CHAPTER 40: THE QUIET HEALER

A few days later, Doc finally released me. Zane still hadn’t come to see me since I’d kicked them all out.

Doc was very clear about one thing—no sex until he gave the all-clear in a few weeks, once my muscles had fully healed. He didn’t say the word sex, of course, but the meaning was implied. He also insisted I rest, which was fine by me. Carrying twins wasn’t exactly easy.

Not that he needed to stress it—my mates wouldn’t have let me lift a finger until these pups were born anyway. Dean proved that by carrying me all the way to the house.

As we passed the Omegas, they bowed respectfully before we stepped inside, smiles on their faces.

“No, I want to sit on the back porch,” I told Dean, but they weren’t listening.

The guys just talked over me, arguing about where I should sleep. The shared room risked someone accidentally hurting me, but sleeping alone meant no one would be nearby if I needed help. Neither option satisfied them, so they started debating a rotation schedule.

“Dean,” I tried again, louder. Still nothing. Not even a glance to acknowledge I’d spoken.

Now I was pissed.

I shoved myself out of Dean’s arms, catching him off guard. My feet hit the ground harder than I expected, sending a sharp pain through me. I winced.

A chorus of voices erupted. “Max, are you okay?”

“Oh, now you notice I’m here?” I crossed my arms, glaring.

Dean sighed. “Sorry, my Luna. We just wanted you to rest. That’s what’s most important.”

“No, what’s most important is listening when I ask for something—twice. I want to sit on the porch and enjoy the weather, but you were all too busy arguing over where to stash me like a piece of furniture. Newsflash: my wants come before your wants for me.”

They had the decency to look ashamed.

Luke, ever the peacemaker, dipped his head. “We’re sorry, my Luna. We thought we knew what you needed.”

I tried to push past them, but Dean and Luke grabbed for my arms. I jerked away, stomping off—lightly, since anything harder would hurt. They moved to follow, but before I could snap at them, Zane appeared around the corner.

He looked exhausted—red-rimmed eyes, dark circles.

“Brothers,” he said flatly, “give her a minute.” He must’ve added more through the mind-link because they actually stayed put.

Without another word, I headed for the porch. Out of all of them, I hadn’t expected Zane to be the one to back me up.

“They’re just being protective. You know how alphas are,” Cece murmured.

That isn’t an excuse. Rest was important, but fresh air and sunlight are equally important. And ignoring me? Unacceptable.

“Well, you are carrying their pups,” she pointed out.

Fair, but had they forgotten I’d done this twice already? If anyone was the expert here, it was me.

“Cut them some slack,” Cece said. “It’s only going to get worse. Pick your battles—but yeah, they should’ve listened. Don’t worry, I already scolded their wolves.” She winked.

Every step sent a fresh stab of pain through me. If they’d just listened, I’d already be relaxing instead of hurting.

I know you can take away some of my pain, but… I asked Cece, can I send it to them instead?

“Ooh, love it. Yes—focus on where it hurts and push it through the bond, like how you shared that… moment with Jason and Zane,” Cece sounded excited.

I pictured the pain in my legs and side, breaking it into pieces and sending it down the bond—to all of them except Zane. He was the only one who hadn’t ignored me. Besides, I have a feeling that Zane is going through enough right now. No matter how hurt I am that he is ignoring me.

Less than five seconds later, three sets of footsteps thundered toward me.

I got to the back door first, and Maria opened it for me.

“Thank you, Maria. How are you doing?” I asked sincerely as my three companions paused at the foot of the stairs, reassured now that I was unharmed.

“I’m doing well, thank you for asking, Luna,” she replied, dipping her head slightly.

It seemed her conversation with the Alphas had made a difference. Her reactions toward me had softened—though occasionally, she still flinched when I entered a room. Whenever it happened, I simply smiled and offered a kind word, hoping it might ease the pain of the years of mistreatment she’d endured.

“Um, Luna…” Maria hesitated, her voice timid. I turned to her with a patient expression. “Thank you… for understanding and for helping me.”

I knew exactly what she meant. Closing the distance between us, I took her hand gently.

“Maria, I’m so sorry for everything you went through. But I promise, I’ll always treat you like family. We’re a pack—we look out for each other. And I’m really proud of you for speaking to the Alphas. That couldn’t have been easy, but it was incredibly brave. I swear, I won’t fail you again.”

