13. Michael
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MICHAEL
Packing was harder than I thought it would be.
As I stood in my room, trying to figure out what clothes to bring over to Doyle's, I felt an overwhelming sense of uncertainty.
How long would I be staying with him?
I had no idea, so I threw random clothes into my luggage, along with some essentials—though I wasn’t even sure what counted as essentials anymore.
Will my dad be alright on his own? I mean, he should be.
He managed fine without me all these years, but I still couldn’t help but worry.
The conversation with my dad during breakfast kept replaying in my mind.
His defeated expression haunted me, filling me with guilt.
Teaming up with Doyle initially to convince my dad to let me go felt like a betrayal.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was the worst son in the world.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Doyle asked, noticing my distress.
"I feel bad, for my dad," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.
Doyle walked over and pulled me into an embrace. His arms around me felt like a protective barrier against my fears and doubts.
His touch was warm, and I felt a flicker of peace.
"Don't be," Doyle murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "He and I just want what's best for you. Right now, your safety is our priority. And besides, you're not leaving him forever. You'll be keeping in touch."
His words reassured me a little, but the guilt still gnawed at me.
"Sorry, I appear ungrateful, don't I?" I asked him.
"No," Doyle said, resting his hand on my cheek.
His smile was gentle and filled with understanding. I leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his presence.
"With everything that’s happened, it's only natural to be worried,” Doyle added.
"Can... we stay like this a little longer?" I asked, hating how vulnerable I sounded.
Doyle kissed me on the mouth, and suddenly all my fears evaporated.
It was a gentle and reassuring kiss, a promise that everything would be okay.
"For as long as you want," he whispered against my lips.
What would I do without you? I silently wondered. Eventually, I finished packing.
As Doyle and I returned downstairs, I noticed my dad was still where we left him.
He stood in the kitchen, gazing out the window, looking distant. My doubts returned.
“Dad, will you be okay?” I hesitantly asked.
My dad blinked, as if he only just noticed we were there.
“Michael, of course. You should worry about yourself first,” he said.
My dad flashed me a strained smile that wasn’t the least bit convincing.
“You could come with us to Sky Stead, Matthew,” Doyle suggested.
“Then I’d feel like a third wheel,” my dad said jokingly, then his face turned serious. He shook his head.
My dad continued, “I can’t just pack up and leave. I have a shop to run, cars to fix. Customers I can’t disappoint.”
“Very well,” Doyle said, and I appreciated that he asked.
A honk sounded outside. "That must be Ivan," Doyle said. "I'll go on ahead."
Doyle kissed me on the cheek, giving me some privacy with my dad.
“You take care now, son,” my dad said.
“Dad…” I ventured, unsure of what to say.
Realizing I didn't want to leave with any lingering tension between us, I gathered my thoughts.
“Dad,” I tried again, “I just want to say thank you, for getting me a job, for helping me settle in, and reminding me how to be normal.”
“Sure, Mike, but it wasn’t enough, was it? I can see you putting in effort every single day, but you weren’t happy. That get-together party I arranged when you first arrived, it was a bad idea,” he said.
“It was,” I admitted. “It was just... too overwhelming, too much too soon.”
“I get that now. When things calm down, I'd like to try again, if you give me a chance,” he said.
“Of course, Dad,” I said.
“Come here, son,” he said, pulling me into a hug.
I awkwardly patted his back.
“You take care of yourself while I'm not here,” I told him. “Don't stay out drinking with Stan every night.”
“You bet,” he said, giving me a tired but warm smile. “Go on, your mate and his friend's waiting.”
I was midway out of the kitchen when I finally processed his words. My dad had acknowledged Doyle as my mate.
I looked back at my dad, eyes wide. He looked small and sad to me all of a sudden.
“I... I don't know if I'm good enough to be Doyle's mate,” I whispered, embarrassed by my lack of confidence.
“You're my son. The more important question is whether he's good enough for you,” my dad said, walking up to me and gripping my shoulders.
I smiled at that, then, feeling a lot better, I headed out of the house to join Doyle and Ivan.
"Hey, Michael, how you doing?" Ivan asked as I slid into the backseat of his truck.
"Good," I tentatively answered.
I had the impression Ivan didn't like me that much during my brief stay at Zane's house.
"No need to be so formal, considering you'll be sticking around for a while," Ivan said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
His tone was lighter than I expected, which made me relax a bit.
Doyle turned around in the passenger seat and gave me a reassuring smile.
"We've got everything we need, right?" Doyle asked.
"Yeah, I think so," I replied, though I wasn't entirely sure.
I had packed in such a rush that I felt I must have forgotten something.
The truck rumbled to life, and Ivan navigated the familiar streets away from my dad’s house.
The scenery passed by in a blur as my mind raced.
It was still sinking in that I was leaving home again, but this time, it felt different.
I was leaving to keep dad and the others safe from members of Liliana’s coven.
"You know, Michael," Ivan began after a moment of silence, "we've got your back. All of us. You're not alone in this."
I looked at him, surprised. I wondered if he said that, because I was important to Doyle.
Ivan caught my gaze in the mirror and nodded. His words were sincere, and it felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders.
