Secret Daddy

by Liam Kingsley

  “Happy birthday, old man!” I said to the guy in the mirror before I fell backward onto my bed. Something sharp dug into my neck and I fished around to grab it. It was the reminder of my acceptance to the gaming convention.

  I remembered her encouragement when we’d discussed it again at my party. You should go! You could meet someone…

  I also remembered how I’d just met someone on the run, and I wasn’t interested in him.

  You could meet someone special…

  “Yeah, I could meet nerds,” I grumbled, then let out a frustrated sigh and admitted out loud what was impossible to hide. “I am a nerd. I am. I’m a king nerd. I made a video game, what’s nerdier than that?”

  I hauled myself up off the bed with the intention of getting some water, but I ended up at my computer. With another look at the reminder, I sighed, and before I knew it I was e-mailing the organizers and acknowledging the reminder, telling them I’d be there. I was going to the stupid gaming convention.

  I poured myself another drink to celebrate, and then decided to spend some time indulging in my favorite hobby: playing RuneMaze, the game I’d developed, and helping kids on the live online version of it while I listened to my favorite guilty pleasure—a love song dedication radio show. I couldn’t get enough of those romantic songs, and the host’s voice was to die for. I felt like I melted into my chair whenever I listened to him croon on about pop ballads…

  When I logged into the game, I laughed to myself. I loved the names that kids came up with for their avatars in the game. FangHunter was my favorite, though. I always ended up helping that kid with some real tricky puzzles. He was there that night and we went hard on some of the more challenging levels.

  By the time I went to bed, I felt good again. I even felt young! I was King Nerd and I was celebrating me and all I had come to be. Successful, rich…and alone.

  2

  Kyle

  My ten-year-old son sat on the edge of his bed as he stared at his television screen and danced his fingers over the buttons of his gaming controller.

  “Brock Shannon! Get dressed! Now!” I stood in the doorway of his room, holding his school backpack in one hand and a packed lunch in the other. I’d been yelling at him all morning, and he’d ignored me just as long.

  “I just need to get through this challenge, Dad,” he said in a no-nonsense voice as he continued staring at the screen with total focus.

  “How about you get through the challenge of getting to school on time,” I demanded.

  “Just one second.”

  “Brock. You need to get ready for school right now. I’m not going to tell you again. This is the third morning this week. If you give me any more resistance, you’re not going to the gaming convention this weekend.”

  “Dad…” he said, but didn’t finish what he was saying, just sat up and stared right at the screen.

  “Brock!” I had enough, and made a move to switch off the screen.

  My son suddenly bared his teeth at me and let out a blood-curdling growl. It wasn’t the first time, but it scared me. For the last two years his attitude had been becoming more aggressive. From what I knew about his other…nature, it made sense. But it still didn’t make it easy. And me? A human omega single dad? Well, heck. I had no idea what to do with a prepubescent alpha wolf shifter.

  All I could do was put on a brave face and stay consistent. That’s what all the parenting forums said to do. Just stay consistent. Give them a sense of safety.

  “Don’t you growl at me, you little monster,” I grumbled, chucking Brock’s backpack at him. He dropped his controller to catch it midair, and then let out a stroppy sigh.

  “Get dressed now or we’re not going to the gaming convention on Saturday. I mean it,” I warned.

  “Fine!” He finally gave in and got dressed. “I. Don’t. Want. To. Go,” he said with every reluctant, heavy step he took down the stairs.

  “Good morning, Brocky!” my sister Britt called from the kitchen where she served up breakfast on the kitchen counter every day.

  “There’s nothing good about it.” Brock hauled his heavy bag onto his back.

  “Where’d you get that attitude? The grumpy boy store?” Kennedy, Britt’s girlfriend, asked through a mouthful of bagel.

  “Good one…not.” Brock shook his head, but still gave Kennedy a big good morning hug. The two of them had a special bond. Namely, they both played video games.

  I grabbed a cream cheese bagel off the bench for Brock to eat on the way to school, and Britt balanced another one on top of it.

