The Wildflower Series

by Rachelle Mills

  Still, the Wild would not release me, so we fucked and fucked until I thought your heart would give out. When the door opened up and your parents looked at us as if we were doing something wrong, I wanted to crawl underneath you. Instead, you put me behind your back and told me to get dressed. We didn’t see each other again until my heat died down, and when I saw you, I laughed in your face.

  I lied to you, Cash. I lied and lied because I was upset with myself. I felt a lot of guilt because Clayton and I promised each other that there would be no others for us. We would be each other’s first and last. Even though you were my mate, I felt as if I were cheating on Clayton. I felt sick and wanted you to feel sick too. I wanted to torture you. I managed to do a really good job of that, didn’t I? The awful things I said, I didn’t mean it, Cash. I didn’t mean all of that. I wanted you to hurt. I needed you to hurt so I wasn’t hurting alone.

  That was about me. It was about me understanding how easy Clayton will be able to be with Rya if he gives himself the chance. I knew I’d only be a memory for him, eventually, and inside I was twisted up about it. Nothing good was inside me then, Cash. I blocked everything good up inside me so only the shit could spill and spew out of my mouth. Clayton was going to forget about me, and I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle everything that happened, and you were there to take everything I could give you. Deep down, it was also me understanding that Clayton would become a memory for me the longer I stayed with you.

  I’m sorry.

  I just wish that things were different between us. I’ve silenced you, haven’t I? You can’t even really talk to me about anything because you think I will judge you, so you think it’s better to keep quiet than open your mouth and talk to me. It’s the same for me. I want to talk to you, but I just don’t know how.

  You put the cribs up today. I watched you work, and when you were finished, you had this smile on your face. A big proud smile that made you look like a juvenile wolf who just caught his first rabbit. When I didn’t smile back, you lost that smile, and I should have said, good job—something, anything—but I didn’t, and you walked out of the room with something throbbing inside your chest.

  Sometimes I don’t know how to say thank you. The words get stuck in my throat, and I can’t seem to say anything, so I stay silent. I’m quiet around you because I don’t know what to really say to you, how to talk to you. What can we say that needs to be said? We both are weaved so tight into our skins that I don’t think we could really undress ourselves to the other. So I’m writing as a way to show you my bones. It’s not pretty. I’m not beautiful on the inside, am I?

  Your insides are still good, Cash. They aren’t twisted and blocked like mine; there’s hope for you. Don’t let this keep you twisted up or blocked from experiencing the life you should be living. I’m going to be the story you tell our children. Be kind to my memory with them. Kids need to feel like their mothers are good wolves, not some evil villain that gives them nightmares and fucks up their entire lives up.

  Kennedy

  Chapter 13

  Grief-eater Consumes Regret

  This is not another bad choice, I keep saying over in my head as I try not to loosen the tie that feels like a noose around my neck. The flowers smell sweet. They were her favorite flowers to draw. Kennedy learned how to sketch the wildflowers first before she moved onto more complicated things. It was the first thing I drew that felt right after her death.

  Room service has left, and I count to three before knocking on the door. This is not a bad choice. When the door opens, it’s hard not to freeze up.

  She’s dripping in red…

  “You look beautiful.” Stepping into her space, she smells exactly like Kennedy. Another inhale and I could stand here all day with my nose buried into her neck pretending. But this isn’t about pretending; this is about good-bye.

  “These are for you.” I can’t stop staring at her eyes; they look exactly like Kennedy’s, except without the hurt.

  It’s a quick kiss I press against her lips, and she tastes exactly like Kennedy. I can’t stop tasting my own lips now, with her scent on them.

  “You look good, Cash. Please come in.” Everything smells like her; everything in this room smells exactly like Kennedy. The low light plays tricks on my eyes, and I see the illusion of Kennedy smiling at me with red lips. Not Hazel.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered for you.” Hazel makes it easy to forget she’s here and I’m now with Kennedy. I drop the small bag near the door for later.

  “No, I don’t mind.” She turns, leading me into a room where dinner is set up. Through the window, the city lights bleed into the night. The food is formal, elegant, and everything that Kennedy always wanted to try. Red wine is in the decanter.

  “What’s your Wi-Fi password?” She tells me, and I put on Kennedy’s playlist through the system the penthouse comes with.

  Pulling out the chair for her to sit, I tuck her into the table before I take a seat. I can’t stop staring at her. I can’t stop seeing Kennedy sitting across from me. She smiles, and I know this is all right. The pretend is all right for now.

  The wine pours smoothly into her glass, and I pour myself one as well. She waits until I’ve put the first piece of steak into my mouth before she takes a bite.

  “We never had room service together. I never bought her flowers. This is something that I have always wanted to do for Kennedy.” A confession without judgment by the female sitting across from me. She listens while taking a few sips of the wine.

  “Why didn’t you?” She searches my face.

  “Because I was a stupid little weak wolf.”

  “Were you a juvenile when you met her?” She’s trying to give me an excuse. I have none.

  “No, I was full-grown but very stupid.” I choose not to look at her, but out the window at the casinos with billboard neon lights that are too harsh for eyes that want to de-focus.

