Pursuing My Rejected Luna by Cara Anderson novel Chapter 264

Ch. 34

Cassandra

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Liam’s always been a quiet boy. He doesn’t volunteer information about difficult things. He processes things himself first, then he tells me when he’s ready. If he’s ever ready.

I realize that’s probably my fault, too busy with my own problems to recognize his. I’ve been learning a lot of things about my son I should have known earlier. But I’m more determined than ever to make up for that now.

So when he climbs into bed beside me one night and says, with careful casualness, “Some of the big kids in the pack have been saying some things, Mama,” I understand it’s probably been happening for a while and he’s just decided it’s important enough to talk to me about it.

I put down my book and give him my full attention. “Tell me, baby.”

“Some of the big kids told me some things about you. At lunch. And after.” he looks at his hands, avoiding my eyes. “I have some questions about it.”

“What did they say?” I ask calmly, trying to make him feel safe. Even though my heartbeat feels like it’s trying to outrun a racecar.

He looks at the ceiling this time, anywhere but at me, so I know it’s bad. That thought has bile rising in my throat. “That you got thrown out.”

“Okay,” I don’t react despite the gnawing sense of dread in my chest. He doesn’t need to bear the burden of my feelings too. “What else?”

“That you’re not a real pack member.” He finally looks at me. “I know that part’s true. You’re not. Me either, right? Not yet.”

“No,” I agree. “We’re not.”

“And they said ” He stops, looks away again. “Why does the Alpha let you stay if your mom is bad. They said we’ll never belong to this pack because you’re bad.”

I choke down the gasp rising in my throat. It takes me a minute to compose myself but I manage to ask calmly, “What did you say to that?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “I didn’t know what to say.”

I look at him. At his face in the dim light, serious and waiting for the real answer.

“Yes,” I nod and cup his cheek, blinking back tears. “That was exactly right.”

Even though I’m glad he seems happy enough with my response and isn’t losing sleep over it, I am. I lie awake for a long time wondering what I should do, if anything at all.

I really don’t want to go to Noah. Going to Noah means standing in front of him and admitting the consequences of what I did are landing on my four–year–old. It means being vulnerable to him. It means asking him to do something for me, which I don’t have the right to ask.

But I will do anything for my son, no matter what it costs me.

And I can’t fix this myself. Like those kids so helpfully pointed out, I have no standing in this pack. I can’t go to their parents and be taken seriously. The only person with the standing to address it is the person I don’t want to ask.

I lie awake until I’ve run through every version of another solution and found none of them.

I’ll go in the morning.

It’s the least Liam deserves.