A tear slipped down her cheek before she surprised me by pulling me into a hug. I returned it warmly, but she quickly stepped back, murmuring a shaky apology.

I laughed softly. “It’s okay—I love hugs. Feel free to send one my way anytime.” I winked, and she giggled in response.

“Would you like help sitting down, Luna?” Maria asked, smiling now.

“Yes, please,” I said, resting my hand on her arm as she guided me to the chairs outside. Once seated, I thanked her again.

My gaze drifted to the pups playing in the yard, their laughter ringing through the air. They were deep in a game of tag—freeze tag, to be exact, where the tagged players had to stand frozen until another player came and unfroze them. Collin, quick on his feet, nearly caught one of the older pups. He’d make an excellent spy someday, I mused, making a mental note to train him when he was older, if he wanted.

The game was lively, with two taggers trying to catch the swarming children. It reminded me of my own kids—how they’d play until exhaustion took over, leaving them sound asleep.

As more pups joined the fun, I noticed one of the girls, Tammie, trip and fall. She cried as she rolled onto her back, blinking up at the sky. She made a mistake of looking at her knee and spotted the blood on her scraped knee. Her cries grew louder.

Rising carefully, I moved toward her and sat on a nearby bench, arms outstretched. She wobbled over, sniffling, and I lifted her onto my lap, holding her until her sobs quieted.

“Where does it hurt the most?” I asked gently.

She pointed to her knee with a whimper.

Maria, could you bring the first aid kit, please? I linked. Moments later, Maria arrived, but I stopped her before she could kneel. “I’ve got this—thank you,” I told her with a smile. She set the kit beside me and returned to the house.

Carefully, I shifted Tammie onto the bench and knelt before her. The scrape was dirty—it needed cleaning.

“Tammie, this is peroxide. It’ll help wash out the dirt, but it might sting a little. When it stops bubbling, we’ll know it’s clean,” I explained.

As the liquid touched her wound, she cried out, and a few friends rushed over to comfort her. Once the cut was clean, I let her pick her bandage—a swirl of pink and purple.

Before applying it, I made a show of examining her leg, tilting it this way and that. Then with a magnifying glass pressed to my eye I do it again. The girls giggled, and soon, more pups gathered, watching with amusement.

Finally, I sighed dramatically. “Well, I hate to say it… but I’ll have to cut it off.”

Tammie burst into laughter, trying to scramble away, but I caught her in a hug. “Don’t worry—it’ll just tickle a little bit!”

She squirmed free, and I chased her playfully, ignoring the twinge in my side as I scooped her up.

“Since you can run just fine, I guess you can keep it,” I teased, grinning as she settled back on the bench. After bandaging her knee, she hugged me before darting off to rejoin her friends at the swings. Swinging seems safer than tag at the moment, and I wholeheartedly agree.

“You’re going to be an amazing mother again,” Jason says softly behind me, proving just how lost in thought I’ve been. He adds, “Provided you actually rest.”

I don’t turn around—I just keep my eyes on the pups chasing each other. Jackie holds Tammie’s swing, pushing her back and forth before running underneath as Tammie soars high.

“I’ve always loved kids,” I say, lost in memory. “In high school, I babysat for the neighborhood. During summers, my parents let me host mini-camps—kids would come after breakfast and stay until dinner. I’d plan activities every day. We’d end the week with a bonfire, roasting marshmallows and sharing favorite moments.”

“Why did you stop?” Dean asks. I turn and find most of my mates watching me quietly—except Zane. My smile fades.

“I started college,” I reply, walking towards the bench.

“What did you study?” Luke asks, guiding me onto Jason’s lap. I lean into the crook of Jason’s neck as Dean lifts my feet onto his lap.

“Music Education. I taught for a few years after we married, but once I got pregnant, I quit. After Asher was born, I went back to school online for Business Management and Accounting—my husband needed help with his books. Surprisingly, I loved it, even though I used to hate math.” I laugh at the irony.

“You sing, Luna?” Collin’s voice is stiff, his posture frozen.

“I do. My daughter and I used to bake and sing together. During storms, singing was the only thing that calmed her.” My throat tightens at the memory.

“And your son?” Dean asks gently. Collin shifts slightly to listen.

