by Sophie Stern
I didn’t miss the way she’s curvier and prettier than she was when I left.
Now, I run in the cold.
I run in the dark.
I run until I’m tired.
Then I push myself a little bit more and force myself to run. My heart hurts, but not from the movements. It hurts because I have a child.
I have a fucking kid and I didn’t know.
How the hell could she have dealt with this on her own?
How could she have done it?
Somehow, Alicia pulled herself up by her bootstraps and she became a mom. I was gone building my writing career at that point, and she was slaving away on her own trying to make a good life for our child.
I should have been there for her.
I should have.
I never should have left. I shouldn’t have run away. I should have stayed and fought for her. I should have fought for us. After everything fell apart with my dad, I should have sucked up my pride and just gone for it. I should have forced myself to make things work.
I hadn’t, though.
I had messed up, and now I was going to be paying the price.
Eventually, I reach a frozen patch of river, and I sit and look at the ice for a very long time. My summers here were wonderful. I used to run and frolic and have fun here. I used to play like nothing else mattered except whatever day I was enjoying.
My parents were in love, once upon a time, and sometimes they’d join me. My mom and dad both loved to swim, and we’d play for hours upon hours in the water and the sunshine. We’d pack a picnic lunch and just lose ourselves in happiness.
Somewhere along the way, we lost all that. My dad turned into a criminal and my mom pushed him away. I think she saw a lot of my dad in me, though, because sometimes I’d catch her looking at me and when I’d turn around, she’d act like she hadn’t been.
Things were rough on all of us after their divorce. Contrary to what my therapist said when I was a teenager, not all fences can be mended. Not all bridges can be rebuilt. Sometimes, what’s broken is broken and you just have to move on the best that you can.
Alicia had been there for me the entire time. She’d taken care of me, offering me comfort and kindness when I didn’t deserve it and I...
Well, I thought I was doing what was best by staying far away.
Eventually, I realize that a lot of time has passed, and I should probably head back to her house. I want to meet my child, and I want to ask her questions, and I want to find out exactly what happened after I left.
My mother had never really cared for Alicia, so what changed?
Why did my mom decide that she was suddenly ready to be there for Alicia?
The only person who can give me answers now is Alicia, so I start heading back to her house. Inside, I’m horrified. I’m shaking internally because not only have I revealed to her that I’m a bear, but she already knew. I didn’t get to be the one to tell her. I didn’t get to ease her into the idea. Someone – probably my mother – told her that I’m not even the human boy she fell in love with.
What will she think of me now?
It’s not that humans and shifters can’t get along. They can, they do, and they will. Still, the idea of me being a shifter had to be strange for her. It was something I’d always carefully avoided. Even though Alicia knew shifters existed – a few of our high school teachers were shifters, after all – it was still something we didn’t really discuss.
Now we were going to have to.
If not for us, then for our kid.
I run back to her home only to find the front porch on, but the door closed tightly shut. All of the interior lights seem to be off, and I wonder if she’s already gone to bed. The storm seems to be getting worse, though, with no signs of letting up.
I could run back to town if I wanted to, but I don’t have a hotel room or a place to stay. I literally drove into town and planned to clear things up with the attorney. Then I figured I’d just stay at my mom’s home. Now that I know I actually don’t have any rights to the house, though, things are a little different.
They’re a little more...muddled.
Now I know why my mother left the house to Alicia, though. She left it for my kid: her grandchild. My mother wasn’t always there for me, but knowing that she went out of her way to protect my own kid when I wasn’t around...
Well, that warms my heart.
If only just a little.
I move onto the porch and then I shift into my human form. My clothes are long-gone, and it’s cold, but it’s not like I can walk into her house in my bear form. I wouldn’t even fit through the door. Luckily, when I reach for the knob and turn, I find that the door swings open easily, and I step inside.
Sure enough, all of the lights are off. She must have figured that I was gone for the night and gone to sleep, but why did she leave the door open? Was it unlocked just in case I came back?
I shut the door quietly behind me and lock it. Then I make a mental note to talk with Alicia about better safety precautions. Even if she thought I was coming back, she shouldn’t have left the door unlocked. That’s not safe. It’s not safe for her or for the kid or for anyone.
I mean, what if the person who walked up to the door wasn’t me?
What if someone else came?
What if somebody wanted to hurt one of them?
The thought makes me feel sick, but I push it away. They’re safe, and I’m here, and first thing in the morning, we’ll talk. I’ll explain to Alicia how things are going to work, and I’ll find out what I need to do to set up visitation with my kid, and I’ll get to meet him. That’s what we’ll do. Yep. That sounds about right.
I move toward the couch. Does she have any sweatpants or t-shirts lying around? Being naked in Alicia’s house feels uncomfortable to me. I’m not scared of her seeing my body. I look good, and besides, she’s seen me before, but I don’t want to freak her out in the morning.
