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Three
Aela
Now
When Seamus’shead popped up at the door opening, I grinned at him.
He’d just turned fourteen, and while he was a precocious pain in my ass because he was a teenager, and he’d been overridden with hormones that made him a jerk, he was mine.
I was proud of him.
I mean, I’d known that before this whole shitstorm, but to be honest, I felt it even more so now.
I’d done this.
On my own.
I’d not only helped give birth to this wonderful kid with zero support system, but he was smart, well-rounded, and a good boy. He worked hard, was conscientious, and he gave a fuck.
Yeah, that was probably what mattered the most to me.
He gave a fuck about things that a lot of kids his age might not have cared about.
He was the one who sorted out our recycling, for Christ’s sake. He was the one who was planning on joining a walk next month to protest some Congress ruling that was rolling back ocean conservation.
I’d made this boy what he was, and I had to have faith that his father wouldn’t ruin fourteen years of tutelage.
“Mom!” he declared, his face lighting up with happiness now that I was home.
Of course, it was quashed a second later when he realized he was fourteen and he shouldn’t be happy to see his mom—it wasn’t cool.
But I’d take that one second of joy.
We were close, Shay and me. Even if testosterone was putting a wall between us that I wouldn’t be able to breach until he was back to being normal.
After the last few days I’d had, I needed a hug from my main man, so with him on his feet, I didn’t even give a shit that he backed away from me like I had pus-ridden sores on my face, like I was a frickin’ zombie. I just grabbed him, tackled him into a bear hug, and when he let me, when the struggle wasn’t too bad, I smiled into his hair, because he wanted this too.
“Missed you, butt face.”
I felt him snicker. “I inherited the butt face from you.”
I grinned. “That’s why you’re so purty.”
He scoffed at that, and I let him, just enjoying the hug, enjoying the way his arms were so tight around me—
Fuck.
Was this going to ruin our relationship?
I’d never hidden who his father was from him. What was the point? Along the way, he’d ask, he’d find out, so I’d been candid with him. Just like I was about everything.
He wanted to know about sex at nine, so I told him. Not graphic things, nothing like that. I just explained it, and I did so in a way that wasn’t embarrassing because I wanted him to know that he could come to me about anything.
He was a curious kid, and he’d asked questions, just like he did about everything. I fostered that need to grow, and we were solid as a result. Sure, he was getting more secretive and his bedroom door remained glued shut for reasons I thought were penis related, but what went down with him and his sock and hand were his own issues.
So long as I didn’t have to clean the socks.
Still, even though he was a little gross, and smelled a bit sweaty after a day at school, he was my boy.
