by Shea Balik
Another giggle, this time with Tess propping up on his chest as she smiled at him. Then her arm lifted up to the sky and she pointed at two bears that were roaring their outrage as their paws peddled in the air as if trying to find a way down. “Eirik and Bjorn wouldn’t hurt me, but you probably should let them down.”
Everything within Wylie stilled at her words. His gaze went from the frantic bears back to her. “What?”
This seemed to be his day to be saying that, a lot. Actually, since Fritjof had shown up in his life. Twin bellows of outrage floated down to them, causing Tess to laugh so hard she rolled right off Wylie and onto the ground.
“Put him down,” Kegan yelled as he ran up to them. “Bjorn isn’t a fan of heights.”
It was strange but nothing about any of this made any sense. It was like one of those weird dreams where one scene bled into another without any rhyme or reason.
Then a pair of hands reached down and helped him sit up. Fritjof smiled down at him, not one of those sarcastic smirks, but a real smile that spoke of pride in those perfect lips. “Did I forget to mention that not only were we cursed with immortality, but we also can shift into an animal?”
One of those hands left Wylie’s body for a moment and pointed to the bears freaking out in the sky. “That’s Bjorn and Eirik and I’m sure, by now, they’d appreciate it if you’d set them down on the ground as gently as possible.”
He still didn’t quite understand, but Wylie found himself doing as Fritjof asked anyway. The moment the bear’s paws hit the ground, their forms altered and they turned into humans.
“The good news is, you found your magic,” Fritjof told him.
The words he knew, but try as he might, Wylie couldn’t understand what they meant. Then again, his brain had gone completely offline as he did the one thing any true drama queen did at least once in his life, although usually on purpose – he passed out.
Humiliated, yet excited, Wylie wasn’t sure he was capable of leaving his room when it was time for dinner. He’d fainted. Like, honest to god, eyes rolled up in the back of his head, dropped to the ground, fainted.
Worse, someone, who he was fairly sure had been Fritjof, had carried him to his room and laid him on his bed. No way was he going to survive the teasing he was bound to get.
That was something he could have dealt with. It was the disappointment he was sure he would see in Fritjof’s golden eyes that had him wanting to throw the covers over his head and never come out.
That said, he’d found his druid power. He still wasn’t quite sure what it was or meant. Making someone fly didn’t seem like it was all that great, right? Unsure, he desperately wanted to go downstairs to ask the others what it all meant. But that would mean running into Fritjof, and Wylie wasn’t so sure he was ready for that.
Ever.
That said, Wylie wasn’t some kid who could hide from his problems. He’d survived the Amazon for goodness sake. Dealing with a condescending Fritjof couldn’t be that bad. Right?
But what if it was? Wylie had tried not to be hurt by the man’s constant judgment but he’d failed miserably. Each time he found those disapproving eyes on him, it was like being kicked.
Still, he needed to face the music. As much as he’d like to believe hiding was possible, it wasn’t. He’d have to come out of his room eventually. Might as well get it over with sooner rather than later.
Swinging his legs off the bed, he marched himself to the door. His hand hovered over the doorknob for several long tense moments, but before he could talk himself out of it, Wylie turned it and opened the door.
Fritjof stood there against the wall opposite his door as if waiting for him. A smile he hadn’t expected was there on those firm lips that Wylie found himself staring at whenever Fritjof was around.
“You did it,” he exclaimed. “You found your ability.”
Elation started to fill Wylie at the pride he saw shining from those golden eyes. Then, his brain started to work again and he froze. Narrowing his gaze at Fritjof, the realization of what had happened out there started to dawn on him.
“Did you, Eirik, and Bjorn set that up?” There was a harshness to his voice that Wylie hadn’t even known he was capable of expressing.
Fritjof’s smile fell, giving him the answer he needed.
“You scared my niece to death,” he accused.
But Fritjof was shaking his head. “No. Tess knew. She even agreed so long as she was allowed to pet Bjorn and Eirik. I swear, she was only acting scared to help you.”
