My son.
Chapter 16
Krystal
I letthe swinging kitchen door thump into my hip as I stepped into the main room. I’d been braced for the everyday kind of chaos. But what I got instead was my nine-year-old on a barstool, and Zaden standing across from him, looking shellshocked.
Bryce looked small, sitting at the bar with his feet kicking air, and his hands wrapped around a soda. Zaden looked tense, yet looked at my son as if he knew. He knew that Bryce was his.
I froze, watching them. My first thought was to run. Then my wolf reminded me that I couldn’t outrun a dragon. Not that I wanted to run from Zaden. Just the awkwardness of the situation. So I forced my feet to move.
Three tables of late lunchers occupied the front room. The old couple by the window. The bridge crew, who’d ordered pitchers and fries as if their lives depended on it. A pair of college kids in ball caps, silently working through burgers and a mountain of fries. All of them invisible, background noise to the scene at the bar.
Bryce didn’t notice me at first. His mouth moved nonstop, talking to Zaden about a book series, or maybe the new Mario game, hard to tell at this distance. Zaden nodded at each point, listening harder than any grown-up ever did, but also scanning Bryce’s face as if searching for clues. Or answers.
My hands shook as I untied my apron, walked behind the counter, and waited for a break in the conversation.
Bryce saw me, waved, and said, "Mom! Did you know he’s from Stock Creek, too?"
"Small world," I said, summoning a smile. "What happened? I thought you were supposed to be with Jack."
"Ethan's puking, so Jack had to bring me here."
Zaden looked at me with shock in his eyes. "He tried to get ahold of Nathan and Elle first but had to drop him off."
I nodded mutely and mustered a smile for Bryce. "Let’s get you settled at a table so you can work on homework."
He finished his soda in one go, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and hopped down. Zaden watched him go. When Bryce was past, Zaden looked at me, and I saw it, the accusation.
I guided Bryce around the bar to a side booth, the one farthest from the bar. He slid in, oblivious, telling me about the new kid in science class, something about volcanoes and gummy worms. I pretended to listen while my eyes traced the bar. Zaden hadn’t moved. He watched us making no show of it but also not caring who saw.
I fished my phone out and typed with my thumb under the table.
Emergency. Need you to pick up Bryce from the bar NOW.
I sent it to Nathan and prayed he wasn’t in the middle of Pack business.
Bryce poked at a menu, reading each item out loud with deliberate slowness. "What’s a Monte Cristo?" he asked, and before I could answer, "Can I get one? It’s like French toast with ham?"
"Maybe next time. It's a little early for your lunch."
He shrugged, eyes flicking up and over my shoulder. "Is it okay if I hang out with him? He’s funny."
"Who, Zaden?" Oh, geez that was hard to say.
Bryce nodded, earnest. "He said he’ll teach me how to shoot pool. Like for real."
I checked the phone. No response from Nathan. The old couple finished their lunch, left a ten on the table, and shuffled out. The bridge crew signaled for another pitcher, and Angel gave me a look that asked if I could handle it.
I left Bryce at the booth and went behind the bar. I could feel Zaden’s attention like a wire strung tight across the room. I poured the pitcher, dropped it at the table, and on the way back, let myself glance at him.
His eyes met mine. No malice, but no warmth either. He looked like he was trying to will the truth out of me, to force me to say it so he wouldn’t have to.
Back at the booth, Bryce had taken out his homework and gotten to work.
I checked my phone again. Still nothing.
Time stretched. The college kids left, dropping a couple crumpled bills on the table. Angel circled, wiping down surfaces, muttering about the NCAA and how no one ever tipped enough to cover the mess.
