by LynnLorenz
Ted gave him a serious look. “No doughnuts.”
Scott held his hands up as if under arrest. “I promise.” He headed for the door.
“Get the egg whites on the sausage biscuit!” Ted called out.
“Werewolf, remember?” Scott grinned, patted his belly, and then closed the door behind him.
As he trotted down the stairs to his cruiser, he made a mental note to give Ted a call. Maybe they could all meet for lunch today if nothing pressing came up.
At some point soon, he’d have to talk about the change with Charles. But first he needed to talk to Mike, get some advice on how to do this. Mike had been through it with his son not too long ago.
“Mr. Canedo!” Timothy raised his hand. The boys sat in front of the TV watching educational cartoons. Charles looked bored and irritated, probably from the excitement of the night, even if he had no idea why he was so out of sorts.
“It’s Ted. And you don’t have to raise your hand.” Ted paused as he wiped down the kitchen counter.
“What are we going to do today?” The little boy’s eyes lit up, and he bounced in his seat on the couch. Cute.
Ted threw the dishcloth over his shoulder and leaned on the counter with both hands.
“Hadn’t thought about it.”
Charles snorted. “Figures.”
“Hey, keep your snorts to yourself. I had a rough night, no thanks to you.”
The older boy shrugged. “I was sleeping.”
“You were crying. A. Lot.” Timothy grinned, puffing his chest out.
“No, I wasn’t.” Charles went to shove his brother, but a stern look from Ted halted him.
“Well, let’s not worry about that, okay?” Ted tried to keep the peace. He needed to come up with something for them to do and fast, before all-out war erupted. Their house wasn’t the most kid-friendly, even if they had some of the boys’ toys. If they were at the boys’ house, they’d go outside to play in the backyard or ride bikes around the neighborhood. Blow off some energy. But Scott didn’t have a backyard, just woods, and no safe neighborhood streets, just roads.
“Have you guys ever painted?”
Timothy nodded. “In kindiegarden.”
“Painting is for babies. Dad said.” Charles glared at Timothy, who melted into silence. That had to stop. Charles might be better at dealing with adults, but he continued to bully his little brother.
“I paint.” Ted straightened to full height and gave his best cop glare. “Do I look like a baby?”
“Nope.” Timothy shook his head, but Charles just stared back, his mouth working as if he wanted to make some smart-ass comment.
“In fact, I sell my paintings for a lot of money.”
Charles narrowed his eyes. “How much money?”
“My last painting sold for one thousand dollars.” Ted had to work hard to keep the smirk off his face. He was not showing off to a couple of kids, and since when did earning their respect and admiration mean anything to him?
“Wow!” Timothy clapped. “That’s a lot of money! More than a hundred, I bet.”
Charles’s face fell. Good.
“So do you boys want to learn to paint?” Ted looked from one to the other.
“You bet!” Timothy jumped up. “I’m going to make a million dollars!”
Charles snorted. “Not if I make it first.”
Okay. They were interested, even if it turned into a competition. That was better than fighting, right?
Ted set both boys up at opposite ends of his worktable with a small canvas, a limited palette of acrylic paints, and a couple of brushes. He gave them each an old shirt of his to wear as an apron so their clothes wouldn’t get dirty and rolled up the sleeves.
“What should I do?” Charles stood in front of his easel, brush poised in the air.
“I’m painting a beautiful flower!” Timothy dipped his brush in the yellow and started what looked to Ted like the beginning of a sunflower. Or a daisy.
Ted walked over to Charles. “Well, I like to paint my favorite things. What are some of yours?”
“Well, not the same as you.” The snarky attitude slipped out before Charles clamped his hand over his mouth.
Ted stared at Charles without saying a word. This boy would make him crazy one day. Soon. Or drive him to drink. His silence stretched. Charles shifted from one foot to the other.
“’Cuz you’re a man. A grown-up.” Charles smirked.
Ted lifted an eyebrow and remained silent.
“Sorry.” Charles cleared his throat. “I like animals.”
