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I notice a note on the coffee table, and I pick it up and read it.
Cage,
I’m crashing with Orlando tonight. The loft is all yours. There are t-shirts and sweats up there you can use. Toothbrush in the bathroom. See you in the morning.
A.
So that’s it.
Orlando.
That’s my kid, is it? Orlando. Good name. I like it. I’m glad she didn’t give our baby a goofy name unfit for a shifter. Orlando’s great. I love the city of Orlando. I love everything about it and I love the fact that our kid has a cool name.
Placing the note back down, I look around until I see the little staircase leading up to the loft. It’s so small and tucked to the side that I didn’t notice it earlier. Then again, I was a little distressed earlier.
First things first, though: I go into the bathroom, brush my teeth, and wash my face. Then I head up to the loft, find the clothes she set out for me, and crawl under the blankets.
Instantly, her scent surrounds me.
Instantly, I’m lost in her.
Again.
Chapter Five
Alicia
“Train, train, train.”
I open my eyes to see Orlando standing over me. Sure enough, he’s holding a bright red train in his hands.
“Red train,” he says in a sing-song voice. “Blue train.” He holds up another train. He makes them dance around in the air, and then he laughs and moves back to his toys. Pushing myself up off of the floor, I look around the room.
I don’t really remember setting up the little nest in a sleeping bag last night, nor do I remember Orlando waking up this morning. I feel sore when I push up off the floor. I’m way too old to be crashing on carpets. Once upon a time, sleeping in a sleeping bag at a friend’s house didn’t seem too bad.
Now it’s a nightmare.
“Train, train, train,” Orlando sings. I look over to see him moving his trains over the tracks he’s set up in his bedroom. “Train, train, choo choo choo.”
I stand up and stretch, cringing
as my achy body moves, and I make a mental note never to sleep on the floor again.
Then I remember why I slept in my son’s room.
Cage.
Is he here?
He was so angry and shocked when he ran out the door last night. He looked absolutely, totally wild. He looked like he had no idea how to handle what was happening to him, and I don’t blame him.
I’ve had years to come to terms with what happened.
He hasn’t.
Did he come back last night?
I left the door unlocked – something I never do – just in case he wandered in, but I was so tired that as soon as I grabbed a pillow and my sleeping bag, I really did just crash. If he came in, I didn’t hear him. I slept like the dead.
