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“As shifters,” he shakes his head. “My dad had the idea that we would change into our bear forms in order to threaten her, and then shift back to carry the cash out of the doors.”
“Seems flawless,” I say drily, because there are more holes in that plan than swiss cheese.
“The night before, my dad thought I was sleeping. I wasn’t. I was awake. I couldn’t sleep because I was nervous and overexcited.”
“You heard him saying something.”
“To one of the other guys,” he nods. “And my dad made it clear that after the job was done, they were going to take off. Turns out, he wanted me because I’m the same kind of shifter as him. My dad figured that if we both shifted, but only one of us got caught, that the cops would argue the witness had been confused or unsure of what happened. Even if she said there were two shifters, they would argue there was only one.”
“Your dad wanted you to be the fall guy,” I say, suddenly realizing the betrayal.
“He wanted me to be the fall guy,” Cage agrees, and he shakes his head sadly. “And I was so damn gullible that I almost went for it.”
“Almost?”
“I backed out,” Cage says. “I left in the night before any of them woke up. Later I found out they’d done the job without me, but they’d gotten busted, of course. My dad had never been much of a planner. He was more content to do things by the seat of his pants.”
“So what did you do?”
“I went to see him in prison.”
“And?”
“He blamed me for everything,” Cage says. “He took no responsibility for his own choices. He said if I’d been there, things would have been fine. I told him I’d overheard his conversation with his goons, and as soon as I said that, my dad clammed up. I left, and I never looked back. He died the next year.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I find myself whispering.
“Don’t be sorry.”
“Okay.”
I look over to see Orlando’s eyes closing.
“We should put him to bed,” I tell Cage, standing up.
“No bed,” Orlando says. “Not tired.”
“You’re practically asleep right now.”
“Not sleepy,” Orlando insists. “I’m not sleepy. I’m awake.”
“He does look pretty tired,” Cage finally agrees, and he gets up, too. He reaches down and lifts Orlando into his arms. He pulls him close, kisses him on the forehead, and then lays him down in his bed.
“Do you need to go potty before bed?” I ask Orlando.
“No. And I’m not sleepy.”
“Okay,” I tell him. I press my lips to his cheek, pull his blankets up to his neck, and place his favorite stuffed panda bear in his arms.
Then Cage and I leave the room, and I close the door behind us.
The minute we’re alone, Cage grabs me and pulls me close. He hugs me tightly, and for a second, I don’t know what to say. Instantly, I’m surrounded by his scent and his touch and I’m transported back to that night all of those years ago.
The night that I had sex for the first – and the last – time.
“Cage,” I whisper. “What are you doing?”
“It’s called a hug, Alicia. Just go with it.”