But Wylie wasn’t so sure that wasn’t even worse. None of them thought him able to do find his magic on his own. How pathetic was that?
CHAPTER 11
Unsure what he’d done wrong, but between the anger directed at him, then the way Wylie seem to almost deflate and curl in on himself, it was obvious Fritjof had done the unthinkable. At least in Wylie’s eyes.
Yeah, sure, scaring the hell out of Wylie by having it look like two Kodiak bears were going to make Tess a snack might have been overkill, but it worked. Wasn’t that what mattered?
Based on how Wylie’s shoulders were drooped and how his eyes had lost all their sparkle, Fritjof had to assume Wylie didn’t think so. He just wasn’t sure why.
“I’m sorry I scared you with that stunt, but your friends were making it harder for you to find the magic within you. I knew you just needed a little push to get there on your own.”
When Wylie looked up at him, the breath left his body as if he’d been punched in the gut, as he saw the tears threatening to fall in those pretty blue orbs that looked so damn miserable. He would do anything to make it better, but Fritjof was at a loss on how to do that.
“But I didn’t do it on my own, did I?” Wylie croaked out as he visibly struggled to hold back those tears from falling. “Once more, you felt you had to save me.”
“Huh?” More confused than ever, Fritjof wasn’t quite sure what to say, or if he should say anything more. As it was, he was becoming too invested.
No way should he have been standing outside Wylie’s door for the past hour, waiting for him to wake up. Yet, that’s exactly what he’d done. Even when the others passed him in the hallway with a knowing smirk, he hadn’t moved.
“Nothing,” Wylie mumbled and damn if it didn’t look like his shoulders dropped even further.
It was killing him to know he was the reason Wylie seemed so… defeated. But with no clue how to fix it, all Fritjof could do was hope for a miracle.
Like an angel sent to him straight from Odin, Tess came racing up the stairs, her eyes glittering with happiness. “Uncle Wylie, you did it,” she gushed as she leapt at him.
Wylie barely managed to catch her and stay on his feet. Tess wasn’t exactly big, in fact, she was light as a feather, but Wylie was on the short, thin side, making Tess a lot heavier for him.
“I knew you’d figure it out,” Tess said confidently. “Have you tried using the magic again?” Then her eyes went really wide. “Can you fly me back down the stairs?”
The laugh Wylie gave her sounded hollow in Fritjof’s ears, but Tess hadn’t noticed as she started begging him to fly her around.
“Not today, sweetie,” Wylie said, putting her back on her feet. “I’m still wiped out from earlier.”
His refusal didn’t diminish Tess’s excitement in the least. “Maybe once you have dinner, you’ll feel better.” She took his hand and started pulling Wylie to the stairs. “Come on. Oluf sent me up here to tell you dinner’s ready.”
Fritjof wasn’t sure what happened, but suddenly Wylie’s drooping shoulders and rounded back straightened. The haunted look in those pretty eyes diminished, although it didn’t go away. Fritjof could still see it there in their depths. But now, in the forefront was… happiness?
No. That wasn’t the word he’d use. There was a smile on his lush lips, but even that didn’t look… real. That was it. It was as if Wylie had put a mask on to cover his real emotions.
If Fritjof ha
dn’t of seen it slip into place he never would have known Wylie wasn’t the happy man he currently portrayed. Saddened by the thought that Wylie could be that good at covering his true emotions, Fritjof followed them into the kitchen, wondering if anyone else would notice.
They didn’t. Not in the slightest. Everyone congratulated Wylie, who lifted his arms like a boxing champion winning the title. Then he did a dance like a football player entering the end zone for the winning touchdown.
The rest of the night Wylie put on a show that the others ate up without ever once questioning it. They laughed at Wylie’s antics, which, at times, bordered on desperate.
There was one point when Fritjof had thought he was imagining things, but he knew, deep in his bones, he was right. Wylie was so determined that no one would ever know how sad he was, that he was willing to do anything.