  “You need breakfast too,” Britt said to me.

  “Are you off this morning? Meet me for a coffee and records?” I asked.

  Britt nodded and smiled. She was my younger sister, but she was also my best friend, and some time with her at the record store was exactly what I needed after a stressful morning. Which seemed to be most mornings, these days…

  “Alright, Brocky. Let’s hit the long and winding road,” I sang, grabbing my keys.

  “But, Dad. I’m being bullied at school. Why do you want me to go to school and get bullied all day long?” he asked in an attempt to negotiate with my while clinging to Kennedy’s coat.

  “Bullied, huh? You’re too tough to be bullied,” Kennedy said as she ruffled his hair. But she shot me a curious look as if to ask is this for real?

  “It’s a free world, Brock. You can stay home if you really want to, but there’ll be no gaming convention for you on the weekend.” I shrugged because if he wanted to negotiate, he had to understand the conditions.

  “That’s not a free choice! This is still an autocracy!”

  Britt let out an impressed laugh. “Where’d you learn a word like that?”

  “School,” I said, guessing. I opened the door and motioned for my son to haul ass out of it.

  “You wish. I learned it from RuneMaze, actually,” he said as he stomped past with his nose in the air.

  After I dropped off my bratty boy at school, I made a beeline for the June Cafe, a funky little record store that had added an espresso bar and a few couches to keep business afloat when people stopped listening to CDs and started streaming music. It had worked. In a small town like Timberwood Cove, people flocked to anything new that had a cosmopolitan flavor, like a cool record store cafe. Or a stupid gaming convention.

  “I am not looking forward to Saturday,” I said as Britt flicked through the latest pop releases on vinyl.

  “Well, Kennedy is definitely excited about it,” she said. “She’s trying to talk me into cosplaying as some Rune princesses or whatever with her.”

  “Oh god, is it fancy dress?” I shook my head and groaned.

  “Well, here’s a hot tip I learned just yesterday—don’t call it fancy dress or the cosplayers get really huffy.”

  I laughed and wrapped one arm around her shoulder.

  “But no, don’t panic. Brock told Kennedy that he doesn’t want to cosplay, so that’s good.” Britt’s started flipping the records a little slower.

  “Good?” I asked as I frowned.

  “Mhm…” she said flippantly as she released herself from my grip and wandered over to the heavy metal section. This was a classic avoidant Britt-move. She knew I was shopping for records and inspiration for my nightly love song dedication show on the local radio, so when she wanted to lose me, she’d head for genres that were as far from conventional romantic ballads as it could get. Too bad for her, I knew her games. I chased her and looped my arm through hers, pulling her close.

  “Please explain why it isn’t good that Brock doesn’t want to dress up for this convention.”

  “Cosplay,” she said, correcting me again.

  “Britt…” I said with the same voice of warning I’d used all morning with Brock.

  “Fine.” She sighed in defeat. “Brock said he didn’t want to cosplay because… Well, I quote… ‘I’m already a freak.’”

  Freak? Fuck. Though my heart felt like it was going to break,
I didn’t want to show how much Brock’s words hurt. “He’s become so dramatic lately. I think it’s the games. Maybe he needs a week off.”

  “Oh yeah, great idea.” Britt shook her head. “The video games are the only reason he’s not an anxious mess. Remember last time he went a weekend without playing?”

  I did. He was so full of energy he’d driven us crazy, then he’d gone for a run in the woods, disappeared for five hours, drove me even more crazy with worry, then stumbled back inside covered in dirt and scratches and just as much as energy as before he’d left. Maybe a whole week of that wasn’t such a good idea.

  “What if he really is being bullied?” Britt asked as she chewed her nails.

  I took a sip of my coffee and shook my head. “Have you seen him? He’s really big for his age. There’s no way anyone is beating him up.”

  “It could be emotional bullying.” She raised her eyebrows as if saying I should have thought of that.

