Chapter 60

Rowena

I blinked up at Eric, his words taking a moment to fully register. A date? Did he really just suggest taking me out on… a date?

“A date?” I began hesitantly. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea…”

His expression fell slightly at my words. “Why not? I thought it might be nice to do something fun, just the two of us. Get out of the house for a bit, too.”

I bit my lip, trying to think of a tactful way to put this. Eric was the one person I felt I could truly be myself around without fear of judgment, and I was glad that we had made up with each other. But after… well, everything that had happened between us, it felt a bit strange to hear him use such words with me.

“Because we’re… you know.” I gestured vaguely between us. “Brother and sister. So it wouldn’t really be a date.”

Eric’s brow furrowed for a moment, a strange flicker of emotion passing over his face too quickly for me to interpret. He seemed almost… bothered by my words. But the emotion disappeared just as quickly as it came, replaced by that usual easygoing look of his.

“Okay, I won’t call it a ‘date’,” he said, pulling the keys out of the ignition. “But I’m hungry, and I’m tired of Mom and Dad being down our throats all the time. Can’t we just… I don’t know, hang out for a bit?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. He did have a point—our parents had been all over us lately, as if I would suddenly poof out of existence if they turned their backs on me. I didn’t really want to go home, where I knew they would start fussing over me within an instant.

And besides, I was hungry. Maybe I was the one reading too much into this.

“Alright, alright,” I conceded. “I guess that sounds nice.”

Eric’s shoulders relaxed visibly and he flashed me a grin. “Great. Now do you want something to eat or not? I’m starving.”

I couldn’t help but return his smile, the awkward tension from earlier melting away. “Yeah, I could definitely go for some food.”

We headed inside the cozy little diner, the mouthwatering smells of burgers and fries instantly hitting my nose. It was like stepping into a time machine—everything from the checkered tile floors to the red vinyl booths screamed 1950s Americana.

As we settled into a corner booth, the friendly waitress bringing us waters and menus, I felt myself actually relaxing just a bit for the first time in a while. This place was nostalgic. In fact, it hit me as we were sitting there.

“Oh my god,” I managed, looking around wildly. “We’ve been here before. I almost forgot.”

“It was so long ago,” Eric laughed. “Back before Mom and Dad got all pretentious about fine dining and stuff.”

I snorted at the memory; our parents had brought us here a lot back in the day, before our grandfather died and passed the title of Alpha on to our dad. Things had been simpler then. We didn’t have so much of an ‘appearance’ to uphold.

“Yeah, I remember,” I said with a laugh of my own. “You used to beg them to let us get the biggest milkshake they had with those goofy paper hats.”

“And you always stole mine,” Eric added. “You’d chug the whole milkshake in the span of two seconds and then get sick on the way home.”

I smirked. “I never stole them, not really. You always gave it to me, secretly; you just didn’t want to admit it.”

Eric grinned. “That’s true.”

As the night wore on, we continued reminiscing and swapping stories from our childhood—like the time a nine-year-old Eric had begged our parents to let him drive us to this very diner, only to get distracted and sideswipe a mailbox. Or when I was six and had tried to sneak out to the diner alone, packing a backpack full of snacks for sustenance only for Eric to catch me down the road.

For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt light and carefree as we giggled over shared fries and an obnoxiously large chocolate banana milkshake. My cheeks actually hurt from how much I was smiling.

But as our laughter finally tapered off into comfortable silence, I found myself studying Eric’s face. He looked… content, happy in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time. Not since before he had left for warrior training three years ago.

The thought caused a pang in my chest. I had missed him so much in that time—missed having my partner in crime, my closest confidant by my side. Things had been… difficult while he was gone.

“I’m really glad you’re back,” I said impulsively. “I missed you.”

Eric met my gaze, a look of surprise flickering in his own. He paused for a moment, then cleared his throat and ran his hand through his blond hair. “I missed you too, Rowena. More than you could imagine.”

He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. “Things weren’t… good for you while I was away, were they?”

I shook my head, a sad little laugh escaping my lips. “Not really. Being at home was fine, but out there?” I gestured vaguely at the diner’s doors. “It was pretty much hell.”

Eric’s features darkened and I could sense the undercurrent of protectiveness in his voice. “What happened? You never went into detail.”

Squirming awkwardly, I briefly considered brushing it off or downplaying the extent of what I had gone through in high school. But this was Eric—if I couldn’t be honest with my own brother, who could I be honest with?

“The bullying got bad,” I admitted in a small voice as I crumpled up the straw wrapper in my hands. “I was just the wolfless dork. Not deserving of respect. They never laid hands on me, but they did other things.”

“Like what?” Eric asked.

I shrugged, feeling a pain lance through my chest at the memories. “Graffiti my locker, steal my things, destroy my bookbag,” I began. “Cut my hair in class, fake ask me out to dances, call me names… That sort of thing.”

Eric’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Why didn’t you tell Mom and Dad? You know they would have put a stop to it.”

I fidgeted with the little ball of paper in my hands. “I don’t know, I just… I felt so weak, you know? And I thought that if I went crying to mommy and daddy, it would only make it worse.” I paused, shaking my head as I stared down at the table. “Eventually, I figured if I could just prove my worth through studying hard and getting top marks, it would all blow over eventually.”

Glancing down at my ankle, I let out a mirthless laugh. “Obviously that plan backfired spectacularly. Now I’m going to be even more of a laughing stock with these stupid crutches.”

“Hey.” Eric’s warm hand covered mine, stilling my nervous movements as he fixed me with an intense look. “Anyone who would mock someone just for being injured is the weakest person of all. You know that, right?”

I held his gaze for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest, then gave a small nod. Part of me did know that, deep down. But years of being treated like a second-class citizen had chipped away at my self-worth.

“Listen, I’ve picked up more scars and injuries over the years than I can count,” Eric continued. “But each one of them, each hardship I’ve faced, has only made me stronger once it healed.”

He gestured at a faint white line peeking out from the collar of his shirt. “Like this one—you remember how I got this? When I got into that tussle with that kid in middle school who was talking shit about Mom.”

I sighed at the memory, remembering it well. The other kid had scratched Eric up pretty good, but Eric had won in the end. I didn’t have that kind of brave heart, though. Not like Eric. But I wouldn’t say that in front of him.

But it was then, as I stared at the little white line on his neck, that I remembered: the vision. The pure white snow, dotted with crimson red. The little boy’s face.

And the scar that I knew Eric picked up when we were kids.

“Actually, speaking of scars… can I see the one on your shoulder?” I asked.