He’d hoped after a good night’s sleep, he would be able to talk to Wylie, but Fritjof never got the chance. It was like that determination from the night before that no one see his true feelings had morphed into determination for him to master his newfound magic.
Fritjof could appreciate that, but there was still something off. He couldn’t quite put his finger on how he knew it, but after living as long as he had, Fritjof had learned to trust his instincts.
Wylie was… Fritjof shook his head as he watched Wylie do tricks with his ability. Currently, he was juggling a stick, a ball one of the kids had left outside, and his shoe. Yet, as those watching laughed, Wylie had a huge grin on his face, but even from where Fritjof stood against the side of the house, he could tell it wasn’t real.
That overwhelming sadness, defeat, and misery surrounded Wiley like a cloak that, for some reason, Fritjof seemed to be the only one who could see. That in itself was frustrating because if he was the only one who knew, how was he supposed to ask one of Wylie’s friends for help understanding him?
And he desperately wanted to help. He shouldn’t. Fritjof knew that. Getting any more involved with Wylie was only going to lead to heartache. So why was he still there, watching over Wylie? Why couldn’t he stay away?
The front door opened. Fritjof looked up to find Tess heading outside. She smiled when she saw Wylie’s juggling act that now also included Kegan, because he’d teased Wylie for only being able to juggle three things. Bryce’s new bike had also been added into the mix, but it not only was spinning around with the other things, Wylie had its pedals spinning so it looked like a ghost was riding it around in the circle, instead of Wylie just making it move with everything else.
But when those violet eyes landed on Wylie, Tess frowned. Without even looking his way, she walked straight over to Fritjof, yet didn’t take her gaze from her uncle. When she stopped next to Fritjof, she imitated his pose.
Back against the wall of the house. One foot bent so her foot was also resting on the log wall. Arms crossed over her chest. She was so damn cute, Fritjof found himself smiling for real for the first time since Wylie had found his magic the day before.
“He’s sad,” she said.
It was a statement of fact that Fritjof wasn’t entirely sure how she knew. Tess was five, not twenty-five. Then again, she was part Fae. If Fritjof had to guess, there was plenty they didn’t know about this little girl. He just prayed they’d be able to protect her from the Fae, giving her the chance to become who she was meant to be.
“Yes, he is,” Fritjof told her, deciding it was best not to try and cover up the truth. Somehow he figured she’d know if he was lying.
“He doesn’t think he’s good enough.” Those words coming out of the mouth of a five-year-old didn’t seem possible. Yet, it’s what Tess said. And if anyone knew Wylie best, it was the little girl who idolized her uncle.
There were a million questions he had for her, but Fritjof wasn’t sure where to start. Apparently, Tess didn’t have that problem. “Grandpa didn’t like Wylie. Everything Wylie did was wrong in his eyes.”
That wasn’t that surprising, Dùghall had been an ass. Father or not, the man didn’t have a compassionate bone in his body. Then again, Dùghall was a chicken shit, who abandoned the people he’d promised to take care of when he’d married Wylie’s mother. Criticism from someone like that shouldn’t even be listened to, ever.
But Wylie had grown up thinking Dùghall was his father. That would have made it harder for him to ignore his harsh words. Between the makeup and the clothes Wylie was enamored with, Fritjof imagined Dùghall hadn’t been able to accept Wylie’s more unique side.
To Fritjof, they made Wylie interesting. He couldn’t imagine the vivacious man any other way. And damn if those shiny lips with a bit of color on them didn’t make Fritjof want to taste them. There were several times he had to force himself not to take Wylie into his arms and kiss him senseless.
But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Fritjof wasn’t willing to take the risk of having his world destroyed by falling in love. Nor was he willing to do that to Wylie. The man deserved so much more.
“You are the only one who can fix this,” Tess told him before she pushed off the wall and skipped over to her uncle.
How she went from sounding like an adult one minute, then turn right back into a kid as she begged Wylie to let her fly, Fritjof didn’t know. But no matter how she managed to understand things far beyond her years, the fact was, she was right. Wylie was sad.
