A week later

I felt restless, like there was an unreachable an itch underneath my skin. It had been three months since my Chrissie had died, since I had buried her in the ground and I had suddenly realized just how much I hadn't done. Menza kept the house clean and never let the interior feel dim. She brought Maeve out to socialize and visit, softly talking to my little female, and with that brightness came awareness that I hadn't done anything.

My house, while not anywhere near rundown, was starting to look neglected. The yard had overgrown and I knew the gutters needed to be cleaned. It was like when Menza had tossed the curtains open and polished everything to a shine, she had thrown a very bright light on my current failings. I mourned my Chrissie, I did and I felt her loss like a brutal bone break that wasn't healing, but even I knew Chrissie wouldn't have liked me let my life get so shadowed and neglected.

It had honestly started when I had made Menza and myself dinner a few nights ago. It had been simple and easy but that was what started that overbearing itch underneath my skin. So I had then shaved, started taking care of myself as well as Maeve. Now I had finished mowing the lawn and the gutters had been cleaned and the flower beds that Chrissie had so lovingly tended to, had been weeded.

The flowers had still been there and I had fought hard not to cry as I remembered Chrissie digging in the flower beds, her pink and green gardening gloves on, her floppy sunhat hanging in her face. It had been bittersweet to see all those flowers and remember my female but I had gotten it done. Afterwards Menza had brought Maeve out and then quietly asked if I would like for her to tend to the flower beds.

My first instinct had been to snap at her and to tell her to never touch them but I forced myself to pause, to look at the flowers and understand that Menza was asking because flowers needed care and attention to continue to survive. That Menza wasn't asking to rip it all out and start again, just to take care of what my Chrissie had planted and cared for. I knew I had paused for a little too long when she had asked me if this was one of the moments I needed a bit more time with. I had said yes and then decided I would take care of them myself, at least for now. And with that she had quietly nodded her acceptance without a single ounce of judgement before showing Maeve the flowers.

It was easier for me, to view her as sort of a guest, a permanent guest, but a guest none-the-less. She was a good female, a kind one. Our talk a week ago had let me know that despite how horrendous her father had been, that no matter how poorly I had treated her, she honestly believed she deserved it. Which had made my stomach sour, especially when she had looked up at me, her brown eyes wide and filled with confusion at my lack of understanding that she understood exactly what her father did tossing her to me.

She had known, right from the start. She understood she was to never again be underneath her father's protection after he had tossed her at me. It was not a nice feeling, realizing that the rather sweet female had been browbeaten and neglected to the point she was fully aware of what her father had done and simply expected it. I couldn't understand it but then again I looked at my little Maeve and knew I would never, ever, revoke my protection from her. She could be a hundred years old and I would always be there for her, my reach of protection still wrapped around her.

However the entire situation made me feel like an utter asshole for treating Menza as I had. She was a lost female, someone who believed in the worth her father gave her and had simply accepted the verbal barbs about her being unwanted that I had tossed at her from the moment she had entered my home. I just wished I could give her the worth that she had, rather than what her father had given her. But unless I was passing her off to another, I had no recourse for that. It just didn't sit right with me that she had simply accepted all of it because she believed it was my right to be as horrible to her as I had been.

I paced the living room and frowned. As much as I felt guilty for how I treated her, I knew there was little I could do to change it. I simply had to change how I reacted to her and hope she understood that I was more than apologetic for how I had behaved prior. That didn't really matter at this point as I scratched at my neck. The gutters were clean, the yard was done, the flowers were watered, and the house was meticulously spotless thanks to Menza and I was left with absolutely nothing to do.

I wasn't a male who was used to a sedentary lifestyle, I doubted there was a shifter who was. I needed to do something, anything. Even my wolf was pacing with restless energy. We were used to doing things, running drills, training the males, just constant movement. So the fact we now had nothing to do to help dissolve that restless energy was bothering me greatly.

I let out another sigh, rubbing my face. Maeve was sleeping, I had put her down less than half an hour ago, Menza was in her room, and I needed something to do. My eyes scanned the room but Menza always left things spotless. I could never fault the female on how clean she kept my house. I let out a sigh and frowned, I wondered if a walk would help. At the thought my wolf fully agreed with it but I didn't feel right just taking off and leaving Menza in the house. Out of everyone, she deserved a break from the walls surrounding us. She never got to leave because I never did and when I did she stayed with Maeve.

I let out another sigh, rubbing at my forehead before I stopped. I had done everything... my thoughts trailed off as I looked down to where our bedroom door sat. My heart ached as I contemplated about what to do. I had done everything but enter our bedroom. My first instinct was to deny it, to leave it for another day, to just go for a walk but I knew I was only delaying the inevitable. Chrissie wasn't ever coming home and I couldn't sleep on the couch forever. I took a step, grimacing at the lance of pain through my chest as my wolf whimpered.

I knew it needed to be done. I knew it did but it was hard. I gave a half turn to walk away before I stopped. I stared down at the hardwood floors Menza scrubbed a few days ago, their shine still prominent before I let out a heavy sigh. I would do it but I knew I couldn't do it alone. With that thought I moved towards my old office and knocked on the door before opening it.

Menza's hair was down and she was running a brush through her black curls. Her hair looked almost wet and she looked at me, her eyes wide. "Is everything alright?" She went to get up and I nodded my head.

