Ryder moved into my rental house. It was an awkward conversation with my landlord, trying to explain that I had gotten some insane illness that completely incapacitated me, then miraculously healed. He seemed too stunned to ask too many questions and a little wary, like whatever I had was going to leap of my skin and into his system over the phone. Still, I was grateful that he was kind enough to take a few months off my rent and to allow me to move back in. though with how run down the place was, it wasn't surprising that he hadn't found a new tenant.

Ryder set my duffle bag and his own down in the entryway of my home. "Listen, I'm not opposed to staying in a hotel. If you want space, I completely understand. This is...a lot."

"Ryder, I want you in my house," I announced. "Even if I was able to move around properly, I would still want you here. You have been my partner for a long time. it wouldn't feel right to be here, alone."

It wasn't poetry, but it was the direct delivery Ryder needed. He studied my face for a moment, looking for the lie. After that, he didn't ask me again.

There were dozens of questions to be answered and hard conversations to be had, but we released those responsibilities for the time being. We started with a shower in my own home, with my own products. But with my shaking legs and poor balance, I needed help. With the mate bond gone, it felt sticky and unusual to ask Ryder for help and the first moments were strange. He was gentle – as always – and constantly asked if every movement was okay. Boundaries were more complicated now and he needed all the green lights I could give him.

There was no overwhelming spark when he touched my bare skin. I didn't want to scream with the intensity when his naked chest pressed against my back, an arm around my waist as he maneuvered me into the shower with him. But there was a steadiness to his touch and there was still a level of comfort when he held me up or when he soaped up his hands and ran them over my body. Down my stomach, over my thighs and ankles. Under the small swell of my breasts, along the lines of my arms.

"I feel pathetic," I whispered into the steamy air.

Ryder kept his body close by, but released me when I lathered my shampoo into my hair.

"I can't shower on my own. I can't walk around a grocery store. I don't know if I have the strength to drive my car, or get out of it for that matter."

"You can look at it that way, if you want," Ryder murmured. Slow fingers dripped down the line of my spine. "Or you can consider the fact that your muscles have been out of use for four months and you are still able to stand on your own. You can still feed yourself. You could get yourself a glass of water. That's incredible, George."

So, I didn't complain about my lack of function after that. I told myself that I was grateful for my weak, skinny legs when they carried me to the bathroom. I was loved the arms that could lift an apple to my mouth. I appreciated the core that engaged when I felt my body begin to stumble. This body was fighting for me every step of the way.

And my body needed to recover from the quarter year that passed just as much as my mind did. Ryder would cook in my kitchen. I would sit at the bar and watch. Sometimes I would cry out of frustration. Sometimes I would ask him questions about everything I had missed. Where had he gone? What had he been through? What was it like coming back to the royal lands and seeing me there?

And things got better slowly. Sometimes, I was able to stand for long enough that I could cook a meal. I started finishing my basic exercises without being completely exhausted. I could stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. the smallest things became milestones: going to a grocery store, taking a walk around the block, being able to bench press my little five pound dumbbells. Each one was a victory.

It became easier to accept what we were now, day by day, just like everything else. At first, it was easy to consider the relationship dead in the water. We were only together out of convenience and ease. But he would shoot me his secret smiles. I would laugh at a joke that wouldn't have been funny from anyone else's mouth. I would sing along to songs he introduced me to. He would plan out my meals so I would have enough protein and carbs to recover.

It wasn't the soul-altering mate bond.

But the love I had in my heart was strong. He was my comfort. He was my solace. And, at the end of the day, he was the only home I wanted to return to.

He was the person I wanted by my side when I finally made the decision to visit my parents' grave.

The cemetery was on the edge of town, a quiet place with large old trees now bearing orange leaves. The plots where my parents had been buried were still fresh, the grass not grown in yet. The flowers that had been placed by the headstones were all very dead though.

I don't know when I started crying, but Ryder was there immediately to pull me into him, tucking my head against his shoulder. It had all felt like a bad dream. I knew in my head that they were gone, but my heart refused to believe it. until now. Until I looked at the headstones with their names on them.

We stayed there for what might have been hours. At some point the tears slowed and I was able to get words out.

"I should have been there. I should have been with them. What if they were scared? What if they were in pain and they didn't even know the people around them?" I sobbed.

"You weren't able to be there. That's not your fault, Georgia."

"And my brother Craig was at the funeral," I spat, wiping my nose with my sleeve. "He showed up with his pretty little wife and acted like he cared. Like he was there for any part of it. And when I was there with Milo, he even came up and tried to talk to me. The second he found out that I had wolf-drain, he acted like I was contagious."

"Georgia, modern medicine can't explain what happened to your parents. You have every right to be angry, but maybe he deserves a little slack? What was he supposed to think?"

"He should have been there from the beginning. I was willing to put myself at risk for them, why wasn't he?" I defended. "My parents were hundreds of kilometers away from me when they died. There is no correlation."

As soon as the words left my mouth, they felt wrong. Because my parents died when I started to show signs of wolf drain. When my wolf-drain plateaued at Milo's place, they were dead.

Ryder sensed the shift, staying silent beside me.

"What made Ajax sick when I went into heat?" I asked.

"George, we don't need to talk about this right now. This never has to be your problem again. You have helped Ajax and Keiko so much already. And with the mate bond gone, with everything you have went through, this isn't your fight anymore."

"What made Ajax sick?" I repeated.

"A cookie or something."

"From where?"

"From your fridge or freezer, I think. They said they took it with them when they cleaned the house out," he explained. "Please, just let this go. You need to rest up and heal. We need to heal," he sighed. His heavy head settled on my shoulder.

"Was it a cinnamon bun?" Like the one that had been fed to my parents the last time I saw them? Like the one Dawn gave me?

"I think so, why?"

"I think we should stop by Milo's house."

~~~Question of the Day~~~

If you have a bucket list, have you completed anything on it?