“I love ponies!” Timmy giggled. “Paint a pony. With stars on its back and a long silver mane.”
“No way.” Charles grimaced. “I’m going to paint a real cool animal. Something fierce.” His lips twisted as he studied his blank canvas.
“Like a wolf?” Ted must have hit gold, because Charles’s eyes lit up.
“Yeah. I could paint a wolf. With big teeth. Snarling. And glowing yellow eyes.” The boy hooted and picked up his brush.
He set to work, outlining the shape of the wolf’s head with black paint, for once his concentration totally focused on the painting, not on what his brother did at the other end of the table.
Ted sighed. He hoped this would keep them busy until lunch. He could handle feeding them. He’d just have to figure out what to do afterward. How did moms do this?
Maybe they should look into summer camp?
He walked around, between the boys, giving tips and praise for their efforts. Timothy’s flower blossomed, looking more like a Van Gogh than a child’s painting. It made Ted smile. There was hidden talent in this child. It just needed to be brought out without him losing his spark of freedom and innocence.
But Charles blew Ted away. He worked, never stopping except to load his brush with paint, then attack the canvas. The fierce expression the kid had captured on the face of the wolf amazed Ted. Although it wasn’t detailed, the snarl, the intensity of the yellow eyes, the harsh white slashes of bared teeth, and the muzzle’s purple wrinkles in mid-snarl, came shooting out of a dark background.
“Wow. Charles. It’s amazing.” Ted let his voice fill with awe. Charles deserved it.
Charles stood back, holding his brush. He exhaled, staring at the painting as if he’d never seen it before. Maybe he hadn’t.
Timothy came over, brush in hand. “Charles, it’s great! You’re better than me by a mile.” He patted his brother on the back. “I want to paint a wolf next.”
Charles smirked. “I can show you how. If you want.”
“Sure.” Timothy’s wide-eyed stare had Charles puffed up like a little rooster.
“We can work on those tomorrow. How about that? For today, let’s finish these.”
The boys nodded and went back to work.
Ted’s phone vibrated. “Ted.”
“Hi, babe. How about lunch? I’ve got some free time between meetings.”
“Sounds good. We’ll finish up here and meet you at the diner in an hour?”
“It’s a date.”
Ted disconnected. “Hey, guys. How about lunch in town at the diner with the sheriff?”
“I’m not finished yet.” Charles frowned. “Do we have to go now?”
“I know what it’s like to have to take a break when you’re really going good, but it will still be here after lunch.” Ted checked his watch. He hadn’t thought to do more this afternoon, but Charles was on a roll. “Can we do that?”
“Sure. I can finish it after lunch.” Charles shrugged.
“Great. Let’s clean up the brushes and get your paint covered so it won’t dry out, and then we can go.”
With the boys following instructions and not arguing, they got ready in record time.
Maybe he couldn’t handle nightmares, but painting? He had this.
Ted pulled up outside the diner. Several spaces were open, since it was almost one and the lunch rush was past. He got the boys out of the car and herded them inside.
“Are we late?” Ted didn’t want Scott to have to rush off. Getting to see him in the middle of the day was a treat.
“Nope. Just got free a little early, that’s all.” He turned his attention to the kids as they started to slide into the bench seat across from Scott.
Ted motioned for Scott to move over, and he took Timothy’s hand. “Here. Sit with the sheriff.” Letting the boys sit together might just be pushing their luck on good behavior.
“Okay!” Timothy hopped out and next to Scott, who shifted toward the window.
“Want the window seat, Charles?” Ted gave him a smile. Maybe letting Charles have a little control of his life might help.
“Sure.” He shrugged and moved over to let Ted sit next to him.
“So, what did you guys do this morning?” Scott asked as he passed out the menus.
The dam broke, and for the next few minutes, Scott listened as the boys told him all about their paintings. Timothy bragged about Charles’s wolf. Charles admitted Timothy’s flower was pretty nice.
