.
“How do you do that?” Wyatt asked, the exasperation clear in his voice. He was always shocked that Aurora slept so soundly when Rylee or someone else held her, but the moment he did, she screamed bloody murder.
“A mother’s touch,” Rylee calmly replied, her gaze lingering on the delicate curve of her daughter’s cheek as she kissed it. A flicker of something — deep love mixed with a quiet, fierce protectiveness — crossed her features. “Though she’s been needing it more than usual lately.”
“How did it go with the teacher and the other parents? Did they try to make it difficult?” Melody asked Wyatt, her posture immediately tensing, as she was ready to defend her nephew.
“Better than we thought it would,” Wyatt admitted, running a hand through his hair, the residual stress of the meeting still clinging to him. “Turns out those parents are in the middle of a nasty divorce, and their toxic behavior toward one another wasn’t hidden from their son, so he thought being a bully was the right thing to do. That’s why he started to bully Sam.”
“Ew. I don’t get why grown-ass adults can’t keep their emotions in check with each other so that their kids don’t have to suffer,” Melody commented, clutching Leighann’s hand tighter, a silent vow to her own daughter.
“Rylee and I agreed never to raise our voices or speak unkindly to each other in front of the kids. We saw the ripple effect today,” Wyatt responded, his eyes meeting Rylee’s in a shared, binding promise.
“And that’s how it should be,” Kendrick stated. “I had to get on Keaton about that just last week.”
“Why?” Rylee asked, her attention momentarily pulled from Aurora.
“He and Irene got into a small squabble over whose turn it was to change Kara’s diaper,” Kendrick chuckled, a slightly weary undertone to the amusement. “He got a little loud with her and made her cry. It wasn't a fight, but the shift in his tone was enough to upset her.”
“I offered to kick his a*s, but Kendrick said I would only perpetuate the situation,” Melody grumbled, folding her arms.
“And he’s right about that, Dot,” Wyatt replied, stepping closer and placing a calming hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, Irene is the one who carried and birthed my niece. Keaton is acting like he did all of the work and complains that raising a pup is hard, as if he’s doing it on his own,” Melody stated, her loyalty burning bright.
Wyatt’s expression darkened, the easy camaraderie dissolving into a heavy silence. “Keaton is a young dad; he still has a lot to learn,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “And unfortunately, with Uncle Felix and Aunt Zoe busy helping Jason and Milan with the twins, and Mom and Dad constantly traveling these days, Keaton really only has Kendrick and me to teach him how to be a father. And in reality, we’re not that much better off either,” Wyatt grimly stated, pointing out the fact that Dylan was no longer with them to help. “That’s the hard truth, isn’t it? We’re all learning without the one person who always knew what to do. Try to be a little more sympathetic, huh?” Wyatt admonished his sister, the underlying grief for the loss of Kendrick and Keaton’s father, Dylan, finally cracking the surface of the conversation.
Melody flinched, the sharpness of his words cutting through her. She looked away, her defiant expression giving way to sudden, deep sadness. "You're right, Wyatt. I'm sorry." The argument was over, but the reminder of their lost guidance hung in the air, a silent, painful fifth presence among them. Even though more than a year had passed since Dylan’s death, his absence constantly reminded them that they all needed to support each other, no matter what.
That night, for the first time in a long while, all of the ranked members, except their constantly traveling parents, were gathered at the large, hand-carved mahogany table. The air, usually filled with the casual chatter of a family dinner, carried a subtle tension of significance. Jason and Milan finally decided to join the group for dinner, a silent yet powerful gesture of rejoining the pack.
Milan sat beside Jason, across from Rylee. She appeared noticeably softer and less guarded than she had in the months after the tragedy. With regular therapy and time spent with her twins and family, the heavy, dark cloud that had hung over her was finally beginning to lift. The survivor's guilt she had carried for so long—the painful question of why—started to fade, replaced by a fierce, quiet determination to live fully for the children she almost didn't get to raise.