"Thanks, Ivan," I said, meaning it.
We continued in a comfortable silence for a while, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the events of the past few days.
The decoy car, Morgan snatching me up, and then being back in the safety of my home, only to leave it again so soon.
The whirlwind of emotions left me feeling drained.
"You okay back there?" Doyle asked, his voice gentle.
"Yeah, just... processing everything," I admitted. "It all happened so fast."
"I know," Doyle said, turning to face me more fully. "But you're doing great."
His words were a balm to my frazzled nerves. I gave him a small smile, feeling a bit more grounded.
"I don't know what I'd do without you, Doyle,” I told him.
"You don't have to worry about that," he said, reaching back to squeeze my hand. "I'm not going anywhere."
The rest of the drive passed in relative quiet, the hum of the engine and the occasional comment from Ivan or Doyle filling the space.
We were nearing Sky Stead when I felt a twinge of anxiety again. Would this place truly be safe?
By being here, wouldn’t I just be a danger to Doyle and his pack mates?
As if sensing my thoughts, Doyle turned to me once more.
"It's going to be okay, Michael. You'll see,” Doyle assured me.
I nodded, holding onto his words like a lifeline.
When we finally arrived, the sight of the familiar surroundings brought a mix of relief and apprehension.
"Welcome back," Ivan said, pulling into the driveway. "Let's get you settled."
Doyle opened the door for me, helping me out of the truck.
As I stepped onto the driveway, I took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill my lungs.
Otis and Zane made me feel immediately welcomed. Otis led me to the room I had stayed in before, the one next to Doyle's.
I flushed, remembering how I had eventually ended up staying the night in Doyle's room.
"Is there something wrong?" Otis asked, noticing my hesitation.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and glanced at Doyle.
Summoning my courage once more, I said, "There's no need for separate rooms."
Doyle raised an eyebrow at that, but I could tell he was pleased by my decision.
I wondered if he had wanted the same thing but only agreed to separate rooms because he thought I needed my own space.
"Oh? I see things have been progressing faster than I thought," Otis said, smiling coyly.
I could feel my cheeks heating up.
Doyle slid an arm over my shoulders, possessively pulling me close, and that sent a thrill down my spine.
He kissed me quickly on the mouth.
"Then, I think we'll head inside," Doyle said.
"Alright, I'll let you two settle in. Dinner will be ready soon," Otis said.
"Otis, I think we'll be eating out tonight," Doyle said.
"We are?" I asked.
I wondered if it was rude to refuse having dinner with Zane, Otis, and his family, especially since I was once again a guest in their home.
"I'm taking you out on a date," Doyle said, winking at me. "A real one."
"Alright then," Otis said and promptly left us. “You guys have fun.”
As soon as he was gone, Doyle turned to me, his eyes full of warmth.
"I thought you could use a night out, just the two of us,” Doyle said.
I nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.
"That sounds perfect,” I told him.
We headed into Doyle's room together. It felt like a sanctuary, a place where we could finally relax and be ourselves.
Doyle closed the door behind us and pulled me into his arms.
"You really don't mind sharing a room with me?" he asked softly, his breath warm against my ear.
"Not at all," I replied, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I want to be with you."
Doyle's eyes softened, and he kissed me deeply. I melted into him, feeling the stress and tension of the past few days begin to dissolve.
This was where I belonged, in Doyle's arms, safe and loved.
We spent a few moments just holding each other, savoring the closeness.
Then Doyle pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against mine.
"I want to make tonight special for you, Michael,” he said.
"It already is," I said, smiling up at him.
Doyle's smile widened.
"Let's get ready then. I've got a place in mind that I think you'll love,” he told me.
We spent the next hour getting ready, the anticipation building between us.
I chose an outfit that I hoped Doyle would like, feeling a little self-conscious but excited.
Doyle watched me with a tender expression, his eyes never leaving me.
When we were both ready, Doyle took my hand and led me outside.
The evening air was cool and refreshing, and I felt a sense of freedom that I hadn't felt in a long time.
As we walked to the car, Doyle kept my hand firmly in his, his thumb gently stroking my skin.
It was a simple gesture, but it meant everything to me. Doyle drove us to a cozy little restaurant on the edge of town.
It was charming and intimate, with candlelit tables and a warm, inviting atmosphere.
We were seated in a corner booth, away from the noisier main dining area.
"This is beautiful," I said, looking around in awe.
"I'm glad you like it," Doyle said, taking my hand across the table. "I wanted tonight to be special for us."
"It already is," I repeated, feeling my heart swell with emotion.
We spent the evening talking and laughing, enjoying each other's company.
The food was delicious, but it was Doyle's presence that made the night truly magical.
He listened to me, really listened, and I felt understood and cherished in a way I never had before.
After dinner, we took a walk along the nearby beach, the sound of the waves soothing and calming.
Doyle wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close as we walked.
The moonlight cast a soft glow over the water, creating a perfect backdrop for our evening.
"Thank you for tonight," I said, looking up at him. "It was exactly what I needed."
"Anything for you," Doyle replied, leaning down to kiss me gently.