“No, you silly man. For fighting for us. For fighting to keep yourself. I’ve seen the work you’ve done and I’m so”—kiss—“fucking”—kiss—“proud of you.” Cupping his cheeks as she searched his clear gray eyes, she whispered, “Link, you stopped my freefall, too.”
And he truly had. She’d come to Alaska a lost soul, who didn’t know anything about herself or her heritage. He’d said she was the steady one, but Link didn’t see it. He’d sensed holes in her life and gone to great trouble to track down people who knew her father, just so he could give her a missing piece to the puzzle. He’d given her a pack and given her dear friends who had turned into family. He’d given her a sense of belonging and taught her how to survive this harsh life. He’d instilled confidence in her just by believing in her.
Link fed her strength, as she fed his. He did that for everyone who loved him.
He’d never been unsalvageable, and he’d never been a Weak Link.
Instead, he had improved every single life he touched and became the link that bound them all together.
Lincoln McCall was the good wolf—strong and loyal, and for the rest of her happy moments, he would be hers.
“You saved me,” he said softly.
“No, Link,” she whispered, “we saved each other.”
Epilogue
Nicole lifted the picture Lena had given her and smiled. It was a far cry from the holiday card Mom used to pose them for. There was no grand staircase or plastered smiles. No perfect decorations or stiff posture.
This one was better.
This was a captured moment of beautiful chaos.
In the photograph, Nicole’s new patchwork family stood in front of her and Link’s cabin, right in the spot the picture of Buck and her had been taken all those years ago. In it, Elyse stood in front of Ian, beaming and cradling her round stomach as Ian kissed the top of her head proudly. Elyse’s brother, Josiah, stood with crossed arms and was mid eye-roll next to his sister. Lena and Jenner were looking at each other mid-laugh, as Lena held a sprig of mistletoe over their heads. Vera was riding Tobias piggy-back style and giving him bunny ears while she crossed her eyes. Chance and Dalton Dawson lay in front, heads propped on elbows in the snow with matching grins on their faces as Miki pulled on Dalton’s pant leg like it was a rope-toy. Even Clayton had showed up on picture day. He stood stoically on the end, a slight smile on his face as he looked over at Ian and Elyse. And in the middle, Nicole stood next to Link. He hugged Nicole close to his side, and his neck was arched as he stared down at the tiny bundle in her arms while she smiled emotionally at the camera, birthmark proudly on display.
Lena had set the camera on a tripod and set it to automatically take pictures. The first few had been posed and perfect, and then the goofing had begun. This was the last picture of the bunch. It was the perfect one.
One last time, she read the letter she was sending Mom along with the picture.
Mom,
This cabin probably looks familiar to you, or perhaps not so much anymore. My husband, Link, and I have made many changes to it over the past year. We’ve had our baby—a little girl we’ve named Fina Clotilda McCall. She’s perfect, and clever, and beautiful. She has my black hair, but gray eyes like her daddy. And someday, when I’m ready, we’ll visit so you can meet her. I found my place here with these incredible people. I know I’m grown, and things got so messed up when I left, but I’m a mother now and understand that a parent’s worry is never really through. I just wanted to let you know, you don’t have to wonder if I’m okay. I’m better than okay.
I’m happy. I’m home.
Nicole McCall
Nicole wished she could tell her more. She wished she could tell her that Clotilda was teaching her to fish like the Yupik had done for generations and that she and Link spent weeks in the summers out with Elyse’s cattle, helping her brother, Josiah, keep the herd safe from predators. She wished she could tell her how hard, beautiful, and fulfilling this life was alongside Link, but Mom wouldn’t understand. On the two occasions Nicole had called her, her mom had assured her she would never visit this “awful place,” and that was fine. Clotilda had been right. Mom didn’t belong here like Nicole did.
She folded the letter and slid it into the addressed envelope with the photo, and she smiled when she heard the soft notes of Link’s lullaby and Fina’s answering coo.