Chapter 40
Ellie's POV
Caroline took a shaky breath, then another. The trembling didn't stop completely, but she seemed to relax slightly, her shoulders dropping from their tense position. Her eyes filled with tears.
"Thank you, sweetheart," she whispered. "You always knew how to calm me down."
Lucas was watching us with an intensity that made my skin prickle. His eyes had taken on a faint golden gleam in the candlelight. His jaw clenched as he watched his mother's trembling hand in mine, and I could see the guilt and helplessness etched across his face.
He can't fix this, I realized. And it's killing him to watch.
But he said nothing, just turned his attention back to his untouched plate.
"So," Richard cleared his throat, clearly trying to lighten the mood. "Tell us about school. Caroline's been dying to hear everything."
I obliged, sharing carefully edited stories about my classes, my roommates, the campus activities. I talked about Lily's hacking skills, Megan's fashion obsession. I didn't mention Jackson, or the street dance performance, or the silver candlestick incident.
And I definitely didn't mention Samantha.
Caroline hung on every word, her face animated despite her obvious exhaustion. "And the dance team? Are you still dancing?"
"Every chance I get." I smiled at her. "Actually, I just performed at the university's anniversary celebration."
Lucas's fork clattered against his plate.
Everyone looked at him. He picked it up quickly, face flushing. "Sorry. Slipped."
But I'd seen the flash of something in his eyes—surprise? Regret? I couldn't tell.
"I wish I could have seen it," Caroline said wistfully. "You were always so graceful when you danced."
"Maybe next time," I said gently, though we both knew there might not be a next time. Not for her.
The meal continued with forced cheerfulness, but the weight of unspoken things hung over us like a storm cloud. Caroline grew visibly more tired as we ate, her sentences trailing off mid-thought, her hand shaking so badly she could barely hold her fork.
"I think I need to lie down for a bit," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Richard was on his feet immediately. "Of course, darling. Let me help you."
"No." She waved him off. "You stay with Ellie. I'll just rest on the couch for a few minutes."
"Mom, let me—" Lucas started, but she cut him off with a gentle smile.
"I'm fine, both of you. Stop hovering."
She stood slowly, gripping the table for support. I watched her make her way to the living room, each step careful and deliberate. The strong woman who'd taught me to control my first transformation, who'd held me through countless childhood nightmares, now moved like someone decades older.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the table.
"I'll start clearing," I said, standing and gathering plates.
"Leave it." Richard's voice was rough. "Lucas, help me in the kitchen. Ellie, stay here."
They disappeared into the kitchen, and I heard the low murmur of intense conversation. I couldn't make out the words, but the emotional weight was unmistakable.
Through the archway, I could see Caroline on the couch, her eyes closed, one hand pressed to her chest. Her breathing was shallow and rapid.
She's dying, the thought hit me with brutal clarity. Really dying. Not just sick—dying.
The kitchen door swung open, and Lucas emerged alone. His eyes were red-rimmed, his jaw clenched tight. He looked at me, and for a moment, I saw the boy I'd grown up with—scared, hurting, desperately trying to hold it together.
Then he blinked, and the mask slid back into place.
We stood there in awkward silence, five feet of hardwood floor between us feeling like an unbridgeable chasm.
"Thank you," he finally said, voice low. "For coming. It means a lot to her."
"I didn't come for you."
The words were cruel, and I saw him flinch. But I couldn't take them back. Wouldn't take them back.
"I know." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I know you didn't."
More silence.
Outside, I could hear the distant howl of a wolf—probably from the pack that ran through the forest preserve beyond the property line. Lucas's head turned automatically toward the sound, and I saw his eyes flash gold again.
"I should go," I said, checking my phone. It was already eight o'clock. "It's getting late."
"I'll drive you back to campus tomorrow morning," Lucas said quietly. "Early, so you don't miss your first class."
I shook my head. "That won't be necessary."
Our eyes met, and I let the mind-link open just enough for him to hear my thoughts, sharp and clear: You take care of your girlfriend. My dad will drive me back to school.
Lucas's mouth opened, then closed. Something flickered across his face—hurt, maybe, or frustration. He took a half-step forward, but I'd already turned away.
"Richard! Caroline!" I raised my voice, projecting warmth into it. "Thank you so much for the wonderful dinner. I'll see you both soon!"
Richard emerged from the kitchen, dish towel still in hand. "Lucas, walk Ellie out at least—"
"No need," I said quickly, already moving toward the door. "My dad's already waiting outside our house. It's just across the street."
Caroline stirred on the couch, lifting her head. "Ellie? You're leaving already?"
I went to her, crouching beside the couch to kiss her cool forehead. "Rest, Caroline. I'll come visit again soon, I promise."
"Love you, sweetheart," she whispered, her hand briefly touching my cheek.
"Love you too." My voice caught slightly on the words.
Lucas stood frozen in the middle of the living room, watching me with an expression I couldn't—wouldn't—try to read. I gave Richard one last quick hug and slipped out the front door before anyone could protest further.
The cool night air hit my face, and I looked across the quiet street to my own house. The porch light was on, and I could see my father's silhouette standing in the doorway, waiting for me. He raised his hand in a small wave.
I quickened my pace, then broke into a light jog across the street. Dad met me at the bottom of the porch steps, arms already open. I threw myself into his embrace, burying my face against his shoulder.
"Where's Mom?" I asked, my voice muffled against his jacket.
"Inside, holding your apple pie hostage," he chuckled. "It's windy out here, so I told her not to stand at the door."
I pulled back slightly and gave him a playful pout. "Not even for me?"
"Hey now," Dad laughed, tapping my nose gently. "Don't give me that look. You know your mother—she wanted to come out, but I practically had to wrestle the pie away from her to keep her inside where it's warm."