Scott and Ted exchanged looks and raised eyebrows at his kind words, perhaps the first they’d ever heard him speak to his brother, and from Timmy’s expression, maybe the first he’d heard.
“So all that painting must have worked up an appetite. What do you guys want? I’m getting the meatloaf and mashed potatoes.” Scott closed his menu and put it down.
“Can I have the mac ’n’ cheese?” Timothy pointed to a picture on the kids’ menu.
“Sure.” Ted turned to Charles. “How about you?”
“I want the hamburger and fries.”
Ted grimaced. “I was going to fix that for dinner. Would you want to pick something else?”
Charles scrunched up his face, and Ted added, “It doesn’t have to be off the kids’ menu.”
The boy relaxed. “Okay.” He scanned it again. “What are you getting?”
Ted pointed. “Chicken and dumplings. I love them but can’t make them.”
“I love those!” Charles closed the menu. “I’ll have that too.”
Meals ordered, with the boys getting milk, and Ted and Scott having coffee, the conversation turned to the afternoon activities.
“Ted said we can finish our paintings.” Timothy swung his legs back and forth. “I’m going to paint more flowers, like a garden.”
“Mine’s almost done,” Charles added. “I just have to add some more fur. And I want to make the background stormy. Like with lightning, you know.”
Scott nodded. “That’d be cool.”
Their food arrived. Everyone dove into their meals, and chewing was the only sound. Ted glanced at Scott every now and then, and Scott winked back. But he was winking at the boys also. Making all of them feel special.
Ted loved his mate. He glanced over to the little boy at Scott’s side and started as his heart did a sharp bump against his chest. Oh, merde. He knew that feeling, and he wasn’t ready for it. Not yet. Too soon.
If he were smart, he’d put up a wall and damn soon. Before…
Timothy looked up at him, smiling, happy. The sadness in his blue eyes fading. Ted knew the kid hadn’t forgotten his mom and dad, but for this moment in time, he hadn’t remembered.
Small steps.
Ted hoped whoever got these boys would try damn hard to keep Timothy’s memories happy and give Charles the chance he needed to overcome his father’s legacy. Was there anyone in their pack who could do that better than he and Scott?
Part of him shouted No!
Part of him knew the answer was yes, probably.
And all of his heart hurt.
Chapter Seventeen
Scott leaned in the doorway of Mike’s office at the fire station. He knocked, and his best friend looked up, smiled, and motioned him to a chair.
“What brings the sheriff here? Got a warrant for my arrest?” Mike grinned.
“Nope. Personal. Got a minute or two?” Scott sat.
“Well, if it’s about sex, I have no idea what you boys do or how you do it.” Mike made a gagging sound as he poked his finger down his throat.
“Merde. Will you ever grow up?” Scott tossed a pen across the desk at Mike. “No, it’s about helping Charles through his change.”
Mike leaned back. “Hell. I forgot about that. He’s about that age, huh?”
Scott nodded. “And since you’ve been through it with your son, I figured you could pass along a few tips.”
Mike laughed. “Aiiieeee! Taking Wyatt’s boy through his first shift? Better you than me.”
“Well, better me than Wyatt.” Scott snorted.
“You said it, not me. But I hear you, boss.” Mike sat forward. “Look, we did the change together. You remember.”
“Yeah. But we were on the wrong end to help me now. I need some advice.”
Mike nodded. “Okay, I’ll take pity on you. So just do the opposite of what our dads did.”
Scott laughed. “I need real advice.”
Mike grew serious. “First, go somewhere safe. Someplace he can’t escape from but won’t feel trapped either. Explain it to him first. How it’s going to feel. Don’t sugarcoat it. Tell him the truth about the pain. Don’t let there be any surprises, not like we had.” Mike looked into Scott’s eyes, and Scott nodded. Not a favorite memory, for sure.
Mike went on. “Our dads… Well, let’s just say they weren’t the touchy-feely type. They were the ‘throw them in the lake and if they survive, then they can swim’ type.”
“It sucked. I don’t want that for Charles.” Scott shook his head.