  “Then he’d beat them up, right?” I asked, becoming a little unsure.

  Britt just grimaced at me.

  “God, I don’t know, Britt,” I admitted with heavy sigh. “This single parenting shit is heavy. I thought it was going to get easier as he got older. But fathering an alpha boy alone is way harder than I thought.”

  “Hey, you’re not alone in this,” she said, reminding me that both she and Kennedy were always there to help.

  “No, I know. You and Kennedy are honestly my lifeline. And Brock’s. Imagine how wild he’d be if we didn’t live with you two. I just meant…”

  “Alone without his alpha dad to help you?”

  “Right.” I nodded and swallowed heavily as a wad of shame threatened to well up in my throat. It was my own fault I was alone in parenting Brock, and always had been. He was the product of a one-night stand. An incredible, unforgettable one-night stand… Even though I’d been pretty drunk when it happened.

  Britt bundled up her long auburn hair and tied it on top of her head in a high bun, which meant she was about to lay down some hard truths on me. I put both hands on my warm coffee cup and brought it up to my chest.

  “You’ve done everything you can to find Brock’s other dad. You hired that investigator. There was nothing else you could do. You’re a great dad. Brock just needs…time or something.”

  “You’re right. I did everything…”

  There was that gnawing in my stomach again. The truth was…I hadn’t. Yeah, I’d hired an investigator. But I hadn’t given him all I knew about Brock’s dad because who would believe me, except my friend Trevor…

  Nearly eleven years earlier, my best friend Trevor had informed me I hadn’t hooked up with a human, but with a wolf. A wolf…shifter. Trevor was an avid believer of cryptids, obsessed with the idea there were wolf shifters living in the woods that surrounded Timberwood Cove.

  I recalled the conversation I had with him at the time:

  “And you think they’d be drinking at the Cove Brewery? Waiting to hook to up with unsuspecting humans like me?”

  “Well how the hell else do you explain the knot then?” he’d asked with pursed lips. The knot was why I’d come to him in the first place after the one-night stand, even before I’d realized I was pregnant.

  “I don’t know, Trevor. I don’t know if it was a knot, I don’t even know if there was even a swelling or if I imagined it. I was so fucking wasted.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “See what?”

  “If a wolf shifter knots a human in heat, you best believe that human is getting pregnant”—he cleared his throat—“and having a wolf shifter baby.”

  I’d stared at him blankly. “Don’t joke.”

  “No word of a lie,” he said. “It’s a well-known fact.”

  “You’re full of shit,” I’d replied. Nine months later, I’d given birth to Brock. The moment I saw his perfect little face I’d dismissed Trevor’s wolf shifter bullshit. My son looked as human as any other baby. But not long after he’d shown some characteristics that were distinctly not human, and I’d instantly known my son was…different. Just like Trevor said. Over the following years he’d developed, not only an alpha attitude, but signs of restlessness I attributed to his inner wolf, until without warning, he’d shifted into this beautiful little wolf pup, right there in the middle of our living room. To be honest, it had scared the crap out of everyone, and because of that he’d never done it again, except in his room. I’d told him it was okay for him to shift in front of us if he wanted to, but he’d refused, claiming he didn’t want to scare anyone again. I’d tried to tell him he wouldn’t, but I hadn’t been able to persuade him. It worried me that I wasn’t able to reach him the way an alpha father would, and I knew I was going to have some serious trouble trying to raise a wolf shifter without any practical help from anyone who knew how to handle one of his kind.

  “Anyway,” Britt said now. “We need to help Brock with his self-esteem. There’s no reason for him to think he’s a freak.”

  “Um, wolf shifter,” I whispered before gulping down some more coffee.

  “That doesn’t make him a freak, Kyle, and you certainly shouldn’t make him think he’s one. And he’s obviously not the only shifter because how else was he conceived?”

  “I know, I don’t. I love him to bits. I’ve tried to help him with his anxiety over his nature, but he needs a shifter’s influence to help him understand who he is, but I can’t find one.” I didn’t even know how to start looking.

