by Chant, Zoe
Shaun gave a short, gruff laugh. “I’m... really grateful for everything,” he said.
Andrea bit her lip, confused by the dismissal in his voice, and searched his face for the invitation she was expecting.
She found only distance and doubt, and when she reached out in an automatic attempt to comfort him, he didn’t sway towards her like he did on other nights.
She let her hand drop back to her side.
“I... should get home,” she offered, hoping he would have a better suggestion.
“Thanks again,” was all he said.
So she went home... and wondered why the place felt less like home than ever.
Chapter 23
“He’s five, Dad.”
At the other end of the phone, there was thoughtful silence, then concession. “That’s early for shifting,” Shaun’s father agreed.
“I’m not sure what to make of it,” Shaun said, hoping he didn’t sound as despairing as he felt. “Is this my fault? Is it too much stress?”
“Son, you always have tried to shoulder more than your share of the blame for things. That’s why you end up in these situations.”
Shaun tried to decide if that was a compliment framed as a criticism, or a criticism framed as a compliment.
There was another pause. “You said he was a lion cub?” Shaun recognized the sly, pleased tone in his father’s voice.
Shaun sighed. “Yeah, Dad. A lion cub. Like you.”
Damien Powell had always been disappointed that Shaun had taken after his mother and grown up to be a tiger shifter. Looking back on his childhood, the lion-themed nursery and the lion toys he’d received for holiday gifts until puberty seemed to lack subtlety.
“And he’s never shifted before?”
“I guess not. It wasn’t like Harriette really kept me updated on him, but I think this was the sort of thing she would bring up.”
“Never thought much of that woman,” Damien said candidly.
Add that to the list of ways he’d disappointed his father.
“I called to find out if anyone in our family had ever shifted that early.”
“It’s earlier than I’ve ever heard of,” Damien said dismissively. “Most shifters figure out what they are at puberty, like you did, and like your sister did.”
“Should I be worried?”
“I wouldn’t be,” Damien said, with the same confidence that had carried him through two marriages and shot him to the top of the engineering management industry. “It’s only happened twice, it sounds like. Under pretty extenuating circumstances, both times.”
Shaun clung to that hope. “You don’t think it will happen again?”
“I’d avoid letting him get that tired in public, but you’re probably okay.”
“Dad...” Shaun’s courage failed him.
“Spit it out, Son.”
Shaun closed his eyes. “Was Mom your mate? Or Linda, when you remarried?”
“My what?”
“Your mate.”
On the other end of the line, Shaun could hear his father lean back and give a roar of laughter.
Then Damien sobered.
“Wait, you’re serious?”
“Very serious,” Shaun said, thinking of the way Andrea felt like something he’d lost and never realized was missing.
“You don’t think that Harriette was your mate, do you Son?” There was something like horror in his father’s voice. “Is she giving you some destiny song and dance to try to get back together with you?”
Shaun’s knee-jerk reaction was disgust and revulsion. Trying to equate any part of the bond he had with Andrea to his relationship with Harriette felt wrong at a bone-deep level.
“No. Hell, no.” Shaun was not sure he had ever sworn in front of his father before. “Not for a moment.”
“Good,” his father said firmly. “I hope you see that gold-digger for the shallow bi—”
“Dad!” Shaun reprimanded. “I won’t speak ill of Trevor’s mother.”
Damien was silent.
Shaun could not quite keep himself from adding, “Even when I’m thinking it really loudly.”
Another roar of laughter followed.
Shaun found himself wondering if this was the first time he had made his father laugh twice in one phone call. He felt like this whole conversation ought to come with some sort of adulting award.
“So if it’s not Harriette making you wonder about mate nonsense, who is it?” Shaun’s father finally asked.
“No one,” Shaun said, regretting his impulse to bring it up. “I haven’t got time for a relationship.”
He remembered the words on his divorce court papers, condemning him as too busy for the demands of parenthood or marriage.
As if he had sensed the direction of Shaun’s thoughts, Damien asked, “How’s the business going?”
Shaun had been grateful to find that most of what he needed to do could be done from Green Valley. But the longer he stayed, the more he found himself delegating. He couldn’t be at a meeting in person, so it made more sense to have one of his managers in control of that client’s paperwork, until he was only managing a handful of low-pressure clients himself.
And he didn’t miss it.
He thought that he’d loved his business because he used it to escape the misery of his marriage, and later it was the only thing of interest in his rattlingly empty life. But he hadn’t done more than glance over his portfolios and he was weeks behind on his research reading.
“That bad?” Damien asked dryly as he realized that he’d been silent too long.
“No... it’s just. I’m thinking about stepping down.”
“That bad?” His father would assume the worst.
“No,” Shaun snapped. “The business is doing fine. And it’s doing fine without much of me. I’m not hurting for money, and it might be nice to do something else for a while.”
Not hurting for money was an understatement. Lucky markets timed to a period of his life when he was particularly aggressive about the business meant that he looked brilliant in ledgers. He might only have millions to his father’s billions, but by Green Valley standards, he could live like a king for a century and still leave a respectable trust to ensure that his son was never a pauper.