“I didn’t want that for my boy either. It’s a different world, thank God. We don’t have to beat our kids.” Mike swore. “Wyatt never learned that, I think.”
“I know it.”
“Merde.”
Scott exhaled. “So, safe place and talk first. Then?”
“Well, I showed him a few of my shifts, talking him through them, so he could see, in the light, what it really looked like. My idea was to take the scary out of it.”
“Good idea.” Scott nodded. “Shift in the light.”
“And the first time, you stay human. Don’t shift in case he has problems. You can talk him through it before he panics. Nothing worse than a terrified pup.”
“Got it. Safe place. Talk. Shift. Talk more.”
Mike chuckled. “You’ll be fine, boss. When are you thinking about doing this?”
“Well, I want to do it before someone takes the boys. As alpha, it should be me.” Scott rose from the chair and headed to the door.
“Sure.” Mike winked. He cleared his throat and stood. “So, you think someone in the pack will step forward soon?”
Scott turned back and shrugged. “Maybe.”
“That don’t sound like ‘sure’ or ‘I hope so.’ Mike snorted. “Those kids getting under your skin?”
Scott growled. “Maybe.”
Mike’s laughter chased Scott down the hall to the exit.
Under his skin.
Yeah. Maybe.
Scott didn’t think anything could be worse than the funeral for Wyatt and Marie. Marie’s friends planned it all out; all Scott and Ted had to do was get the boys to it and deal with the aftermath.
They scheduled it for the weekend after the funeral home received the bodies. It was a closed-casket ceremony, and Scott couldn’t have been more grateful. Dragging the boys into the church had been bad enough—the thought of dragging them, crying and sobbing, to the caskets to look at their dead parents?
Who thought of that shit, anyway?
Right then and there, Scott decided he’d have a cremation and a celebration. None of this dark, dreary, and sad stuff. The priest spoke on Wyatt’s behalf, as did Mike, who talked about Wyatt’s job as a firefighter. Ginnie spoke about Marie’s love of her children.
Both boys had sat be
tween Scott and Ted, Charles upright and rigid, expression frozen, and Timmy slumped against Ted, his little hand clutching the pocket of Ted’s dark suit. They’d had to buy new clothes for the boys, dark slacks and white shirts, and that had been a challenge. They’d never gone to a department store and had to deal with trying on clothes with two kids who didn’t want to get dressed up for their parents’ funeral.
God, the whole thing sucked. Just sucked.
Charles trying to be brave and the little man. Reminded Scott of his own father’s funeral. He sat a little closer to Charles, but the boy didn’t push him away.
Timothy, just on the edge of falling apart, clinging for life to Ted.
Father Francis had at least kept the ceremony brief. There was no graveside ceremony, thanks to Ginnie and the ladies’ planning. The kids would be spared seeing the double coffins lowered into the ground.
Once it was done, they were off to the church hall for a brief reception with deviled eggs, small ham-and-mayonnaise triangle-shaped sandwiches on white bread, and a bowl of orange sherbet punch.
The boys sat on chairs against the wall with Ted guarding them.
Scott mingled and ran interference in front of them, counting the minutes until he called it quits and got the boys out of there and back home.
Once they got home, the boys went to their room and changed into pajamas, and even though it was only four o’clock in the afternoon, they snuggled on the couch and watched a movie. Ted fixed grilled cheese sandwiches, which the boys nibbled at, and then they watched another movie until both boys fell asleep.
Scott picked up Charles, who wrapped an arm around his neck and buried his face in Scott’s shoulder. Ted carried Timmy, and they tucked the boys into bed.
Then, exhausted, Scott and Ted went to their own bed but left the door open, in case the boys needed them during the night.
It took a while, but they eventually fell asleep, with Scott spooning his mate with perhaps too tight a hold.
A week or so later, they’d just sat down to dinner when Ginnie arrived. Ted answered the door and let her in.
The boys looked up from the table, and Ted could see they were puzzled. So was he. She had news, that much was certain, but was it good or bad?