  Britt sighed. “Maybe one day you’ll run into one.”

  “And how would I know? I didn’t know Brock’s father was a shifter. How the fuck does anyone ever tell?”

  Britt smirked. “I think you’d know when you were fucking,” she said, unable to hide her grin.

  I nudged her none too gently. “Shut up, that’s gross,” I said before striding back to the other side of the store to buy a vinyl for tonight’s show.

  “And that track was, of course, Love Story by our girl Taylor Swift, going out tonight from my dear friend Trevor to…” I chuckled as I read the dedication. “From Trevor, to Trevor. Well good for you, my friend—a beautiful example of self love.”

  My producer nodded to me from the control room, and I glanced at the clock.

  “And it’s time for me to call it a night, folks. You’ve been listening to the Nightlight Love Lounge, and I’m your host, Kyle Shannon, signing off until tomorrow. May the love bug bite you tonight. Bye now,” I crooned, and then I hit play on the next record.

  “Good show, Kyle,” the producer said as I hurried into the control room and grabbed my jacket. I smiled gratefully as he spun around in his chair and gave me a thumbs up.

  “You on tomorrow?” I asked, wriggling into my jacket, and then throwing my messenger bag on over the top, which was overflowing with the records I’d brought in.

  “Sure am. See you then,” he said, turning back to the desk.

  “Yep, and every weeknight until I die.” I’d never missed a show in six years of doing radio.

  I drove home with the windows down, taking in a deep breath and reveling in the sharp, October air. It was after midnight and the moon shone big and bright in the clear sky, just a little less than full. I normally went straight home, but tonight I decided to stop at the beach to take a moment to myself. I sat down on the steps from the boardwalk, pulled my jacket tighter, and took in a deep breath of the salty air. The wind blew off the water and prickled my skin with how cold it was, but I loved it. I felt the tension melt away from my shoulders and I was more in my body than I had been for days.

  After a few minutes though, I knew I had to go home. It was late, and I had to get Brock ready for school tomorrow. When I got home, however, I found Britt chewing her nails.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked quickly as I closed the kitchen door behind me.

  “Brock’s still awake,” she replied. “He’s fine, he’s just… He won’t stop playing video games.”
r />   “Shit.” I looked at the clock and saw it was nearly one o’clock.

  “I’m sorry!” she called as I hurried up the stairs.

  Brock was sitting on his bed, hunched over in the dark, lit by the screen. I stood in the doorway and watched as a smile burst across his face, but he hadn’t noticed me. I stayed silent as he chatted into his headset about strategy with strangers, laughed at jokes I couldn’t hear, and looked the most relaxed I’d seen him in a long time.

  I knocked gently on the doorframe and he looked up. He quickly pulled his headset off and gave me a bashful grin.

  “Bedtime, Brocky,” I said, coming into the room.

  “I know.” He sighed before putting down the controller and switching off the screen.

  “You have a good day at school?” I asked as he scrambled into bed. I pulled the covers up and tucked him in. I normally would have already had this conversation with Brock, but today I had to go into the station much earlier than usual, so Britt had picked him up from school.

  “No,” he mumbled, looking up at the ceiling.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “It was really hard to…stop.” He swallowed hard, and I saw the beginning of tears in his eyes.

  “Your wolf?”

  “Yeah,” he said in a small voice.

  I paused for a moment, then put my hand gently on his chest.

  “I understand, Brock,” I said quietly, rubbing his chest soothingly.

  He bit his lip and looked up at me with wide, worried eyes. “You don’t understand. It wants to come out all the time and it’s getting difficult to stop it.”

  I swallowed nervously and nodded. I knew it was normally more difficult for Brock on a full moon, and I remembered the big silver moon I’d seen on my drive home, and my heart ached, knowing he must have been struggling more than usual. I kind of understood why he didn’t want to go to school now, but he also needed to learn self-control, and if there was one thing Brock knew about being a wolf shifter, it was that he could tell nobody else.