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“I wanted to do something different.”
I nodded toward the road. “We should get to the meeting.”
“I don’t miss attending these.”
I snorted. “Few of us get out of them anymore. Blake and Troy are having a field day with mate pairings.”
“Do they ever slow down?”
I stepped into the yard, hyperaware of the fact that my legs were a lot longer than hers. With such a wide stride, I tended to leave people in the dust. Our awkward night discussing our weekend plans had turned into an awkwardly quiet morning, so I didn’t want to ruffle her feathers by agitating her in other ways.
But when I checked on her pace, she seemed to keep up with me easily enough. As I turned back to the dirt path ahead, I noticed my neighbors appearing in twos and threes, some of them joining our brisk walk to the recreation center.
Five minutes of silently walking beside Regina made me feel invigorated. My shoulders relaxed, and my fingers uncurled from my palms as I tucked my thumbs into the loops of my jeans. While Regina tightened her shawl around her shoulders, I walked without a jacket.
I ran too hot to cover up this early in the year. Sure, the wind was crisp today, but it was a welcome chill compared to the heat of my nightmares. While I thought back over my evening spent in the room next to the guest room where Regina slept, I cast glances at her, checking her through my peripheral vision.
She was practically glowing in the early afternoon sunlight. The way her soft curls bounced around her shoulders gave her a friendly appearance, something I didn’t quite associate with most witches I had encountered. Then again, many of those witches were of the war variety—there wasn’t much that was friendly about them, to begin with.
But Regina was different. She was radiant and sweet. Unshifted children skipped up next to her and grabbed her hand, or shifted kids darted under her feet as pups, cats, or rodents. Not once did she lose her stride or trip over anyone. It was like she was at peace with the world and that she knew herself in relation to her surroundings.
What a rare beauty to witness.
After a few more minutes, the children sprinted back to their parents. I walked undisturbed next to my best friend’s daughter as we approached the recreation center. Some folks were gathered at the newly installed iron tables under the trees to the right of the recreation center’s entrance. I avoided looking at anyone directly, mostly because of my unsettling gaze.
I learned early on when I joined the Hayden pack that people were intimidated by my size and glare. Though I couldn’t always reduce those things, I could adjust them, so people didn’t feel afraid in my presence. The only people that should be scared of me were the ones who intended harm.
That typically meant vampires.
I sighed deeply as I reached for the handle of the door. Regina touched my upper bicep, her fingers feathery light on my skin as she drifted past me—and I swore my heart stuttered hard enough to reset my breathing. She didn’t even ask me to hold the door open. I did it. Being raised by a considerably demanding daughter meant I was a gentleman despite my buff appearance.
And with Regina, it felt natural to lean into that instinct.
Like many meetings before, the rec center was brimming with attentive conversation. The stage was set with a few chairs and a microphone. Multiple tables housed shifters in collections of four and five. Kiara waved us down from the other side of the floor, her spirited smile and wiggling arm hard to miss.
Hard to resist smiling right back as Regina bounced ahead of me. The two women giggled as they hugged each other. Barely a day had passed since they were last together, yet they hugged now like years had gone by. Friendships that affectionate were something I missed—and that was when my heart seemed to ache hard enough for me to pause right in the middle of the floor.
Steven, I thought as I palmed my chest. I rubbed my sternum, trying to jumpstart my body into walking again. I should have called sooner. I should have written. I should have texted.
Somewhere in the static of voices, I heard my daughter. “Dad, are you okay?”
Everything about the surrounding room irritated me. The overhead lights were too bright. The windows were too shiny. The chairs squeaked and creaked and clanged all over the place. Sneakers squealed over the tile while children laughed far too loud, screeched, whined.
Hot balls of energy locked on my shoulders—hands. They were hands. A pair of hands. Beautiful, soft, and delicate hands. Caring hands that slowly rubbed the tension out of my joints and drew my focus back to what was in front of me.
Twin gray eyes. A pair of plush lips. Regina.
She tipped her head back to peer up at me. “Better?”
I blinked. She took that as a yes—which was right for her to do—and she guided me by my hand to the table where Kiara had originally waved at us. Cold waves splashed over my body, slicking my armpits with sweat, and coating my torso with freezing heat. I didn’t know which way was up—but Regina held my hand despite my confusion and inability to communicate.
Kiara sat across from me and reached for my hands. “Dad?”
My eyelids snapped a few times. “Yeah?”
“You alright?”
“Peachy keen.”
