She had just wanted so badly to be wrong.
“I’m sorry, baby.” In the hallway outside their room, Cade took her hand and pulled her close for a slow, lingering kiss.
“No.” She sighed and leaned into him, resting her brow against his shoulder and closing her eyes. “It was stupid.”
“Hey.” He tapped the underside of her chin with his index finger, coaxing her head up. “None of that. Having hope isn’t stupid.” He kissed her temple and hugged her close. “In a lot of cases, hope is all we have. I’m just sorry it wasn’t enough this time.”
“I think I always knew, even before we went to the ranch.”
She just hadn’t wanted to believe it. Instead, she’d put herself and her mate in danger, almost gotten him killed, and all because she hadn’t been able to accept the truth. It had been reckless, selfish, and yes, stupid.
There was a hint of a smile playing over his lips as he swept her hair back over her shoulder. “Not knowing is the hardest part.”
Yet, it was as common as breathing now. Most of the people in Olympus probably had at least one friend or family member who had disappeared in the past couple of years. Worse, they might never know what had happened to them. It wasn’t something anyone really talked about, but it had to be in the back of their minds.
In movies, whether the world ended because of zombies, plague, war, or alien invasion, the hero’s journey always focused on survival. Part of that survival sometimes involved a desperate search for a loved one, usually a spouse, child, or both. Everyone else the hero had ever known—parents, siblings, cousins, friends, and so on—were immediately and outrightly presumed dead.
Had that happened after the Purge? With so many dead, had people stopped searching and just assumed their loved ones were gone forever? It sounded so bleak, but she also kind of understood it.
“We don’t have to do this,” Cade said, interrupting her thoughts. “If you’re not feeling up to it, you can stay in the room, and I’ll go scavenge us something to eat.”
“No, I want to go.”
Fresh fish and hand-cut fries from the diner at the edge of camp sounded amazing. She’d even heard rumors about slices of chocolate cake as big as her head, and comfort food seemed like the perfect antidote to a disappointing day.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Mackenna smiled as she took his hands and began pulling him down the hallway, her boots scuffing over the teal, low-pile carpet. The flooring was obviously cheap, and it had probably been outdated when it had been installed, but it was clean, and it appeared to have held up fairly well over the years.
The wood paneling on the lower half of the wall had been scuffed and chipped from the numerous guests who had passed through the corridor. In contrast, the warm, cream-colored paint on the other half appeared fresh. The black light fixtures attached to the walls also looked newer, while the paintings and other art had probably been purchased decades ago.
The entire lodge seemed to be a mixture of old and new, tradition and progress. She liked it. In an odd way, she felt a connection with the place. The woman who had escaped the Hunters wasn’t the same person who had been kidnapped from the side of the highway. Nor was she a wholly new person. At her core, her personality, her likes and dislikes, hadn’t changed. Now, she was just…more.
From the moment she’d woken up in the hospital, she had been struggling in vain to reclaim a life that no longer existed. Foolishly, she had somehow convinced herself that she could pick up where she’d left off as if the past two years had never happened. She couldn’t forget her past, and she didn’t know that she’d want to, even if it were possible. After all, those experiences, both good and bad, had made her who she was now.
She could remember the past, however, without letting it weigh her down. She could hope without letting it hold her back. So much had been taken from her, but she had also found more than she probably deserved. She had a roof over her head, food in her belly, and a new family who always had her back. Safety and comfort were no longer guaranteed, but they were privileges she now enjoyed.
She had Cade.
Even before the Purge, many Gemini went an entire lifetime and never found their other half. Having a mate who adored her, who always put her first, who knew all her flaws and loved her because—not in spite—of them was a true and precious gift. She’d lost a lot that night she’d blown her tire, but since then, she’d been blessed with so much more.
“What is going on in that head of yours?” Cade asked as they exited the lodge and stepped out into the brisk night air. “I swear about twenty different emotions have crossed your face in the last five minutes.”
Mackenna shrugged. “Just working out some stuff.”
“And how is that going?”
“Pretty good.”
Nothing was set in stone. It didn’t have to be either-or. She could mourn the loss of her old life and still be grateful for her new one. Pausing on the front lawn, she swung Cade around and lifted her arms to encircle his neck as she arched into him for a kiss.
“Not that I’m complaining,” he said with a smirk, “but what was that for?”
“Just my way of saying thank you.”
“And what are you thanking me for?”
Where did she even start? For taking a chance on a broken and damaged