I notice a note on the coffee table, and I pick it up and read it.
Cage,
I’m crashing with Orlando tonight. The loft is all yours. There are t-shirts and sweats up there you can use. Toothbrush in the bathroom. See you in the morning.
A.
So that’s it.
Orlando.
That’s my kid, is it? Orlando. Good name. I like it. I’m glad she didn’t give our baby a goofy name unfit for a shifter. Orlando’s great. I love the city of Orlando. I love everything about it and I love the fact that our kid has a cool name.
Placing the note back down, I look around until I see the little staircase leading up to the loft. It’s so small and tucked to the side that I didn’t notice it earlier. Then again, I was a little distressed earlier.
First things first, though: I go into the bathroom, brush my teeth, and wash my face. Then I head up to the loft, find the clothes she set out for me, and crawl under the blankets.
Instantly, her scent surrounds me.
Instantly, I’m lost in her.
Again.
Chapter Five
Alicia
“Train, train, train.”
I open my eyes to see Orlando standing over me. Sure enough, he’s holding a bright red train in his hands.
“Red train,” he says in a sing-song voice. “Blue train.” He holds up another train. He makes them dance around in the air, and then he laughs and moves back to his toys. Pushing myself up off of the floor, I look around the room.
I don’t really remember setting up the little nest in a sleeping bag last night, nor do I remember Orlando waking up this morning. I feel sore when I push up off the floor. I’m way too old to be crashing on carpets. Once upon a time, sleeping in a sleeping bag at a friend’s house didn’t seem too bad.
Now it’s a nightmare.
“Train, train, train,” Orlando sings. I look over to see him moving his trains over the tracks he’s set up in his bedroom. “Train, train, choo choo choo.”
I stand up and stretch, cringing
as my achy body moves, and I make a mental note never to sleep on the floor again.
Then I remember why I slept in my son’s room.
Cage.
Is he here?
He was so angry and shocked when he ran out the door last night. He looked absolutely, totally wild. He looked like he had no idea how to handle what was happening to him, and I don’t blame him.
I’ve had years to come to terms with what happened.
He hasn’t.
Did he come back last night?
I left the door unlocked – something I never do – just in case he wandered in, but I was so tired that as soon as I grabbed a pillow and my sleeping bag, I really did just crash. If he came in, I didn’t hear him. I slept like the dead.
“Pancakes,” Orlando suddenly says, looking toward the bedroom door, which is closed. “Pancakes and bacon.”
Orlando has always been able to smell better than me. It’s part of his shifter heritage, I suppose. It doesn’t bother me at all. If anything, it’s an incredible asset. I love that my kid can scent the world around him in this way. It really is such a wonderful skill.
If he’s smelling pancakes, though, then there’s no doubt in my mind that Cage came back.
More than that, it’s time for him to meet Orlando.
I look at my little boy. I never planned to keep his dad from him, but I also never knew where Cage had gone. Orlando never really asked me where his daddy was, or who his daddy was. He always had his mom and his grannies, and that was enough for him.
Now it’s time.
I take a deep breath and I look at Orlando.
“Your daddy is here,” I tell him.
“Daddy?” Orlando looks up, surprised.
“Yep.”
I think a blunt approach is best for stuff like this. When you’re totally straightforward, nobody has a chance to be shocked or surprised. When you just tell people what’s up, they don’t have a chance to be bothered or upset by what you said. In Orlando’s case, me being honest lets him know that he can always trust me to be totally straight with him.
“Daddy,” he says, holding up a train. “Choo choo.”
Okay, so he super doesn’t care. Cool. He’s small enough that he doesn’t really understand what a “mom” or “dad” means. Not really. To him, “Mom” is my name. He’s also got a “Granny” and he had a “Grandma.” He’s got a “Papa.” He’s got all of these wonderful people in his life, and now he’s got someone he can call “Dad,” but to him, it’s just another name.
At least, I think that’s better than having him be older and thinking that this is a huge deal. It’s better for things to be like this than for him to think that there’s something wrong with him for growing up without a dad.
I shake my head and run my fingers through my hair. Suddenly, I realize that I’ve definitely got morning breath and my hair must look like a total mess. I’m a nasty sleeper, and I drooled all over myself in the night. It’s probably on my face. Gross.
It’s not that I think Cage and I will get back together.
Of course, we won’t.
That’s not in the cards for people like us, but I do think that I’d like to be the clear winner of this breakup, and for me, that means looking hot.
Only, when I push the door open that leads to the living room and kitchen, I realize that in this moment, the only winner here is Cage.
He’s wearing the t-shirt I left out for him. It’s actually an old shirt of his from high school, but he’s a lot more muscular now, and the shirt has to stretch to fit over his huge biceps. He’s got sweatpants on and it’s obviously there’s nothing on underneath.
Can we say, “cute butt alert”?
He looks over at us and smiles.
