Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 237

Ch. 9

Cassandra

“I need a few days,” I tell Geraldine as I head for the door.

Geraldine looks up from her desk with the expression she has for unexpected complications. Me leaving early apparently qualifies. “For?”

“Family emergency.” She doesn’t need to know more than that. “I’ll make up the work hours when I return.”

She sneers like my answer isn’t good enough. “We’ve had this conversation before,” she reminds me. “About the limits of our arrangement.”

“I know.” I keep my expression placid. Arguing with her right now will only delay me more.

“I want to be clear.” She sets her pen down. “The arrangement works because you’re reliable. Reliable means present.”

“I understand,” I nod sharply. “I’ll be back by Friday.”

She picks her pen back up. “Friday,” she mutters, returning to her task. “Not Saturday.”

“Friday,” I confirm.

I borrow a car from a pack member who owes me a favor. He hands me the keys without asking questions, which is the best kind of favor.

The drive to Jarrett’s family’s pack takes four hours. Long enough to think about things I’d rather not think about. But even I’m not stupid enough to believe I can bury my head in the sand and hope for the best. I need a plan.

I think about Liam’s life. The reality of it, not the sugar-coated version I’ve been telling myself. The one where my life circumstances were difficult but I made the best choices available to me. Lying to myself now won’t help

my son.

Liam was born into instability. Not poverty, not danger. Jarrett had resources and he wanted me. If I had stayed, it would have been fine. But I was running from a situation I’d created, and Jarrett was a wolf who cared about me more than I’d earned, and the relationship was built on a foundation of me using what was convenient and him wanting more than I could give. That’s not a stable environment for a child even when everyone is trying.

And then I made it worse.

The decisions that left me at Ashford left Liam at Vera’s, and I’ve been telling myself he was better off there- better resources, more stable, a father and grandmother who loves him-and that’s true as far as it goes. What I haven’t been saying out loud is that it’s also true that he’s four years old and his mother chose a situation that required her to be somewhere else.

I didn’t choose it the way it sounds when I put it like that. The sequence of choices was more complicated. And my reason, while not good enough, made sense to me at the time.

But the result is the same result regardless. I gave him up, mostly because I was forced to after Jaxon tracked Jarrett down and helped him get custody. But also because in my heart of hearts, I knew he was better off there. The circumstances of my life that make that true haven’t changed, So what am I going to do now?

I drive for four hours and don’t let myself look away from any of it. Because Liam deserves better than the mother I was before.

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Vera’s temporary accommodation is a small house on the edge of a neighboring pack’s territory. Butterflies flutter

my stomach when it comes into view. I pull into the drive, take a few deep breaths to steady my nerves, and tell myself that whatever comes next, I’ve already been through worse.

She answers the door with the eyes of someone who hasn’t stopped crying for too many hours and has run out of tears without running out of grief.

“He’s in the sitting room,” she turns without fanfare, trusting I’ll follow her.

When she stops beside Liam, handing me his packed bag, I catch her eye. “Thank you,” I say. “For taking care of him.”

She nods. “He’s a good boy. He never gave us any trouble.” She says it like this is a remarkable thing. I understand that, for her, maybe it is. But Liam has always been an easy child.

Liam is on the floor with a collection of small figures arranged in a configuration that suggests an impending battle is about to erupt and I’m tempted to just hang back and watch him play for a moment. Let him have a few more minutes of easy before he learns how hard life is about to become.

But he hears me come in and looks up, catching me watching him. A huge smile spreads across his face and he waves at me. But he doesn’t speak.

He’s grown taller, I can tell even while he’s sitting. But he’s also quieter. There’s something in the way he’s looking at me that I recognize because I know what it comes from, and I also know I deserve it. He’s assessing. Deciding. The careful watchfulness of a child who has learned that situations change and people leave and you should figure out what you’re dealing with before you commit to a response;

He shouldn’t know how to do that. He’s only four.I hate that I did that to him.

Icrouch down to his level. “Hi, baby,” I say softly, running my fingers through his soft hair.

He looks at me for a moment-the assessment still ongoing, careful and serious. “Hi, Mama.” He finally replies.

He lets me pick him up but he doesn’t grab for me the way he used to-the full-body reach of a small child who fully trusts his mom to take care of him and goes to her eagerly whenever she’s near. Instead he just-allows the contact. Lets me hold him, resting his head against my shoulder.

I just stand there, soaking him in for a moment. He’s heavier than six months ago. He smells like the soap Vera uses and something underneath it that is just him—the particular scent of my child that I would know anywhere.

I hold on.

And I understand, standing in this sitting room in a borrowed house on the edge of someone else’s territory, that I have significant work to do.

Cara Anderson

Author

Thank you for reading!

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