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But before that was anywhere near the table of options, there was something I had to do.
Something I should’ve done a while ago.
“Can you shift so we can talk?” I asked him quietly. When he didn’t respond, I added, “About Iris.”
He shifted faster than anyone I’d ever seen, kid or adult. It wasn’t painful for the children, usually, but it wasn’t always this easy either.
Which worried me.
Like everything else.
I crossed the small trailer, sitting down in the chair nearest to his bed and leaning over his mattress as he peered up at me. It was rare to see that perfect little face these days, and damn, I had missed it.
Missed my baby. My little grinning ball of fun.
He’d gone and started growing up, and getting sadder. And I didn’t know what to do about it.
“Do you have questions about her?” I asked him, stroking his long curls lightly with my fingers.
“Is she your mate?” he asked quietly.
“She is.”
“But I thought my mommy was your mate.”
Heavy weight pressed on my shoulders. “She was. And your mommy loved you very much.”
I hated that it was a lie.
Hated that in her last moments, she had refused to so much as look at her son.
Hated that she had despised him almost as much as she had hated me.
If the cancer hadn’t killed Elle, her black heart would’ve eventually taken her damn life.
“But you’ve seen grandma and grandpa together, right?” I asked Lucas.
He nodded.
“They’re mates. And you see how they always make each other smile?”
He nodded again, a bit harder. “Can Iris make you smile?”
My eyes stung at the unspoken suggestion that I was rarely happy.
He was right; I wasn’t a happy person. Sometimes, my lips would curve upward for him, but it had been a long time since I’d felt real, hearty joy. And I hated that I was teaching my son not to smile either. He was supposed to be a kid; these were supposed to be some of the happiest days of his life.
“I think she can,” I admitted, still playing lightly with his hair.
“Would she be my mommy too?”
The stinging in my eyes grew fiercer. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say no, too. I wanted to have a solid, certain answer for him. But there wasn’t one.
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “But I think she’d like to start by being your friend.”
His eyes widened. “Okay.”
“She doesn’t really know wolves, though. You might have to be in human form more often when she’s around.”
