“Do you still have my number?” Kade’s eyes linger on his face, then dart down his body, pausing at the bag of clothes at his feet.
Felix bites his lip. He’d etched Kade’s cellphone number into his mind, back when he was still contemplating a call. He’d hit the End Call button before he could confess what he’d done. Now, with Kade’s gaze on him, he pulls out his phone, handing it over.
Kade studies the painting on the home screen—a red-roofed cottage in the countryside, surrounded by trees. They’d talked about a home countless times in the past, with a vegetable garden and birch trees on the edges of the property, and a wooden bridge arching over a stream.
“I’ve been meaning to put that one on sale,” Felix says. “Hopefully it’ll land a buyer.”
“You’re not keeping it?” Kade pulls up the phone contacts screen, tapping out his name and number—still the same.
“I should... let go of some things.” Felix shrugs. “I’ve got too many paintings lying around.”
Kade stares at the cottage again, then hands the phone back. “They should sell for a lot. You’re good.”
Felix’s heart flutters. He tries not to look at the bonding mark on Kade’s wrist. There’s only one there, left from two decades ago. “It doesn’t matter if I’m good. They’re not selling, and I need the money.”
“People knew you in Highton. Your work will probably sell if you get them some exposure.”
Felix sighs. It’s not as though he hasn’t thought about it. “It’s difficult. There are a million artists out there.”
“But—”
“You should be getting home,” he says, glancing at the inky sky. The streetlights have been on since they pulled in, and a wintry chill creeps up his sleeves, marching goosebumps across his skin. “It’s late.”
Kade sighs. He reaches slowly for the ignition, his gaze still on Felix. “Fine. See you around?”
“I guess.” Felix gathers his bag of clothes in his arms, skirting around the bike as it roars to life. Kade backs out of the driveway, waving.
Felix waves back. The moment Kade rides down the street, Felix slips into the house, shutting the door behind himself.
He drops the bag of clothes on the floor. Leans against the door, one hand coming up to cradle his belly. There’s a baby in there. His child.
“I guess I should say hi at some point,” Felix murmurs, pulling his shirt up. His belly is still flat, still pale. “I’m your dad.”
His breath snags. He’ll be a father. He’ll be a dad, and he hasn’t thought about it, ever since he left Kade five years ago. Felix can’t imagine himself with a tiny child, holding one, having a person who won’t remember him for all his mistakes.
It feels like relief, fathering a child who won’t judge him. His throat tightens. “I think I’m really glad to have you,” Felix says, rubbing a thumb over his skin. It feels like a second chance to make things right. “I’ll do my best for you.”
And he will.
6
Kade
“Want a painting, Mom?” Kade asks three days later, looking up from his bowl of leek and potato soup. “I heard there’s some for sale.”
Across the tiny square table, his mother raises her eyebrows, surveying the carved plates hanging on the kitchen walls. Her red-brown eyes sparkle. “We might have space. Are they watercolors?”
“Yeah. Landscapes.”
“Really? You know I’ll always have space for those.” She glances out the kitchen doorway, where framed paintings line the foyer and hall. “Do you know the artist? We could visit and look at some.”
“Yeah. I know him.” Kade swallows. He shouldn’t be nervous about telling his mom, when she’s listened to him vent in the past. But mentioning his bondmate feels like picking an old wound open. “Actually... It’s Felix. He’s back and selling his watercolors.”
To ease the ache in his chest, he looks at the polished teak counters, the way his mom has scrubbed them until they shine. The edges of the fridge gleam, and the stovetop shines in the sunlight.
They’ve done well ever since the bankruptcy. This house is halfway paid off, and they have hot meals in their stomachs and laughter around the table. Most of his savings had gone into helping his parents recover. While he and his brothers were working extra jobs, his dad had passed away. Then Chris and Sam had moved out of Meadowfall, leaving his mom with just him for support. Kade and his mother have been recovering, though, just like they’ve recovered from almost everything else.
“Felix? I thought you said he was in Highton. When did he get back?”
Kade shrugs, scooping soup into his mouth. “He moved back about a week ago. I don’t think he’s unpacked yet.”
“That’s nice. Right?” A line grows on her brow. When Kade doesn’t answer, she asks, “Are you upset?”
I don’t know. Kade stirs the soup in his bowl, thinking about that first night, then the time he’s spent lying awake in bed since, wondering if Felix will disappear from his life again. That’s not within his control. “Maybe.”
Mom leans in, her voice hushed. “Is he... with anyone else?”
He chuckles then, low and unexpectedly bitter. Felix has no new markings, but his lavender scent had also faded. There’s not much Kade discerned other than there’s only one scar on his wrist. “I don’t know. Don’t think so.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “But that means there’s hope, right?”
“Guess so.” He sighs, lifting his soup bowl to drain it. Can’t do anything right now. “He’s working at the gas station just off the 95.”
“At least you’ll get a chance to see him. Does he want to be friends?”
“Maybe. I gave him my number.” Kade stands to rinse their bowls at the sink. “Gotta go, though. Working at the office today. Damn debugging fixes.”
“If Felix is still selling those paintings, I’d love to see them,” she says, getting to her feet. “And... well,