“It’s good to see you two out of the nursery,” Kendrick said, raising a glass of water toward them.
Milan managed a genuine, though small, smile. “It’s good to be seen…” Milan took a slight pause and looked around at the faces of her close friends and family. “It feels good to be here.”
“How are you?” Melody simply asked.
“Better…”
“Really?” Melody looked at her skeptically.
“Really,” Milan answered. Melody looked at Rylee, who nodded. Milan was actually telling the truth this time. For the longest time, Milan would lie about how she was feeling, and it would set back her healing journey. The pack’s psychologist warned her that she needed to be honest with her feelings, no matter how she was feeling. Every time she lied, it only built resentment toward others, and Milan clearly didn’t want that. So, until she could be honest about her emotional state, she started to hide away in their room, the Silver Lake packhouse, or her parents’ house within the pack.
“Look, I know that I haven’t been the easiest person to be around after Uncle Dylan died, but I promise that I am getting better,” Milan started to say.
“Milan, you don’t have to—” Wyatt was going to tell her she didn’t have to explain herself, but Jason shook his head, stopping him. He sent Wyatt a quick mindlink.
The therapist said that her talking about her state of mind and reflecting on how her emotions could and have affected everyone else is something she needs to address.
She doesn’t have to apologize, Jason.
Not apologize. She has nothing to be sorry for. We all know that. But addressing it openly is part of the healing process. Exposing it and bringing it to light is supposed to help.
Really?
Yeah. He pretty much said that “unaddressed grief and guilt have a profound ripple effect that can damage a person's support system and prolong the healing process for everyone involved.”
Oh.
Wyatt and Jason ended their mindlink and listened as Milan addressed the group, explaining that she had never wanted her guilt to affect their daily lives, but she knew that, in some way, shape, or form, it had.
“I’ll admit, beneath all the grief, I felt a burning, ugly resentment toward you guys. It was a poison I kept swallowing. I was here, trapped in a grey, airless box of pure despair, feeling utterly sorry for myself, trying to claw my way toward some understanding of how to live this stolen life—the life that Dylan sacrificed his for me to have. Every breath felt like a profound, undeserved gift. And then there was you. As soon as the funeral was over, as soon as the last sod was turned, you all seemed to snap back. You went back to your routines, your jobs, your laughs, your plans—as if nothing had happened. You returned to living your full, messy, normal lives. That image, that certainty, fueled my rage. I told myself you were indifferent. I hammered it into my heart that you had simply forgotten him, that you had packed away your grief into some neat box and moved on.”
“Milan, how can we forget our father?” Kendrick said, slightly offended that Milan could even think such a thing.
“I know, Ken. I know better than that, but I couldn’t help it either. It made me feel so intensely lonely, so painfully betrayed by your ease. The sight of your simple happiness stirred a bitter, sharp envy that I am deeply ashamed of now. I was so traumatized that the only way I knew how to cope was to find someone to blame for the endless, crushing weight of my existence.” Milan took a deep breath and looked at the friends she considered her family. “And for that twisted thinking, for that self-imposed isolation and judging, I want to apologize.”
The group all looked at one another. No one had felt any resentment coming from Milan—well, perhaps Rylee did, but she knew that coldness wasn't how Milan truly felt; it was only the shrapnel of her overwhelming grief catching on everything around her.
Rylee looked at Milan with deep love and warmth, her eyes softening the harsh edges of Milan's confession. The anger in Milan's words, the self-flagellation, didn't bother Rylee; she saw the exhaustion beneath it all.
Rylee didn't speak a defense or offer an excuse. She simply nodded her head, once, a slow, gentle gesture that conveyed: I see you. I forgive you. There is nothing to forgive.
Then, a tear, bright and fast, tracked down Rylee's cheek. It wasn't a tear of sadness for Dylan, but a tear of relief that Milan had finally broken through the suffocating silence.
"We missed you too, Milan," Rylee finally whispered, her voice thick with tenderness. "We were just waiting for you to let us in."
- Writer