What he didn’t know, was how he could fix it.
Peals of giggles brought him back to the here and now. Looking up, he watched Tess soar through the air, doing flips then spreading out her arms and pretending she was a bird.
His heart did its own flip when he looked down to see Wylie, who wore a genuine smile as he made his niece laugh and cry in delight. The sight took his breath away.
Then those blue eyes landed on him and Fritjof nearly dropped to his knees and begged Wylie to give him a chance to show him what love was. Suddenly, he could see a future with Wylie by his side with lovesick grins on their faces as they held hands and watched Tess play, free to be the kid she deserved to be.
But before he could take his next breath, the image morphed into the one of his mother crumbling to the ground at news of her husband’s death. The accusation in her eyes as she glared at Fritjof, blaming him for not saving his father.
No.
He wouldn’t let that happen again. Love only destroyed.
Looking away from Wylie, Fritjof strode toward the barn, needing the sanctity he found in his animal form.
CHAPTER 12
His stomach dropped as Wylie watched Fritjof walk away from him. It wasn’t the action so much as what had been in his golden eyes when he did it. For there was an unwavering resolve to get as far from Wylie as possible.
Why was it that no one in Wylie’s life could accept him as he was? The man who had raised him had constantly been disappointed in everything Wylie did long before he started to wear makeup and dress in bright colors and revealing clothing.
He’d never forget, when he was eight, and hadn’t been able to catch the football. Dùghall – he was unable to think of him as his father any longer – had decided they needed to spend time tossing it around the yard. Wylie had no clue what had inspired Dùghall to spend time with him, or why it had to be a football, but at the time, Wylie had been thrilled the man he’d thought had been his father finally wanted to do something with him.
That was until it was obvious Wylie had no talent for catching the ball or throwing it. It had taken less than ten minutes for Dùghall to become disgusted with him and call it quits. Wylie refused to give up though.
For the next month, he forced Mairi to spend hours throwing the damn ball to him until he could catch it. But when he finally managed to convince Dùghall to try again, Wylie had realized his mistake. Mairi, as great as she was for helping him, didn’t throw like Dùghall. Her tosses had been soft and more… well, helpful for Wylie to catch the thing.
Dùghall’s weren’t. He gave Wylie only two tries, both times he missed, th
e second one had slammed into his stomach hard enough to send all the air in his body whooshing out.
That had been the last time Dùghall ever tried to do anything with Wylie. That he wasn’t his father, should have made those experiences less painful, and in a way… Who was he kidding? Just the memory was enough to make his heart hurt.
Needing time to himself, Wylie set Tess back on the ground and sent her inside with the others to get washed up for lunch.
“Aren’t you coming, Uncle Wylie?” Her violet eyes stared up at him as if she already knew his answer.
Wylie loved his niece more than anything, but there were times, like now, when he wished she wasn’t so damn observant. “I’m going to go for a walk first,” he told her.
She tilted her head and stared at him for several long moments that had Wylie ready to confess all. Thankfully, he didn’t quite get to that point when she said, “I find the horses easy to talk to.”
His mouth dropped open as she turned on her heel and raced up the front porch steps. Wylie wasn’t sure there would be a time when her ability to be so wise wouldn’t stun him. But she had a point.
He did need to talk out his issues with someone. But there was no one he’d ever trusted enough to speak with in the past. In the Amazon, he used to talk to the animals. And Tess was right, horses were usually the better option, for even if they had no idea what he was saying, they made it seem like they were at least listening.
Heading for the barn, he hoped at least one of the horses the Vikings owned would be willing to stay still long enough to give him the time of day. When he got to the fencing that surrounded the pasture, Wylie put a foot up on the rail and stood there watching the horses grazing a short distance away.
“Hey, Wylie,” Hrafn greeted. Teagan had explained that Hrafn had been beaten badly by his father when he was younger and they believe he experienced some brain damage as a result. It caused Hrafn to sometimes need a little extra time to understand what people were talking about, and there were times when he said something inappropriate, that even hurt someone’s feelings.