“He had a beautiful voice but was shy. He would mostly sit and listen, but occasionally when he was relaxed, we would hear him singing under his breath. Only his sister ever got to hear him fully. When I was pregnant, he’d sing to her, and she’d stop kicking. On Mother’s Day, Kelly wrote me a song and begged him to sing it.” A tear slips free.

“They sound like amazing kids,” Dean says softly.

“They were,” I whisper as more tears fall.

“Luna, do you remember the song?” Collin asks.

I swallow hard and begin singing in a gentle, jazzy lullaby—a sweet, childish version of This Little Light of Mine that Kelly made up at four years old.

This mommy of mine

I’m going love her forever

Oh, this mommy of mine

Gives me love and chocolate

This mommy of mine

I’m going to hug her

This mommy of mine, all the time, I love her.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Connie pipes up, her freckled nose scrunched.

I chuckle. “No, I guess it doesn’t, but it did to her my daughter. She was only 4 and ‘This Little Light of Mine’ was her favorite song. She just changed the words to make them fit,”

“Whoa, you sound awesome,” says a boy I don’t recognize—Brock, he introduces himself.

Jackie suddenly charges into the group to tag them, scattering the pups in every direction.

“They’re right—you have an incredible voice,” Dean says, smiling. “I’d love to hear more.”

Jason tilts my face toward his and kisses me. A chorus of ooohs erupts from the pups, only for Luke to chase them off, threatening to “freeze” them all.

“What about your husband?” Dean asks, leaning in for his own kiss.

I tease Cece, laughing. “They’re like jealous pets—one gets a kiss, they all want one.”

“Oh, god no—he couldn’t sing to save his life. But give him any instrument, and he’d master it in an hour.”

We stay on the bench, watching the pups play until a yawn escapes me.

“Alright, I’m ready to go lie down and rest,” I said, moving to stand.

Luke was quicker, scooping me into his arms before I could take a step.

“You do realize I have two perfectly functional feet, right?” I quipped dryly.

“Huh, what a coincidence—so do I,” Luke shot back with exaggerated surprise, laughing at his own joke.

I arched a brow at him, but he pretended not to notice. Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but smile.

At the top of the stairs, Luke slowed and asked, “Mi alma, which room would you prefer?”

I appreciated him checking instead of assuming. Progress, it seemes they can be taught. Luke caught the thought and chuckled.

“Where’s Zane?” I asked. It wasn’t the first time I’d wondered.

“Oh, umm, he’s in his room,” Luke said with a shrug. “He gets like this around this time of year. He shuts everyone out and won’t talk. Give him a few days; he’ll be back to the normal Zane.”

I knew exactly what was happening. Something painful had happened to him this time of year, and he was reliving it, just as I did on my family’s death anniversary. A warrior like him wouldn’t show weakness—he’d bury it deep, believing he had to face it alone.

“I’d like my room, please,” I said. As much as I wanted to sleep beside my mates, I was afraid of being jostled in my current state.

Luke carried me in, tucked me in gently, and they each kissed me before leaving. If not for their early meeting, I knew they’d have stayed longer.

Alone, I tossed and turned, struggling to settle. Without them, sleep felt impossible. Giving up, I pulled on my robe and ventured into the hallway. Checking that it was empty, I approached Zane’s purposefully charred door and knocked. No answer. I knocked again, louder, and heard movement inside. Four more sharp raps, and finally, the door was yanked open.

Zane looked wrecked—unshaven, exhausted, his eyes bloodshot and shadowed. Clearly, sleep had been evading him for days.

“Max, please go,” he rasped, his voice rough. He never called me Max.

Ignoring him, I brushed past and headed straight for his bed.

“Max, I asked you to leave,” he growled through clenched teeth. But I ignored him again, climbing under the covers.

The scent of him—woody and familiar—eased my tension. I hadn’t realized how wound up I was until that moment.

“Max, I won’t ask again. Get the fuck out,” he snapped, fury simmering in his tone.

Words wouldn’t reach him now. So I did what had once helped me in my darkest moments—when rage and grief threatened to consume me. I met his gaze, letting him see the pain I carried—the same pain he was drowning in, refusing to face.

Softly, I whispered, “Our monsters match.”

Then I turned on my uninjured side and closed my eyes. The silence stretched, heavy and tense. Finally, after several long minutes the bed dipped. Zane lay beside me, rigid at first. I moved, resting my head against his shoulder.

Minutes later, his breathing steadied. He was asleep. Soon after, I followed.