“Something else like...?”
“Green Valley doesn’t have a bakery,” Shaun said impulsively.
He didn’t think that the sound his father made qualified as a third laugh; it was too choked and skeptical.
“You’d seriously stay in that ridiculous, cow-filled country town and be a baker?”
Shaun cursed himself silently. He could have just said that he wanted to spend more time with Trevor. But at least the idea of his son doing something as pedestrian as opening a bakery was distracting his father from the question about mates.
“It was great to catch up with you, Dad,” he said caustically. “Thanks for the advice. I’ve got to go pick Trevor up from preschool pretty soon here. We’ll talk again soon.”
“Wait!”
Shaun paused in the act of taking his cellphone from his ear. “Yes?” he finally said.
There was a moment of silence on the line. “I haven’t seen Trevor since he was a baby. Do you think he’d appreciate a visit with his grandfather?”
Shaun could not help the slow smile that crept over his face. He didn’t even care if this new interest in Trevor was because he had turned out to be a lion shifter. “Yeah, Dad. I think he’d like that.”
Damien cleared his throat. “We’ll have to arrange something then,” he said formally. There was another moment of silence, and he reluctantly added, “And you’ve always been a very, ah, adequate baker. Your cinnamon rolls would be a solid seller. I could put you in touch with some people I know in the food sales industry.”
The silence this time was shock on Shaun’s part. It was as unqualified a compliment as he’d ever gotten from his father.
“It’s still just an idea,” he felt oblig
ated to say. “I haven’t decided what I’m doing yet.”
“Sure,” Damien said gruffly. “Go pick up that boy of yours, then.”
Shaun hung up in befuddlement.
That conversation had not gone anything like he had expected it to.
Chapter 24
“Can I get you a refill?” Andrea offered.
She ignored the coughing fit that Devon had two tables down.
“I’d love one.” Shaun was startled into looking up at her, and for one brief moment, Andrea accidentally met his gaze.
“Can I have more chocolate milk?” Trevor asked eagerly, interrupting what would have become entirely too long a stare.
Shaun’s silvery eyes turned to his son. “I think you should wait and eat your food,” he said reluctantly. “You don’t want to fill up on that.”
He glanced at Andrea, this time for support, and Andrea gave a subtle nod of encouragement.
He’s working so hard to be a good dad, she reminded herself. Even if she wanted more, she couldn’t argue with Shaun’s reasons for keeping their relationship strictly physical. There was no romance, no hand-holding, no flirting, no professions of love. They didn’t share anything personal, and Andrea never left anything at his house or stayed the night.
And that ought to be enough, Andrea told herself firmly, moving on to offer a refill to Devon’s iced tea as well, ignoring his smirk.
Her hawk still mournfully insisted that there ought to be more, that they were mates and should be sharing one nest.
Andrea hated to admit how much she wanted the same thing, and how much she still hoped there might be more someday.
“Evening, Tawny,” Andrea said, jerking her attention away from her juvenile longing.
Tawny Summer was half of the local post office, and had been delivering mail to all of Green Valley as long as Andrea could remember. Andrea led her to one of the booths. “Get you something to drink?”
She had to ask again because she was watching Shaun, past Tawny, as he said something that made Trevor laugh so hard that the little boy nearly fell out of his chair.
She delivered the refills without making eye contact with Shaun or Devon, and startled when Tawny asked her quietly, “What’s wrong, Andrea?” as Andrea was taking her food order.
“Wrong?” Andrea said brightly. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything is just... fine. Perfect. Just... thinking over a story or two. Being my usual air-headed self, I guess.” She gave a trill of laughter that sounded false to her own ears and to her sulking hawk.
She escaped to the kitchen, where Old George gave her a knowing look and prompted her for the food orders she had taken and forgotten in her apron pocket.
Trevor bolted down his dinner for the promise of dessert, and Andrea had to keep herself from stepping in and reminding him to chew.
It was easier to watch Trevor than it was to watch Shaun. She wasn’t sure how a man could be sexy eating a diner burger, but she suspected that Shaun would be sexy blowing his nose. It was surprisingly intimate to watch him eat, in much the same way that is was weirdly hot teaching him about wiring and showing him where the trash pickup corner for their block was.
She brought them the pie — apple for Shaun and pumpkin for Trevor — and refused to linger, choosing instead to laugh with Tawny about her magazine delivery woes and chat with Stanley about how her book (wasn’t) going.
Other than topping off their water glasses and asking with false cheerfulness how their meal was, she avoided Shaun’s table until they had left, Trevor chattering cheerfully about his favorite cartoon characters as if they were close personal friends.
See? she told her hawk. Trevor was blooming under his father’s affection. Shaun was right to keep a relationship with her from interfering with that.
I see wasted opportunity, her hawk snipped.
We’ll go flying tonight, Andrea promised. Everything was better when they had a chance to spread their wings and feel the wind in their feathers.
She gathered up the bill and money from Shaun’s table and took it to the register. She did the math twice and stared at the tip he’d left in dismay. $30 for a meal that cost less than that was a ridiculous tip. It was the kind of tip you left when you were trying to make up for something.
