“I can’t believe it’s been seven years,” Jia whispered as her hands interlocked with Daniel’s.
“I know,” His eyes welled with tears and he wiped at them uselessly. “It still hurts so much.”
“I think it always will, Dan.”
His eyes settled hard upon the little tombstone at the bottom of the garden. It was surrounded by Jasmine bushes and various other flower beds along with ribbons and teddy bears from the pack’s own memorial service that had been held a few hours earlier.
It was a beautiful stone selected with great care and consideration. It held the memory of William Greenwood, their third child. He was born too soon and under so much stress and trauma that he hadn’t survived. There was nothing that could have been done, Jia was hemorrhaging and Daniel had a decision to make.
He had
