From Rejected Mate to Luna Chapter 46

Matthew's POV

The community center glowed with string lights and evergreen garlands, laughter and conversation spilling from its open doors into the cold December night. I stood in the parking lot, one foot on the first step, frozen in place.

"It's just a Christmas party," I muttered to myself, but my heart hammered as if I were facing down a rogue wolf.

*You need to do this,* Hati urged in my mind. *The pack needs to see their Alpha participating.*

Two years. It had been two years since I'd attended any pack celebration. Two years of declining invitations, sending James in my place, and burying myself in security reports while others celebrated around me.

I took a deep breath of pine-scented air and forced myself up the steps. When I pushed open the door, the wave of warmth, cinnamon, and conversation hit me like a physical force. A group of pack members near the entrance suddenly stopped talking, their eyes widening at the sight of me. Further inside, an elderly couple exchanged shocked glances before breaking into tentative smiles.

Mr. Abernathy, Rachel's old neighbor, quickly wiped the corner of his eye when he thought no one was looking.

The memories crashed in without warning – Rachel standing on a chair, struggling to hang garland along the ceiling beams. Her laugh when I lifted her down, spinning her in a circle while fake snow from the decorations dusted our hair. The way she always insisted on being the first to add ornaments to the tree, claiming the best spots for her collection of handmade stars.

The memory stung, but not with the usual knife-edge of pain. Instead, it warmed something long-frozen inside me. I could remember her joy without drowning in her absence.

"Matthew!"

Olivia's shocked voice cut through the room. She stood by the refreshment table, her pregnancy now unmistakable under her festive red sweater. Her hand flew to her mouth, and for a horrible moment, I thought she might cry. James appeared beside her, his expression a mixture of surprise and cautious hope.

"You came," he said simply, crossing the room to clasp my shoulder. His grip was firm, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Damn good to see you here, man."

Olivia rushed over as quickly as her condition allowed, throwing her arms around me. I awkwardly returned her hug, the unfamiliar contact making me tense before I forced myself to relax.

"Sorry," she said, stepping back with a watery smile. "Hormones. But Matthew, we're so happy you're here."

James cleared his throat. "The turkey needs carving. Want to help?"

I nodded, grateful for the task. In the kitchen, James handed me a carving knife, and I stared at it blankly. I'd never carved a turkey before – Rachel had always handled it, teasing me about my lack of culinary skills.

"Just don't take off a finger," James advised, seeing my hesitation. "Although with our healing abilities, I suppose it wouldn't be catastrophic."

My first slice was too thin, falling apart as I tried to transfer it to the serving platter. The second was comically thick. By the third, I had a small audience watching the Alpha of Spring Valley pack struggle with basic food preparation.

"You're supposed to go against the grain," Olivia advised, trying to keep a straight face.

"I'm going against a lot of things tonight," I replied, and suddenly, impossibly, I was smiling too. The kitchen erupted in laughter – not mocking, but the kind of warm laughter that knits a community together. For the first time in years, I felt like I belonged somewhere beyond my office and the forest where I ran alone at night.

As I finished mangling the turkey, James leaned in close. "I have some news," he said quietly. "I called your parents when you agreed to come tonight. They're thrilled, Matt. They're cutting their Canada trip short to be here for Christmas Eve."

The carving knife slipped, narrowly missing my thumb. "You've been in touch with my parents?"

James raised an eyebrow. "Of course. They call monthly for updates on you and the pack. Did you think they just disappeared?"

I had, in fact. After Rachel died, my parents had given me space – too much space, I'd thought bitterly. They'd started traveling around the world, supposedly for 'retirement,' leaving me to lead alone.

"They didn't want to interfere with your leadership," James continued, keeping his voice low. "They thought you needed to establish yourself without them hovering. But they've never stopped caring, Matthew. They've been waiting for a sign that you were ready."

"And my attending a Christmas party is that sign?" I couldn't keep the edge from my voice.

"You coming back to life is the sign," James replied bluntly. "This is the first step you've taken toward rejoining the world in two years."

I turned back to the turkey, focusing on the simple task to avoid showing how deeply his words had affected me. "So they just abandoned me to 'sink or swim' and now they're swooping back in? Convenient timing."

Hati growled in disagreement. *You know better. They gave you what you needed – independence to grow into your role as Alpha without leaning on them.*

He was right, though I hated to admit it. My parents' departure had forced me to focus on the pack rather than indulge my grief. Without them to fall back on, I'd had no choice but to step up. And now that I was beginning to emerge from the darkness, they felt it was safe to return.

The party flowed around me after that, pack members gradually becoming more relaxed in my presence. Children who had been shy at first now darted past me in games of tag, and elders who had kept their distance approached to share pack news and concerns.

As the evening progressed, James called for everyone's attention. "As you all know, it's our tradition for the Alpha to light the community tree," he announced. All eyes turned to me.

For the past two years, James had performed this duty in my absence. The simple ritual symbolized the Alpha's role as a bringer of light and guidance to the pack. My throat tightened as James handed me the ceremonial lighter.

I approached the massive pine tree, adorned but unlit, standing in the center of the community hall. I flicked the lighter.

The tree blazed to life, multicolored lights reflecting in the ornaments. The pack applauded, and children gasped in delight. For a moment, looking at their upturned faces illuminated by the gentle glow, I felt something I hadn't experienced in years: hope.

By the end of the evening, exhaustion settled over me like a heavy blanket, but beneath it was a different sensation – a quiet satisfaction. As people began to leave, I caught James and Olivia exchanging a knowing smile when they thought I wasn't looking. Something was changing in me, even if the road ahead still stretched long and uncertain.

The walk home through fresh-fallen snow was peaceful. Streetlights cast blue shadows across the pristine white ground, and my breath formed clouds in the cold air. My parents would be arriving soon. The thought made me both nervous and strangely eager. We had much to discuss, much to rebuild.

I paused at my front door, looking back at the neighborhood with its Christmas lights reflecting off the snow. "I think you'd like to see me trying again," I whispered to Rachel, my words visible in the frozen air. "I'm not sure how to do this without you, but I'm trying."

A single snowflake drifted down, landing on my cheek like a gentle touch before melting away.