Like when you were feeling guilty for using someone.
There was a sour taste in the back of her mouth as Andrea cleared the other tables and distantly said goodbye to the regulars.
It’s just a thing, she reminded herself, with increasing bitterness. You knew that from the start.
When the last chairs had been put on the tables and she had mopped the floors, Andrea gave the cat one last pat, locked the front door and slipped out the back. There weren’t many places in Green Valley that weren’t open to prying eyes, but Gran’s Grits had a private back alley with a tall fence extending around the dumpster.
Andrea took the trash bags from the diner to the dumpster, locking the door behind her, and looked around cautiously. It was nearly sunset; the sky was starting to turn golden and red. Andrea could hear distant sounds of kids shouting to each other. Someone was taking the last moments of daylight to mow a lawn. A screen door banged and a dog started barking several blocks away.
Andrea slipped carefully out of her shoes and pulled her uniform off over her head. She folded it neatly around her purse and tucked everything under the back step, carefully out of sight.
The she spread her arms and closed her eyes and gave a little hop into the air. Her hawk gave a keen of delight, and then they were flying swiftly to the top of the fence around the dumpster as a small red-tailed hawk. She paused there to surveil again, drinking in the sharper avian sight.
There was no one around, and none of the sounds nearby changed, so she spread her wings and soared up into the evening sky, leaving everything behind for a little while.
Chapter 25
Shaun left the diner feeling frustrated and confused.
He’d thought it would be a good idea to see Andrea at work, to prove that they could be friends and coexist in this tiny town.
Trying not to watch her too obviously, and being careful not to meet her amazing eyes for too long, had proven to be more effort than he’d anticipated, and he could see that she was finding it as difficult as he was. They’d figured out a perfect rhythm to the preschool drop off and pick up — a convincing mix of friendly and professional in front of other people. Trevor was innocently oblivious to any additional tension, and if Miss Patricia’s glance was a little amused and knowing, neither Shaun nor Andrea gave it any weight.
But the diner had been... different.
Shaun thought it was just the surprise of seeing him, but Andrea didn’t shed the tension that settled over her as the visit continued, and he could barely keep his eyes off of her. He was badly tempted to pull her into his lap and kiss her. He wanted to flirt with her, and tease her the way they did when they were alone together.
Knowing that he couldn’t was galling, and he found himself being short with Trevor’s youthful antics and questionable table manners.
His conversations with Andrea had gotten shorter and more uncomfortable as the meal progressed, until he was keenly aware that it probably appeared to an outsider as if they were having some kind of falling out.
“Daddy?”
Shaun shook himself back to the now, and slowed down as he realized that he was trying to walk at a regular, grown-up pace with Trevor’s hand in his own. It was only a few short blocks between Gran’s Grits and their house; it had seemed foolish to drive.
“What is it, kiddo?”
Trevor seemed oddly subdued. Had Shaun been too tough on him about elbows on the table and sitting still?
“I don’t think I like Granite’s Grids.”
“What don’t you like about it?” Shaun had to ask, with the tiniest chuckle for how he had mangled the name.
“Miss Andrea seemed weird,” Trevor said suspiciously.
Shaun had hoped their tensi
on wouldn’t be obvious to the boy. “She seemed fine to me,” Shaun lied.
“I didn’t like it,” Trevor insisted stubbornly.
They walked in silence for a moment.
“Are we moving away forever?”
Shaun’s heart gave a little hiccup. “Yeah, we’re moving back to Minneapolis when preschool is over,” he said. He had nursed the idea of a bakery in Green Valley for nearly a week, loving the idea the more he thought about it. He’d even gone as far as investigating the available rentals in the tiny town. But he hadn’t mentioned the concept to anyone outside of his father, and while he didn’t talk about leaving at the end of the semester, he’d never mentioned that they might not.
“Why?” Trevor’s whine was quiet and intense.
Because of the miserable longing he had caught in Andrea’s eyes. Because of the way he couldn’t stop wanting her. Because of the impossible choice he had to make between being the father that Trevor deserved and the mate he wanted to be for Andrea.
Because maybe the distance could make him crave her less.
“My work is in Minneapolis,” Shaun lied for a second time in that conversation. “And they have great schools there. You’re going to Kindergarten next year, you know.”
Trevor was quiet for a moment, then began to whine. “My legs are tired. Will you carry me?”
Shaun stopped and bent to gather the slight boy into his arms. Trevor slipped arms around Shaun’s neck.
“I love you, Daddy,” he mumbled into Shaun’s collar.
Shaun squeezed him tight, as if it would keep his chest from hurting. “I love you too, slugger.”
The little boy fell asleep on their walk home, and Shaun could only cradle him helplessly and wonder how something so small and fragile feeling could mean so much and cause so much pain and joy all at once.
Chapter 26
Andrea flew like a shot, straining her wings to go as high as she could, and then tumbled acrobatically back down among the puffy, sunset-stained clouds. Green Valley was just a series of lines and squares below her, familiar rooftops fading into the greater patchwork of the fields around it and the wild forests that wrinkled over the hills.
