But the other, much larger part of him was eager to try it – and so, foregoing the dainty little knife and fork, he picked it up between his fingers. It didn’t burntoomuch, and anyway, he didn’t even care – the rich smell of deep-fried batter meeting sweet lavender sugar and delicate orange blossom was making his mouth water.
As a food critic, he would normally be making note of things like the crunchy crispness as he bit through the outside, the fluffiness of the dough inside, the light floral undertones of the sugar, the way a tiny curlicue of steam was rising up from where he’d bitten it.
But as a guy who was here on his own time, the main thing he was thinking was,This is freaking delicious.
Taking the spoon, he scooped up some of the ice cream and slathered it on top like jam, before taking another bite.
Heaven is on Earth, and it’s in a snowy little mountain town in the middle of nowhere,he thought contentedly.
Maybe he would have to write a second review. He’d only ever officially revisited places that had made an effort to improve after initial negative reviews, but he was sorely tempted to give this place a follow-up. A judicious use of his powers would ensure that neither Sylvie nor Emily would particularly remember the face of the guy who, on a gluttonous whim, had decided to order both a pudding and a donut.
He'd never known where his powers came from – he could only assume that they were some sort of weird result of being a half-shifter. Certainly his mom had been baffled by it when he’d told her, and had assured him that his dad wasn’t a shifter, either. His father’s only unusual quality had been the money he’d left for them before he walked out of their lives.
Thesubstantialamount of money, which had ensured they’d never been left wanting for much – it had definitely been enough to put Max through school without any troubles, and his mom had been able to open the beauty salon she’d always dreamed of running and hire other people to take care of the business stuff she didn’t feel like doing – which had been most of it.
And she’d always been there to pick him up from school and make sure he got to clubs and sports activities. She’s always been there at the few games he’d played before he realized sports weren’t quite his thing, cheering and waving one of her colorful silky headscarves in the air whenever he’d done anything even remotely near the ball.
The money had been helpful, sure, but Max had never quite been able to stop wondering why his father had just disappeared like that. Especially given how much his absence obviously pained Max’s mom. It was clear that she had loved him deeply,and that his abrupt, mysterious departure was a wound that had never fully healed. She had always obviously been doing her best to raise him in a warm and loving environment, but sometimes the confusion and grief overwhelmed both of them, even though Max knew that most people who knew his mother – with her massive mane of expertly coiffed hair, perfectly done makeup, and rather, uh,loudtaste in fashion, which absolutely extended to fake leopard print jackets and bright pink leggings – would have found that hard to believe.
And Max knew that even though the money had definitely made their lives easier, his mom didn’t know what to make of his father having left it for them – was that all the relationships had meant to him, some transaction? Or had it been left for them out of guilt? Was there some reason he’d had to leave that he could never explain to either of them?
But Max knew he’d never be getting any answers to those questions.
The only thing that he’d had to look forward to was learning how to shift, hoping against hope that his bad eyesight didn’t necessarily mean anything in that respect. He’d grown up thinking almost obsessively about the day when he would shift into his lion form, waiting impatiently to hear its voice speaking to him… but it had never happened. He’d just been plain old Max, human, alone in his head with his thoughts. His angry, lonely, frustrated thoughts.
It had been obvious that his mom was disappointed about his inability to shift as well. Not out of shame or anything like that, but out of sadness that she couldn’t share with him what it was to be a shifter. He knew that she would love nothing more than to find a safe, secluded place in the wilderness and show him how to be a lion, but it just wasn’t meant to be.
Just one more thing your father stole from you,his mother had said bitterly to him when she’d realized that he couldn’tshift… and though he’d protested, part of him had silently agreed with her, even though he’d known on some level that he was being unfair.
In the end, he’d drifted around a bit after high school, unsure what he’d wanted out of life – and somehow, he’d ended up becoming an anonymous food critic.
It wasn’t like he’d planned it, per se – he’d started keeping a blog about his dining experiences for something to do, and it’d just taken off. He’d found that he enjoyed the writing part of it – and the eating part, that went without saying – and other people seemed to enjoy what he wrote.
His ability to keep from being noticed meant that he never had to worry about someone finding out who he was, and so he’d moved around aimlessly, content to eat all the food and then write about it, even as the feeling that there was supposed to be somethingmoregnawed at him.
Nobody noticed him, hardly anyone talked to him, and that was how he liked it.
Not the most glamorous use of unexplained powers, but I guess I’ll take it,he thought glumly, pushing around the now-soggy remains of the donut in the melted puddle of ice cream.And great, now I’ve ruined my donut.
Grumpily, he finished off his melted mess of a dessert. It was still pretty damn good, all things considered, but he was annoyed at himself for letting it get to that stage.
Maybe I should order another one. Just to get the proper experience.
The sound of childish giggles broke him out of his reverie, and he looked up to see a man bouncing a toddler in his arms near the front counter, holding some kind of nonsense conversation with her while she laughed delightedly. The man was tall – about the same height as Max, even – with strong features and silver streaks at his temples.
Max watched with a slight smile of his own, feeling a pang at the sight of what was presumably the girl’s father spending quality time with her.
He had so few memories of his own father, and they were all blurry, more feelings than concrete memories. But all of them – except for the last one, when he left – were good memories. It was hard to reconcile. He almost wished the only memories he had of him were bad ones.
Abruptly, the man’s head snapped up, his arms tightening around the little girl, and Max suddenly found himself locking eyes with him.
What the –?!
It was like with Kieran all over again, except that this guy was definitely more on the defensive, the child’s wellbeing clearly paramount.
The man looked at him warily, his expression half alert, half confused.
Max, meanwhile, wasallconfused.
