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“What’s taking so long?” someone asked, and Milo stumbled with the loss of Rowan in his orbit, catching himself on the wall and looking toward the door.

The man standing there looked like Rowan in the future. He squinted.

“Did I time travel?” he asked dumbly as the man walked into the cramped room and stood next to Rowan. “The hell?”

“This is my father,” Rowan said to Milo, and the words hit like a cold shower.

“Oh…” Milo said. “That makes much more sense than time travel.”

“It sure does,” Rowan’s dad said, still staring at him.

Milo straightened up, hoping his face was giving “totally normal person your son happens to know” rather than “secretly a dragon, had no clue, but totally almost kissed your son in a restaurant bathroom” vibes.

“Hi,” he said, extending his hand and wincing when the voice carried more than he thought it would. “I’m Milo.”

A gigantic hand clasped his own, warm and rough against his skin. Was his palm clammy? What if he popped claws now, of all times? He looked down quickly, seeing his normal nails and sighing in relief until he noticed a trail of pale silver scales barely visible under the cuff of his sleeve.

He pulled his arm back roughly, clasping his hands behind his back and hoping that was the only place the scales were visible.

“I’m Rupert,” the man said. “Rowan’s father.”

“Nice to meet you.” Milo was proud of his polished people skills.

“Likewise,” Rupert said, turning to Rowan. “How do you two know each other?”

“Um…” Rowan reached for the collar of his shirt, fiddling with it. Milo watched him swallow hard, watched the way his eyes never met his dad’s. He recalled the conversation he’d had with Rowan about family expectations and the struggle to meet them. Rowan seemed larger than life to Milo, but here, in front of his father, it almost felt like it was Milo’s turn to protect him.

He just had zero clue how.

Lie?

Act dumb?

Or tell half a truth that would be believable enough to work while not really answering anything.

“I deliver to your company.” Milo opted for the half-truth. “Food. When they order lunch or snacks and stuff from the new wing place down the street. So we’ve met once or twice.”

“I’ve heard good things about that place,” Rupert said, still looking between them like he wasn’t quite buying the story.

“Best wings ever!” Milo said. “I highly recommend.”

“I’ll have to try them sometime,” Rupert said, and Milo nodded before deciding he should bow out before any more questions were hurled their way. He might make things worse at this rate.

“I have to get back. But lovely to meet you. Bye!”

He booked it out of there before anyone else could say anything to him. Stress, man. He did not do well with stress.

He looked back over his shoulder.

He hoped he had done the right thing.

He hoped Rowan would be okay.

13

Rowan

“So…” his dad said when the dust Milo left behind had settled. “That’s the happy tree friend.”