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My father smiled, the kind of proud smile that always made me feel like I could take on anything. “That’s my girl, ” he said warmly. “Now, it seems to me you’ve had a very long day. Why don’t you go get some rest? You’ve got therapy in the morning, right?”
“That’s right,” I confirmed. “My occupational therapy appointment. I’m still not used to going every week. I almost forgot.”
“Well, don’t forget,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re making progress, and that’s what matters.”
I smiled, feeling a small flicker of pride at his words. “Thanks, Dad.”
The next day at my therapy appointment, my good mood persisted. Things went well, even though my usual therapist was out and a substitute was helping me.
She was a young, pretty woman with light brown hair and a kind smile. She looked vaguely familiar, but her name didn’t ring any bells, and I couldn’t place where I knew her from. She was talkative as we worked through the exercises, many of which involved stretching and breathing practices.
To my mild amusement, she had a lot of questions about Alexander, which wasn’t surprising. He was quite popular with the ladies, after all. It was only natural for people to be curious about him.
“I’d feel insecure being with someone as attractive and popular as that,” she said as we stood up from the exercise mats where we’d been stretching.
“I did feel a little insecure at first,” I admitted. “But Alexander isn’t what you’d imagine. He’s not full of himself or cocky because of his popularity.”
“No?” she said, sounding surprised. “It doesn’t affect him at all?”
“It affects him,” I replied, “just not in the way you’d expect. It doesn’t make him overconfident. If anything, it makes him hyper–aware of his role and the fact that he has to be careful to meet people’s expectations, especially when it comes to doing what’s best for his pack.”
“He sounds pretty incredible,” she said with an odd smile.
“He is,” I agreed.
She stared at me for a moment, then walked over to the nearby countertop and picked up her laptop. While she was focused on the screen, I studied her face, trying to place where I had seen her before. Then it clicked—she had been an intern at my doctor’s office years ago when she was still in school.
But there was something else. Her name was different.
“Are you married?” I asked suddenly, the question escaping before I could think it through.
She looked startled, glancing up at me. “No. Why do you ask?”
Thesitated, unsure how to respond. I was certain she was the same person I remembered, but the name difference
threw me off. Maybe I was wrong, or maybe she just had one of those faces that was easy to mistake.
“Just curious, since we’re talking about relationships,” I said lightly, not wanting to offend her.
“Maybe one day,” she replied with a small smile, then turned her attention back to the screen. “You’re making good progress. I think we should continue the weekly meetings for now, but soon we’ll be able to move to twice a
month.”
“I’m glad you feel I’m making progress,” I said. “But I don’t feel like I am. Shouldn’t I be feeling my wolf by
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now? Shouldn’t there be some signs that this is working?”
“The signs are subtle,” she said. “Sometimes you don’t even notice them.”
“Is there anything else I can do to speed up the process?”
“You said you’re exercising regularly, right?”
I nodded.
“Then you’re doing everything you can. There’s no reason to rush it. You’ll only make it harder on yourself if you’re impatient.”
Her reassurance eased some of my tension. “Thank you,” I said with a small smile.
“Of course. It looks like your regular therapist will be out again next week, so I’ll see you then. Have a great week, Miss Rowan.”
“And you,” I replied. I gathered my things and headed out.
As I stepped into the sunlight, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting something mundane.
But as my eyes scanned the screen, my breath hitched. My blood ran cold.
The text was from a contact I never thought I’d hear from again.
Amanda
