Dead of Winter (Battle of the Bulls #2) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,62

because these pictures made her happy down to her soul.

The next pages were of her bucking in the arena. There had to be ten pictures on this spread. It was the sparkles of the camera flashes behind her as she was frozen mid-air, Buster holding on for dear life. One had Dead cheering for her. One was of her family, Annabelle, and Liam in their VIP box, all standing, cheering their guts out for her. Cheyenne had captured her victory laps and Dead’s look of utter pride as he stared at Hagan’s Lace. She got the scoreboard with her forty-one-point-four. She got the final rankings on the board, Hagan’s Lace taking fifth place for that single event. Quickdraw at one, Dead at two, Two Shots at third place.

She’d gotten pictures of them all hanging out with Raven’s family and Annabelle afterward, a group photo, all smiles, all genuine happiness.

The last part drew her heart into her throat.

The spread was covered with small, square pictures of Dead. Dozens of them. In each, he was looking down at his phone. It looked like he was texting or checking messages. Her messages. There were a couple of him sitting by himself watching a sunset. The sadness in his eyes in those two photos hurt.

She knew that kind of sadness intimately.

It was hers as well, being away from him.

She turned the page, expecting to find a blank one, and she did. It was blank, but not empty. There was a clear sleeve with a folded letter inside.

Cheyenne wrote:

Dear Raven,

Do you feel it yet? That pull to us? To Dead? Dead told us you haven’t been around many shifters like you, so perhaps you haven’t put your finger on that feeling yet. That hole. Sometimes herds are formed, and if one goes missing, that hurt is never patched. For us? For three weeks there has been a hole in our herd the size of a bowling ball. It doesn’t get better. It gets worse. Dead won’t ask you to leave your life if you’re happy. He doesn’t want to take you away from your family, or from your job, from your best friend or your home. Your happiness means too much for him to ask. So this is me, doing something he did for Two Shots and me once. He took pictures and showed them to us, made us realize what was happening. I hope that’s what these pictures do for you.

You belong with us, Raven. Dead is lost without you. He hasn’t told a dick joke in a week. If that isn’t a red flag, I don’t know what is. And if I’m honest? The rest of us are lost without you too. The boys ask about you every day, and there’s this weight on us now as we watch Dead struggle. It’s hard to get them to focus on the next event, and the next, when something so pivotal is missing.

Dead misses you.

I miss you.

The boys miss you.

This is me being selfish and asking you to call that place your “old home” and make a “new home” with us.

Dead, Dead, he’s in your head, he wants you here with him instead.

You’re a part of our herd.

Come home.

Your friend,

Cheyenne

There was a plane ticket resting in the clear pocket. Slowly, Raven pulled it out and read her name across the top. It was for tomorrow morning, landing in St. Louis, Missouri—Dead’s next event.

She clutched the ticket and the photobook to her chest and stared at the closed office door.

Cheyenne had titled the book, A Week to Remember, but it wasn’t just that. It was the week she fell in love, and she’d watched it happen all over again with this beautiful photo collage Cheyenne had taken the time to make for her. It was the week everything had fallen into place and she’d figured out who she was.

That hole Cheyenne had described? She felt it, too.

A herd.

Raven, the reject of the Hagan herd since birth, raised by humans, never quite able to fit in, had somehow secured a place in a real herd with people she adored and a man she absolutely and unconditionally loved.

With a sigh, Raven stood.

Come home.

Tears in her eyes, she nodded.

Okay.

Epilogue

Dead fidgeted with his flank strap. The worn thing had lost all of the spiky rope strands and was smooth now with age and use.

Was this worth it?

Was it?

He looked around the changing room. He’d been in thirty others, just like this one. He used to love this. Loved the adrenaline,