"What are you doing? With your hair?" I gave a faint gesture, knowing I was stalling but unable to help myself. I wasn't a person who generally cared about hair care or anything to do with hair. I cut mine and kept it manageable but I never paid attention to it. Menza's hair care routine was utterly beyond me.

"Oh, it...it's my refresher day. I had to take it down, put in my curl refresher to hold me over to my next hair wash day, just to keep my hair moisturized and healthy." She gave that soft, bolstering inhale before letting it shudder out of her. "I was just getting ready to put it into a braid." She said it in that familiar soft tone in her voice and with a bit of a tremble, as if afraid I would snap at her and I winced when I realized that was all on me because I had snapped at her about it, several times.

"Okay." I didn't understand it but then again I didn't have hair like hers. I stared at it, tilting my head. It was just...a lot. She had curls on curls on curls, a big billowing cloud of hair, even slightly wet looking. I had the oddest urge to take a curl and tug it slightly to see if it would spring back into shape. I could only imagine what her hair would look like completely dry.

"Is... is it alright that I do this?" At the quietly said question I nodded.

"It's just... I've never actually seen anyone with that much hair." Chrissie had curls, but in a soft and muted way, gentle waves that tangled together only once in a while. Menza's hair looked like it could become wild and tangled just by her moving it slightly. There was just so much of it.

"Is it..." She gave that bolstering inhale again and I flicked my gaze to her face. She looked pained and almost sad. "Does it bother you? Would you..." She closed her eyes and inhaled again, the sound shaky. "Do you want me to cut it?"

At the almost trembled question I reared back. "Fuck no! I don't give a fuck about your hair that much." I shook my head, rubbing at my face. I didn't want to look at her again because I honestly didn't want to get into the discussion about it. I could only imagine just how well her father took all of her hair. Probably had it buzzed as often as he could. I bet anything he would have tried to bleach her skin if he had half a fucking chance. The bastard.

"I'm sorry." She apologized so quietly that I had to sigh. I had scared her. A part of me was still agitated by how timid she was and the other part of me, the one that tugged on my stomach said she was timid because I had shown her that she needed to be.

"No, I apologize. I didn't come in here about your hair or anything like that. I just got distracted when I saw it." I pressed my fingers to my forehead and frowned. It wasn't that her hair was a distraction, it was that I was looking for a distraction and I had never seen hair like hers before. Granted I doubted anyone in the pack had ever seen hair like hers before. Then again we lacked a certain aspect of diversity while Stenton chased his version of blood purity or whatever the fuck he wanted to call it.

"Oh. What is it you needed?" The question was asked softly and I took my own bolstering inhale and tried to stop how much my body shook as that lance of pain shot through me once again.

"I... I want to go through Chrissie and I's bedroom." My voice cracked and I swallowed against the lump in my throat as my eyes burned. I was just happy my hand was already covering my eyes because I didn't want her to see how badly just thinking about doing it broke me. I was supposed to be over it, I was supposed to be okay. It had been three months and I knew exactly what Stenton would be saying to me.

"Oh. I can help." There was a note of compassion to her voice that had that lump in my throat growing. "Can I have a moment to put my hair up?" At the question I nodded, not trusting myself to speak when I felt like I was going to fall into pieces. That space was the last space I had that held my Chrissie. Her scent would still permeate every inch of it and it would be mixed with mine. I knew her dressing gown would be tossed across the bed in the same position as when she last took it off.

I knew every inch of that room would remind me of her but I knew I had to start somewhere. There was no use in making a shrine and I knew her scent would fade away regardless. I needed to make a choice and I knew it needed to be done. Leaving the room standing was just a testament to how I was unable to move on for Maeve, how I would always put her second to her dead mother and I couldn't do that to her.

"Okay. I'm ready." At the words I opened my eyes and Menza looked up at me, her lithe hands smoothing down her pale grey skirts. Her hair was twisted into a rather large, messy bun that she had what looked to be a red satin bandana securing it with the little bowed knot resting just above her hair line in the front. With her hair up it seemed to emphasize just how tiny she was. Her neck was slender and long and it met her dainty shoulders that moved in a delicate line down to her arms.

"No braids?" I found myself giving her a rather pained smile and she patted her hair style almost self consciously.

"I thought it would take too long." Her voice trailed off as she clasped her hands in front of her and I shook my head slightly

"You look a little like that mundane poster, the Rosie one with the red bandana." I didn't know the name of the poster but I could remember the flex with the white words 'We Can Do It!' that rested along the top in a black speech bubble. She look cute, to be perfectly honest. My wolf sniffed, throwing me an image of a rabbit before shaking his fur out in response to my thought. I nudged him slightly. He could believe that cuteness equalled prey all he wanted but he had to admit that the little female was rather cute with her little bandana like it was.

She looked slightly confused, her nose scrunching up before she beamed up at me. "Rosie the Riveter!" I stared at her for a few moments. She had dimples and a very sweet smile that I had a feeling didn't come out very often but all in all it just reinforced for me that she was small and she was cute. Her smile made her almost glow with a warmth that practically radiate kindness.

"Yah. Rosie the Riveter." I couldn't help how softly I said it and she flushed slightly before threading her fingers together. I coughed slightly and looked away, to sure what to even say after that. "We should... we should probably start." I turned away and started for my bedroom door. I didn't like that awkwardness her smile left me with.

I didn't like it at all.