6. Michael
CHAPTER SIX
MICHAEL
If you ever need me, I’ll be here for you . Doyle had no idea how much those words meant to me.
Walking beside him to the kitchen, I couldn't help but cling to that promise, even though the reality of my dad’s impending arrival loomed over me.
As we approached the kitchen, I could hear voices carrying through the doorway.
"He reminds me of William. That surprised me at first," came Zane's voice.
"Really? Then I want to get a good look at this lost fox Doyle brought home," another voice said, one I didn't recognize.
My cheeks flushed as I realized they were talking about me.
"Ivan, don't scare off the fox," came a third voice, this one tinged with amusement.
Doyle finally cleared his throat as we entered the kitchen. Three men were seated around the kitchen counter.
I recognized Zane, but not the other two. Doyle gave all three a pointed look.
"Ivan, Draven, this is Michael. Michael, this is Draven and Ivan, the other two members of my pack," Doyle said.
"Other two? Your pack is comprised of only four members?" I asked, unthinkingly.
Ivan let out a low growl, making me jump.
"Dragon shifter groups don't get bigger than that," Doyle told me gently.
I closed my mouth, recalling how Liliana had told me about the war between her kin and the dragon shifters and how it had shifted the scales.
Dragon shifters were practically non-existent now or in hiding.
"It's nice to meet you officially, Michael," Draven said, flashing me a friendly smile.
"Officially?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation light despite my nerves.
"I was there yesterday at Yellow Ridge. Well, so was Ivan," Draven explained.
"Yes, and I got very curious why Doyle withdrew from the fight. So you're that reason," Ivan said, giving me a scrutinizing look.
I swallowed, doing my best to hold his gaze but failing miserably.
"That's enough," Doyle snapped at Ivan.
"Ivan, take a walk," Zane suggested.
"I need to run an errand anyway," Ivan said, before leaving the kitchen via the back door.
"I gotta go as well, I promised my mate I'd drive him to his workplace," Draven said rather sheepishly, nodding to Zane, before excusing himself.
Now it was just Doyle, Zane, and me in the kitchen.
I wondered where Zane's mate and kids were. Maybe they had already left for the day.
"Sorry about that," Doyle said softly, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "They can be a bit... intense."
"It's okay," I mumbled, feeling a bit out of place but grateful Doyle was there.
Zane looked at me thoughtfully, his earlier hostility replaced with curiosity.
"Michael, you’re welcome here. I’m sorry if it didn’t appear that way at first. Doyle seems to trust you, and that means a lot,” Zane said.
"Thank you," I said, genuinely touched by his words. "But I’ve overstayed my welcome. My dad’s picking me up later."
There was a lump in my throat after that admission. Zane looked relieved.
"I’ll leave you two to it,” Zane said. “Doyle, I’ll be in my study if you need me.”
“Have the bears reached out?” Doyle asked.
“I’m having that conversation with Venom now. I’ll update you later,” Zane said before leaving the kitchen.
Once we were alone, Doyle turned to me with a smile.
"How about I make you some breakfast?" Doyle asked.
"That sounds great," I replied, eager to spend as much time as possible with Doyle.
Doyle moved around the kitchen with ease, gathering ingredients and setting up the stove.
The aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh eggs soon filled the room, mixing with the comforting scent of coffee brewing.
As he cooked, I watched him, feeling a sense of warmth and belonging that I hadn't felt in years.
"How do you like your eggs?" Doyle asked, glancing over his shoulder.
"Scrambled, please," I said.
The intimacy of the moment, the simple act of him cooking for me, felt almost surreal.
As Doyle finished preparing our breakfast, he set the plates on the table and gestured for me to sit.
"Here you go, scrambled eggs and bacon. I hope you like it,” Doyle told me.
I took a bite, savoring the rich flavors.
"It's delicious. Thank you, Doyle,” I told him.
He smiled, sitting across from me.
"You're welcome, Michael,” he replied.
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes before I finally gathered the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at me.
"Doyle, who is William?” I asked.
“William is, was my mate,” Doyle eventually answered.
Instinct told me to retreat, to drop this topic.
Doyle suddenly looked guarded and it was easy to see he didn’t want to talk about it, but still I pushed.
“How did you...how did you lose William?" I had to ask.
Shifters normally only had one mate in a single lifetime. If their mate died, the remaining half usually followed.
It made me even more curious about Doyle and how he managed to survive this long if his true love was gone.
Wait. What did that mean for me, for us?
Would Doyle ever love and cherish me as much as he did William, or had part of his soul died when William was taken from him?
These were selfish thoughts, but I couldn't help myself.
Doyle's expression softened, a flicker of pain crossing his eyes.
"It was a long time ago. William thought he could negotiate with Liliana’s coven. He walked into an ambush and didn't make it out,” he said.
"I'm sorry," I said, feeling guilty for bringing up such a painful memory.
"It's okay," Doyle replied, looking at me. “I appreciate you asking. But let's make a deal. You can ask me one difficult question, and in turn, I get to ask you one. Do we have a deal?"
I hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Deal."
"Alright," Doyle said, leaning back in his chair. "Now, my turn. What do you fear the most, Michael?"
