I shrug. “The ones who weren’t so lucky…I wish there was something we could have done for them sooner. Before?—”
“You’ll drive yourself crazy if you worry about it. You did the best you could.” His eyes shone. “You saved me, Mandi. And more importantly, you saved yourself. I thought I was proud of you before, but seeing what you’ve been able to accomplish, holy shit.”
My wolf prowls beneath the surface of my skin and pushes higher at his words, his compliment. “I did what anyone would do. And you’re selling yourself short again. We never would have made it this far without you.”
His smile widens and he settles against the mountain of pillows. He has more than the others, which makes me suspect Holly has been here, sneaking him extra supplies.
“Or maybe I’m trying to remind you of what’s important. You’re giving to everyone else, but you’ve never given to yourself. Now is the time to remember you’re important too. You need sleep, love.”
The same electric zing I’ve always felt at his touch sends sparks through my system with the name.
“I will,” I say. “When everyone else is fine. I know my limits.”
“I’m not sure you do.” His eyes darken with concern and humor. “Lucky for me I get to be around to remind you. I?—”
A throat clears but it takes several seconds longer for the spell to shatter and for me to pull my attention away from Grayson.
Shock fuses my bones together. Dad stands in the doorway of the care unit.
His gaze sweeps the room, the cots filled with bodies of innocent, normal werewolves talking in low voices to the other healers and nurses we brought in to care for them.
The same werewolves he’d planned to execute.
I swallow down my anxiety and pull my hand to my side. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time,” Grayson replies. “I’ll be here. You and your dad need your moment.”
He’s not going anywhere until he’s healed. And while I wait for the day he’s finally whole, I have a few things left to do.
Days have passed since the last time I saw my father and he submitted to me. I wonder if he’s taken the time to process what happened the same way I have.
Has he come to terms with me being an alpha? Because I haven’t. Not yet.
I approach Dad on steady legs and stop with feet to spare. “I never expected you to come.”
Dark circles brush like a painter’s sweep of color above his cheekbones. The lines around his face and mouth are deeper now, and his hair lacks the luster I’m used to seeing.
“Neither did I,” he says in an undertone. “All these survivors…”
“That’s what they are. Survivors. Innocents. There was a way to save them and we found it.” I sweep my arm out to encompass them.
“You’re right. I turned my back on them.” Our gazes lock. “I turned my back on you.”
He jerks his head toward the door and I steal another deep breath, preparing myself for whatever he wants to say.
This moment has been a long time coming. And for years I practiced what I’d say to Dad if we had this opportunity. Whether I’d stayed moonlocked or not, the core of the conversation never changed. I’d bent over backwards for other people’s expectations for too long.
I’m not moonlocked anymore.
Dad stands aside to let me go first, a move that isn’t lost on me. Squaring my shoulders, I head out into the blinding sunlight and the warm breath of approaching summer on the wind.
Life continues no matter what struggles we’re personally going through.
Doesn’t it?
For the first time in memory, Dad’s at a loss for words. We stand in the sunlight as the moment stretches and strains, my own words swirling in my head but none of them making it out.
“I’m sorry.” He’s the first to speak. “I’m sorry for everything you went through at my hands. I’m sorry for making the mistakes I did, and hurting you.”