Alpha's Claimed Mate

The "SOLD" sign stabs into the front lawn like a knife through my chest.

I stand on the porch, my fingers gripping the railing until my knuckles turn white. This house...my house...with its chipped blue paint and the creaky third step that Mom always meant to fix. The ghost of her laughter still echoes in these walls, in the salt-worn wood, in every crack and corner I've memorized over eighteen years.

'She's everywhere here. And now I'm leaving her behind.'

My throat tightens. I won't cry. Not yet.

"Ellie, sweetheart."

Grandma's voice is soft behind me, but I don't turn around. If I look at her, if I see that gentle understanding in her eyes, I'll break.

"I know this is hard," she continues, her footsteps quiet on the old porch. "Your friends, Ryan..."

"It's not about Ryan." The words come out sharper than I mean them to. I force myself to breathe, to soften. "I mean... it's not just about Ryan."

Grandma moves beside me, her weathered hand finding mine on the railing. Her skin is warm, papery soft. Real. "Then what is it, honey?"

I bite my lip. How do I explain this ache that's been growing in my chest since the moment she told me we were moving? How do I tell her that leaving Florida feels like abandoning the only piece of Mom I have left?

"I'm scared," I whisper. "What if... what if I forget her? What if Texas makes everything fade until I can't remember what her voice sounded like or the way she smelled like coconut sunscreen and coffee?"

Grandma's hand releases the railing and moves to my chest, pressing gently over my heart. The gesture is so tender it steals my breath.

"Your mother lives here," she says, her voice firm despite the shine of tears in her eyes. "Not in that house. Not in this town. Here. And no amount of distance can change that."

I want to believe her. God, I want to.

"Come on." Grandma squeezes my hand. "Let's go watch the sunset. One last time."

The beach is empty when we arrive, just the way I like it.

I slip off my sandals and let my toes sink into the cool sand, breathing in the salt air that's been my constant companion for as long as I can remember. The sun hangs low on the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink and gold.

Grandma settles onto our usual spot...a weathered piece of driftwood that's somehow always here, waiting. But I can't sit. Not yet. I walk to the water's edge, letting the waves lap at my feet, each one pulling away a little more of the girl I used to be.

'This is it. Tomorrow, I'll wake up somewhere else. Someone else.'

"Ellie."

My heart stops.

I know that voice. I'd know it anywhere, even though it shouldn't be here, can't be here...

I spin around, and there he is.

Ryan.

He's backlit by the dying sun, all golden edges and shadows, his dark hair windswept and his eyes bright with something I can't name. He's wearing that leather jacket I love, the one that smells like him...cedar and rain and something indefinably Ryan.

"What are you doing here?" My voice breaks on the last word.

He closes the distance between us in three long strides, and then his hands are on my face, tilting my chin up so I have to look at him. His thumb brushes my cheekbone, and I realize I'm crying.

"I couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye," he murmurs. "Not like this."

"Ryan, we already..."

"No." His grip tightens, gentle but insistent. "Not like that. Not with you crying in your room and me pretending I'm fine with this."

He pulls me against his chest, and I go, because I always go to him. His arms wrap around me like a vice, like he's trying to press me into his bones, and I clutch at his jacket, breathing him in one last time.

"I'll find you," he whispers into my hair. "I don't care how long it takes. Someday, somewhere, I'll find you again."

I pull back enough to look up at him. "Ryan, that's not..."

He kisses me.

It's desperate and sweet and tastes like goodbye. His lips are soft but demanding, moving against mine with a familiarity that makes my chest ache. I kiss him back because I don't know how to do anything else, pouring everything I can't say into this moment...I love you, I'll miss you, I'm sorry, thank you...

"Ellie!" Grandma's voice cuts through the air, sharp with warning.

Ryan pulls away slowly, his forehead resting against mine for one more heartbeat. Then he steps back, his hands sliding down my arms until only our fingertips touch.

"See you around, Anderson," he says, that crooked smile I love breaking across his face even as his eyes shine with unshed tears.

Then he's gone, walking backward up the beach, his gaze never leaving mine until the gathering darkness swallows him whole.

I stand there long after he's disappeared, my hand automatically going to the promise ring on my finger...a thin silver band with a tiny diamond that Ryan gave me on my seventeenth birthday.

'He promised forever.'

But forever is for people who get to stay.

The tears come then, hot and fast, streaming down my face until I can't see the ocean anymore. I let myself cry, let myself feel every crushing ounce of grief and loss and fear, until there's nothing left but hollow exhaustion.

Grandma appears at my side, her arm wrapping around my shoulders.

"You loved him," she says. It's not a question.

"I did." I do. "But love doesn't stop the world from turning, does it?"

She's quiet for a moment, and when she speaks, her voice carries the weight of someone who's loved and lost more than I can imagine. "No, honey. It doesn't. But it does make the ride worthwhile."

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, tasting salt...from the sea or my tears, I can't tell. The sun has almost fully set now, leaving only a thin ribbon of light on the horizon.

I take one last look at the beach, at the waves rolling endlessly onto the shore, at the home I've known my entire life.

Then I turn my back on it all.

"I'm ready," I tell Grandma, and I mean it. Ready or not, Texas is waiting.

'Goodbye, Florida. Hello, Texas.'

And with that silent farewell echoing in my heart, I walk away from my past and toward whatever future awaits me in the wild, unknown dark.