I swallowed hard, the question hitting closer to home than I expected.
"I fear...going back to my old life and feeling like I don't belong there anymore. I fear losing this...whatever this is, with you,” I admitted.
Doyle reached across the table, taking my hand in his.
"You don’t have to lose it. We’ll keep in touch. If you need help, I’ll always be there for you,” he said.
The sincerity in his eyes, the warmth of his touch, made my heart race. Hope resurfaced.
Me leaving with my dad didn’t mean the end for Doyle and me.
“That means a lot,” I told him.
After breakfast, Doyle showed me around town and helped me purchase what I might need, including some basic essentials and a cellphone.
I told him I didn’t need him to buy me one, but Doyle insisted it was a way for us to keep in contact, so I agreed.
I enjoyed the sightseeing, but when Doyle noticed me getting tired, we went to his favourite diner for lunch.
Being around so many people still unnerved me, but with Doyle’s reassuring presence next to me, it was manageable.
I couldn't focus on eating, my eyes repeatedly drifting to the clock on the wall.
Any moment now, my dad would arrive. I tried to push the food around my plate, but my appetite was nonexistent.
Doyle noticed and leaned closer. "What are you thinking about?" he asked.
I sighed, glancing down at my uneaten meal. The words came pouring out of my mouth.
“I’m worried about what my dad will think about me after all these years. Will he be disappointed by the son that's been returned to him? When I left, I had just finished college. The world was my oyster, and now...I'm a broken shell of the person I used to be,” I said.
Doyle reached out and placed a comforting hand on mine.
"Your dad won't judge you based on what you've been through. He'll be relieved and grateful to have you back. You survived, Michael. That’s what matters,” Doyle reminded me.
His words brought a small smile to my face.
It surprised me how easy it was to talk to Doyle, to confide in him about my fears and insecurities.
"I guess you're right," I said softly, squeezing his hand in gratitude.
As the minutes ticked by, I found myself opening up to Doyle about my time as Liliana's familiar.
I told him about the day she captured me, how my life changed overnight.
Some things were still hard to talk about, especially the things she made me do, but Doyle didn't push or prod.
He merely listened, his eyes never leaving mine.
"It wasn't just the physical pain," I admitted, my voice trembling. "It was the way she broke me down, made me feel like I was nothing. Every day was a battle to hold onto some semblance of who I used to be."
Doyle's grip tightened on my hand, his expression pained.
"You are not nothing, Michael. You're strong, stronger than you realize. And you're not alone anymore,” Dolyle said.
A warmth spread through me at his words. For so long, I had felt isolated and broken, but with Doyle, I felt I could be something more.
Someone even worthy of being Doyle’s…what? His mate?
William had been his one true love, but perhaps there was a possibility Doyle could love another.
"Thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper..
Just then, the door to the diner opened, and I looked up to see my dad walking in, his eyes scanning the room.
My heart pounded in my chest as he spotted me and made his way over.
Doyle gave my hand one last reassuring squeeze before letting go, allowing me to stand and face my father.
"Dad," I said, my voice choked with emotion.
He pulled me into a tight embrace, and for a moment, all my fears melted away.
"Michael," he said, his voice thick with tears. "I've missed you so much."
As I held onto him, I knew that Doyle was right. My dad wasn't here to judge me; he was here to love me, to welcome me back into his life.
I didn’t even know what I was so worried about in the first place.
After my dad released me from his embrace, he turned his attention to Doyle, giving him a critical, scrutinizing look.
"So this is the man who rescued you?" he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and guarded suspicion.
I had kept some of the details of my rescue from my dad during our phone conversation.
I hadn’t mentioned that Doyle was a dragon shifter or that this town was under his pack's protection.
At that time, it felt necessary to keep some of Doyle's secrets.
A tense moment hung in the air as both Doyle and my father sized each other up.
My heart raced with worry and suddenly, it was hard to breathe.
I feared a fight or argument was about to break out and that was the last thing I wanted.
But then my dad did something unexpected. He held out a hand to Doyle.
Doyle hesitated for a split second before taking it, seemingly taken aback when my dad pulled him into a bear hug.
It was so unlike my father, who had never been one to openly show his emotions.
When he finally released Doyle, I could see the glistening of tears in his eyes.
"Thank you for saving my son," my dad said, his voice thick with emotion.
Doyle, still a bit stunned, nodded. "It was the right thing to do," he replied softly.
My dad gave a nod of approval, his earlier scrutiny replaced with genuine gratitude.
“After so many years, I thought I had lost him," he said, his voice cracking slightly.
Feeling the emotional weight of the moment, I stepped closer to Doyle, wanting to reassure him as much as myself.
"Dad, Doyle's done more for me than just rescue me," I said, my voice firm. "He's been there for me, helping me…adjust.”
My father looked at me for a long time. He was a smart man and probably figured there was something between Doyle and me.
"Then you have my deepest thanks, Doyle. If there's anything I can do for you, anything at all, you just let me know,” my dad said.
"Thank you, sir. Knowing Michael is in good hands…that means a lot,” Doyle said.