“Good morning,” he says. He sets down the spoon he’s using to mix the pancake batter, and he comes over to us.
“Good morning,” I manage to say.
“Hi,” Orlando pipes up.
Cage squats down in front of him and looks him up and down.
“What’s your name?”
“Orlando.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Cage.” Cage sticks his hand out, and Orlando stares at it for a long time. He looks back up at Cage and then over at me, as though he’s asking silently for permission to shake this guy’s hand.
I nod, letting him know that it’s totally fine.
Things may have ended horribly between Cage and I, but...
Well, he’s still Cage.
He’s still the guy I fell in love with all of those years ago, and “fell” is definitely the best way to describe what happened.
Orlando reaches out and the two of them shake hands. Something about the gesture makes me tear up a little.
Shit.
I do not need to be crying today.
Not over him.
Not over this.
I definitely don’t need to be crying over it, but I find that it’s almost impossible not to.
This is Cage we’re talking about. It’s my lover, and it’s the guy I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with. No, that hasn’t happened. Things between us are a little rough. They’re different than I expected them to be. I mean, that’s totally normal after spending so much time apart, right?
Only...
Only I want things to work out with him.
I want things to be fine between us.
I want...something.
“Want to help me make some breakfast?” Cage asks Orlando.
My son – no, our son – considers Cage for a moment. I can see Orlando silently sizing up the big guy. After all, it’s not very usual for me to have guests over. I’ve never had any guys over. Ever. The only woman who has ever spent the night here is Betty, and she’s passed on.
“Okay,” Orlando finally says, and together, he and Cage start cooking breakfast. Silently, I move over to the coffee maker and start brewing a pot. I’m a coffee kind of girl in the mornings. If I don’t have it, then I’m basically completely incapable of functioning.
Especially now with Cage around.
I can’t believe that he’s here.
He came back.
The idea of him being here is still completely strange to me, and I’m not really sure how I’m going to handle things moving forward. I’m guessing that he has questions about his mom, but, well, I have questions, too.
Those are going to have to wait for later, though. I move over to the front of the house and peer outside.
“We’re snowed in,” Cage says.
“How is that even possible?”
Sure enough, there’s more than a foot of snow outside. I must have slept harder than I thought because I didn’t even really hear the storm last night. Then again, snow isn’t exactly known for its thunder and lightning.
“You know these mountains,” he says casually. Then he keeps cooking with Orlando, as though this is the most normal thing in the world.
Somehow, we make it through eating, washing dishes, and kitchen clean-up without having a fight or bringing up sensitive topics in front of Orlando. Part of me is reeling with anxiety and frustration, though.
I want to scream at him and ask why he left.
Why he ran away.
Are these answers I’m ever going to get?
I don’t buy that we were just kids, or that he got scared, or any one of those horrible excuses people love to come up with.
I don’t buy that for one damn minute.
Nope.
There’s something more to the story: something he’s not telling me.
No matter what it takes, I’m going to get to the bottom of things.
Chapter Six
Cage
The day passes comfortably, but the snow shows no signs of letting up. I spend the entire day hanging out with Alicia and Orlando in their home, and it’s the most wonderful and unusual experience I’ve ever had.
There’s just something magical about the fact that I have a kid.
Me.
<
br /> Cage has a kid.
Damn, if that’s not the most unusual and incredible thing I’ve ever heard. I never really pictured myself as the fatherly type. I never thought, “Hey, I should have a kid.”
Now that I know about Orlando, though, I realize there’s absolutely no going back. After this understanding and this revelation, I’m never going to be able to go back to how I was before.
Only, there’s a part of me that realizes things can’t stay the same.
For any of us.
Now that I know about Orlando, I want to get to know him. I’ve missed four years of my kid’s life. I don’t want to miss any more moments.
How is Alicia going to feel about that?
At some point, probably tonight, I’m going to have to talk with her. We’re going to have to have a long, in-depth conversation about why I left and why I’m back, but more importantly, why I want to go where I’m going.
Is she going to understand how my career works?
Will she care?
More importantly, is she going to let me see my kid?
It’s no secret that I’m still attracted to Alicia. Even in the years I was gone, I never stopped missing her or loving her. She’s just totally herself, after all. How could I ever stop loving her?
But time has passed differently for her, and there’s a chance they may not want anything to do with me. She might not want me around at all. She might want me out of her life, out of our kid’s life, and out of town.
I can’t leave, though.
Not now.
Not after all of this.
“Bedtime,” Alicia says suddenly, glancing at the clock. Is it eight o’clock already? Both Orlando and I look up from where we’re playing with trains, and I realize that it’s definitely bedtime for the little guy, and it’s definitely not something any of us are looking forward to.
“Can’t he stay up a little later?” I ask.
I miss him.
I didn’t even know how much I missed him.
“No,” Alicia says carefully. “Orlando needs to go to bed on time. If he doesn’t, he’ll be super cranky in the morning.”