I smile when I feel Ryker’s arms wrap around me and pull me back against his chest. I think about all the things we have had to overcome to get to this point. We fought for our love, and even when people and things worked against us, we found our way back to each other. And now that we know the White Wolf Prophecy has come true, our love has granted others the chance of finding love. I can only hope people like Addison and Noah will be able to be as happy as I am with my mate and they will be able to know how amazing it is to find the person meant for them.
Ryker kisses my temple and whispers, “I love you.”
“And I love you.”
I will never get tired of hearing those three simple words come out of his mouth. Even though he shows me on a daily basis how much he loves me, there is still something special in hearing him say it. I make a vow to myself that I will tell him how much I love him and how much I cherish our time together as often as possible because you never know what life is going to throw at you.
If Addison’s diagnosis has taught me anything, it’s that you never have as much time as you think or want. So I will hold him close. I will tell him and show him how much I love him every day, and I will enjoy every second of my crazy, wonderful life with him.
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SOUL BOUND
WINSLOW
“You’ve been very quiet during our group discussion today, Winslow. Wouldn’t you like to share?” Dr. Beverly asks from across the circle of chairs, her handy-dandy blue pen at the ready to write down everything I say.
Which I’m sure she’ll immediately relay to my parents.
Dr. Beverly showed up a few days ago with a new haircut. She keeps saying she thinks it’s edgy and chic, but if you ask me, her box-dyed blonde hair looks like it lost a fight with a lawnmower. And lying has never been my strong suit, so when she asked for my opinion, I told her exactly that.
It did not go over well.
“Nope, I’m good,” I tell her with a smile I hope comes across as friendly and not homicidal.
“The programs here work because we share our problems and thoughts with the group.” She looks around at the other patients and gives them a reassuring nod.
It’s not entirely shocking when half of them refuse to meet her eyes, as a mass majority of the patients in this facility struggle with eye contact. I know for a fact that Nora—or Nutty Nora, as I endearingly named her—believes that eye contact is how the demons get in. She had to be sedated when she saw that my eyes are two different colors.
“I would like for you to share, Winslow.” Dr. Beverly’s voice is still calm, but I can see how her smile tightens, and her botox-filled forehead pulls slightly that she’s growing irritated with my lack of participation during her group sessions.
Okay, lady...you asked for it.
I stand and place my hands on my hips with a sigh. “Hi, my name is Winslow, and I see dead people. No, wait! I’m Sorry. My bad. I forgot what support group I was at for a second, I’m just in so many here at Cresthill Psychiatric that I have trouble keeping them straight. Let me start again. Hi. My name is Winslow, and I’m a drug addict,” I cheerfully announce. This isn’t like a narcotics anonymous meeting where everyone greets you back. I don’t even technically have to introduce myself, but I get a kick out of it.
I’ve been here for going on two months now, so at this point, it’s the little things like this that get me through my days.
“Like everyone else in this group, I self-medicated with drugs. Not that what I have can be fixed with medication, but that’s another problem altogether that we don’t have to get into right now.” I watch as everyone looks to the doctor. I know I only have about twenty seconds before she calls the orderly, and I’m removed from the group, so I start talking fast, so I can get it all out. “Also, like many of you, I wasn’t sent here by choice. But unlike many of you, and I say this with love because I don’t think there’s anything wrong with getting help, I don’t need to be here. Yes, I see dead people, but they’re real, unlike the aliens with the laser eyes that Daniel sees.” I smile over at the middle-aged bald man who’s so overmedicated he’s staring at his shoes. “Poor guy,” I say with a shake of my head.
“Anywho, thanks for letting me share. You’re right Bev, I should do this more often, I feel so much better.”
Right on cue, the door buzzes open and Martin, the orderly, comes marching toward me. Martin is actually a cool guy and the only orderly who doesn’t treat the patients here like complete shit. His dark gaze narrows when he looks at me, and I know I’ll be getting a lecture on my way back to my room about how he’s disappointed in me for not taking