  “Aren’t we all sometimes?” She takes another drink, no judgment. Nothing but a soft smile that takes away the tension of my shoulders.

  “I just wanted to have a nice dinner with her. I wanted to show her I could be a wolf she felt proud of on her arm. I wanted her to love me more.” My confession is felt in a tear that drips from the corner of my eye.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “Sorry.” I wipe my eye before cutting into another piece of steak; she drinks more wine.

  “What happened?” Her body leans into the table, a glass of wine held in her hand. No opinion on her face. She seems neutral, safe even.

  “I found her, but she was in love with someone else. Someone better than me, stronger than me, someone who gave her everything she needed to reject me. I just wouldn’t take no for her answer. So I forced my mark on her in a ceremony that meant nothing at the time. That dress you’re wearing is something I think she would have worn at a proper mating ceremony in our pack. You look beautiful in it.” The glass of wine does nothing to take away the dryness from my throat, so I put the glass down.

  “How long were you mated before she died?”

  “Not even a year. My mark faded so fast that I don’t even really remember what it looked like.” My hand drifts to the spot where nothing remains.

  Those eyes stare into mine. “Can I kiss you the way I have always wanted to kiss her?”

  Her brows furrow. “You never kissed her?”

  “Not the way she should have been kissed by me.” I can’t face those eyes and have to repeat that this isn’t a bad choice before I can pull my head up and look into those eyes again.

  “Would you like to dance?” I ask as nicely as I can. I need to move; I can’t sit here anymore.

  “Of course.” She waits for me to pull her chair out and take her hand to help her out. She lets me lead.

  “I’ve never danced with her.”

  Hazel says nothing back. She just sways with me with her arms around my neck while I close my eyes and inhale. It’s now Kennedy that I’m holding; it’s Kenne
dy who is allowing me to lead; it’s Kennedy that I feel underneath my palms. Her body moves with mine.

  “Can I kiss you?” This is Kennedy I want to kiss…

  “Yes,” she breathes.

  Holding the back of her head in my hand, I tilt her lips to mine. She keeps her eyes open, and I keep mine open as I touch my lips to hers. Gentle, slow, nothing like what we shared before. There are no teeth, no blood, nothing but lips on lips.

  Can she taste my tears?

  Her smell is there through my tears, her smell is there through my sobs, and her smell is there for the pain. Arms hold me through this, and I can taste her tears now.

  I taste her scent on skin, I taste her along her neckline, and I smell her scent on hair.

  Her chest presses into mine. I can feel the press of her body. My body wants to press itself into her.

  “Tell me what you want, Kennedy?”

  “I want you, Cash.”

  Inhaling. Inhaling. Inhaling.

  The sound of the zipper pulls down her dress, my hands all over her curves, eyes not leaving her eyes. The dress comes off.

  Closing my eyes, letting my tongue taste her. Suck her flesh into my mouth, leaving the impression of teeth across her collarbone.

  She gasps. I feel her tremor in my arms.

  Picking her up, face to face, I kiss her all the way to the bed with eyes open.

  My tongue enters her mouth, and she opens wide for me. She feels soft and light; her chest crushes against my chest. My balls pull up. Fuck, I’m hard.

  Inhaling. Inhaling. Inhaling.

  I’ve missed this smell. I’ve forgotten what she smells like.

  Eyes open to eyes.

  Kennedy is here with me…

  I place her on the bed, face to face. She watches as I take off the suit jacket and climb on top of her on the bed.

  She smiles.

  I crawl over her body and press my hips to hers.

  Face to face.

  Her fingers start to undo the buttons of my shirt, and I grind into her, feeling Kennedy between my legs. Inhaling, she feels so good. I don’t close my eyes. I can’t look away from her.

  The zipper of my pants pulls down; she inhales as she tugs them down my thighs.

  She spreads her legs wider as I settle between them, rubbing against the thinness of her wet underwear.

  I inhale as I make my way down her neck to her breasts. Her bra gets taken off, and I get to run my tongue across her nipples. She arches her back and rubs herself against my cock.

  Inhaling…

  Moving my way down her stomach, to her underwear line, pulling them off. Spreading her legs and letting my tongue work her center. Her hips move up off the bed, and nails are now in my head, anchoring me to her.

  Inhaling…

  She pulses around my finger, and now I am heavy with a need to be inside her.

  Raising up, she spreads her legs wide, and I enter her with a grunt.

  Eyes never leaving eyes.

  She holds me, wraps herself around me.

  I kiss her; she kisses me back, all lips no teeth. No blood.

  Pushing in, dragging my cock out, a whimper comes out from my throat as I push back in one last time to explode inside her.

  Eyes locking on eyes.

  “I love you.” I say it like goodbye.

  Closing my eyes on her, holding the scent one last time to my nose. She holds me against her. The tears don’t stop.

  Sobs begin to turn to silence. The tears stop, and finally I can pull my head off her chest.

  “I have one request before I leave.” It’s Hazel I’m looking at. Kennedy’s eyes are blurring away.

  “What is it?”

  “I want you to shave my head.”

