Chapter 7
Aaron and Sierra came out of the bedroom just as Rachel was finishing her coffee.
Sierra acted like nothing had happened, her smile bright and breezy. “Rachel! We were just talking about you. Aaron and I decided–you’re going to be our official photographer for the mating ceremony. You have to make me look amazing.”
Rachel didn’t even blink. “Can’t. I won’t be there.”
Sierra’s smile faltered. “Are you still upset about yesterday? I said I was sorry… really, I didn’t mean to upset you. If you’re still mad, I can apologize again-”
She looked on the verge of tears, lips trembling as she opened her mouth like she was about to deliver the most dramatic apology of the year.
Aaron cut her off, pulling her into his side. “You don’t owe her an apology.”
Emily, sensing the tension, stepped in with a gentle voice. “Sierra, it’s alright. Rachel’s just protective of her film–that’s her life’s work. Of course she’s upset. But no need to
make it a big deal.”
“I just feel like I ruin everything,” Sierra whispered, eyes wide and watery. “I really
didn’t mean to mess things up.”
Aaron leaned down to kiss her temple. “It’s fine. Just be more careful next time. Now come on–didn’t you say you were starving?”
Sierra let out a playful giggle. “Well, I wouldn’t be so hungry if someone hadn’t kept me
very busy this morning…”
Aaron chuckled, shaking his head. “Mm–hmm. And I’m supposed to feel guilty now?”
“Maybe just a little.”
“Not happening. Now sit that pretty ass down and eat something.”
He pulled out her chair, waited for her to sit, and even tucked her napkin onto her lap.
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She left him behind and never looked back again.
Only after making sure she was settled did he finally sit beside her.
He picked up a piece of toast, lazily spreading jam across it. “Rachel,” he said without looking up, “next weekend’s our mating ceremony. Whatever you’ve got going on- cancel it. You’re doing our photos. After twenty years of being like family, it’s the least
you can do.”
The doorbell rang.
One of the housekeepers went to answer it.
A woman stood on the front step–middle–aged, modestly dressed, with kind eyes and
a calm smile.
“Good morning,” she said. “I’m looking for Rachel Hudson. I’m from the community aid center. She reached out to donate some clothing for winter relief. We scheduled a
pickup for today.”
Rachel stood up. “That’s me. Give me just a minute–I’ll bring the boxes down.”
She ran upstairs and returned with several large boxes, all packed and sealed.
The woman smiled warmly. “Thank you so much, Rachel. It’s getting colder, and a lot
of the girls at the shelter don’t have enough for the season. These will make a big
difference.”
“No problem,” Rachel said. “Just make sure they get delivered soon. They’ll need
them.”
“We will. Thank you again.”
“Wait-” Aaron stepped forward, frowning as he glanced down at the six or seven huge
boxes stacked by the door.
“You’re giving away all your clothes?”
Emily looked equally confused. “Rachel, honey, it’s sweet you’re donating, but you
could’ve just given money. What are you going to wear when it gets cold?”
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She left him behind and never looked back again.
Rachel looked at Aaron and smiled faintly. “Didn’t you say you’d compensate me for the damage Sierra did? These are old. I’m getting rid of them. With the money, I’ll buy new ones. Isn’t that fair?”
Aaron studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. How much do you want? I’ll transfer it right now.”
Rachel lifted her hand and held up one finger.
Aaron raised a brow. “A million?”
She shook her head.
“Ten million?”
Sierra’s voice pitched higher. “Excuse me? For a bunch of old clothes?!”
Rachel gave her a slow, cutting smile. Then turned back to Aaron.
“No. One dollar.”
Every piece she was giving away had once been picked out by him. Bought for her.
Forced onto her, even when she didn’t want it.
And now?
She didn’t want to take any of it with her.
Not his clothes.
Not his money.
Not even the memory.
He was the one who said it–this was the Whitemoon Pack.
And she was an outsider.
One dollar.
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She left him behind and never looked back again.
D
A clean break.
Aaron’s jaw tightened. “Rachel, what the hell are you trying to do?”
“Does it matter?” she said, calm and cold. “You paying or not?”
He stared at her for a long beat, like he wanted to say something else. Then, with a sharp breath, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and started typing.
A moment later, her phone buzzed.
“Done,” he muttered. “Happy now? That should more than cover whatever Sierra ruined. So let it go, alright? Stop punishing her for a mistake.”
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She left him behind and never looked back again.