  Hazel smiles with smeared red lips. “Of course I will, Cassius.”

  Letter 13

  Cash,

  I’m tired today and you looked tired too—we both are tired. You came in, standing close to the door before you step inside the room. You hesitate. It’s like you feel out the mood and either enter or walk away depending on me.

  Don’t hesitate, Cash. Don’t hesitate in your life because of me. You can’t.

  I’ve decided I’m not going to fall in love with you. I’m not, because I don’t want you to fall in love with me. We’re messy enough. We don’t need to add love between us. You deserve to be loved, and you deserve to fall in love. Just not with me. I won’t give you that memory to hold onto. It’s easier for both of us if we keep the love away.

  My love has been given to Clayton, and I don’t know how to love you in a way you should be. So I’m going to let someone else love you the way it could have been between us. You’ll give them love, and they will give you love back. Something special, something just for you and her to share. You’re going to need to leave me out of your love. You can’t bring me into the relationship because it won’t work. So I’m not going to love you. I’m not going to say I love you. I’m not going to let you kiss me. No matter how much I want you to now, I’m not going to give in to what it would feel like to have something gentle against me. I’m too far gone to be saved, and I’m too selfish to give my love of Clayton up for you. I’m no saint and you’re no villain. Please try to remember that.

  We share a bond, but we don’t have love.

  Don’t be afraid to love. It’s beautiful and wonderful. Don’t let someone fix you up. Fix yourself up first, then you’re ready to be loved again. Don’t break someone’s heart because you weren’t ready to be loved, that’s just cruel, and I know you’re not cruel.

  Kennedy

  Chapter 14

  Regret in Open Letters

  The buzz of the hair clipper echoes around the marble walls of the bathroom.

  “Are you ready?” Hazel asks. I nod my head, and she starts on the right side of my head. The strip of hair comes off easily, much easier than I thought it would.

  “Are you going to take your beard off?” Another strip of hair comes off, falling around the legs of the chair.

  “I was thinking about it.”

  “You should. Fresh face, a new you.” She doesn’t look at me when she talks. She’s focused on taking off the hair, and I think she’s enjoying it.

  “Have you done this before?”

  “I cut Tate’s hair at home when he lets me but never buzzed his entire head.”

  “Is that your boyfriend?” She stops, clipper held in her hand.

  “No, Tate’s not my boyfriend, but he’s more than a friend. It’s hard to explain.” She starts on another strip, curling the clipper around the back of my ear.

  “Does he know what you do?”

  “He knows.”

  “Does he care?”

  “Nope, not really.” She takes a sip from the edge of the whiskey glass without making a face at how strong it is to drink it neat. She went through the second bottle of wine while I was showering and asked if I’d like a glass. She poured me one, no ice, straight whiskey. The way it’s meant to be sipped, she said.

  “I’m not sure I’m going to give to your charity anymore. I don’t like how you use the donations.” Hazel now judges me.

  “You don’t have to worry about that. I didn’t spend that money. Donations are barely enough to cover the costs to keep the program running. I sell coloring books online and do all graphics and media promotion for the farm.”

  Hazel kind of laughs out loud. “You sell coloring books?”

  “I do. Are you judging what I do for a living?” She stops for a moment and gives me a big smile without any lipstick left on her lips. She points the clippers in the mirror at me with an angle to her head.

  “I would never judge a wolf’s way of life. If you want to draw coloring books for kids, by all means, do it, but be the best fucking coloring bookmaker you can be.” She takes another sip of whiskey. I haven’t touched mine. I’m not really a whiskey drinker.

  “It’s cut-throat out there.”

  “How do you do?” Hazel fin
ishes what’s in her glass.

  “I do all right. It’s enough.”

  “Are you in stores?”

  “No, just online.”

  “I know someone who owns this big chain of grocery stores. I could get your product in there for five percent of your sales.” Now her smile is shrewd business, a hint of teeth showing.

  “You get me into those stores and you’re going to take five percent of the profits?”

  “Sounds fair.” She continues to cut my hair.

  “If you can get me into those stores, I’ll give you your five percent.”

  “Deal.” The sound comes out crisp.

  She doesn’t stand too close to me while cutting my hair. My space and her space don’t mix. Her robe is secured tight, and I have on my old clothes again.

  Our business is over.

  Hazel works on the left side now. “You live on a farm?”

  “No, well, actually our territory holds a farm on it. It’s getting bigger and bigger since Rya came. It started with the bees when she planted this field of wildflowers.”

  “A field of wildflowers?”

  “We didn’t question it. She said she needed it, so we planted it. Then the next year, the bees came. They swarmed, so we bought the containers and collected honey. Rya started to give it away as presents to visiting packs or when she went for a visit. Some wolves asked if they could buy more from her, and the next thing that happens is the pack is in the honey business.” Hazel stops cutting my hair to listen. She takes my untouched glass and starts to drink from it like it’s water.

  “After the second year, Rya planted a lot of fruit trees. She wants the pups to be able to climb and pick fruit right from the trees. She started visiting different packs, and some had an animal that they couldn’t care for anymore, so we have a pig, Mrs. Oink, and a goat called Mr. Bill.”