7. Doyle
CHAPTER SEVEN
DOYLE
I watched Michael and his father drive away, my heart heavy.
"Don't let him take Michael," my dragon urged, but I shook my head.
Michael belonged with his father, with his family. It was the right thing to do, no matter how much it pained me.
I stood there for a while, watching the dust settle on the gravel road long after their car disappeared from sight.
Every fiber of my being wanted to run after them, to claim Michael as mine and never let him go.
But I knew I had to let him find his own way, even if it meant losing him.
With a deep sigh, I finally turned away and got into my truck. The drive back to Zane's house felt longer than usual.
My chest tightened with each passing mile, and all I could picture was Michael's face—lost and uncertain, so scared to return to his old life.
He should be with me. I'll help him heal, I thought, but I knew I was being selfish.
He needed his family, a piece of his old life to ground him.
I pulled into Zane's driveway and parked my ride, but I couldn't bring myself to go inside.
My dragon was straining under my skin, restless and unhappy with my decision.
The beast wanted to take flight, to search for Michael and bring him back where he belonged.
With me. Unable to stay still any longer, I decided to drive out to the woods instead.
Maybe spreading my wings would help keep my emotions in check and give me a new perspective.
The drive to our usual spot was a blur, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Michael.
When I finally arrived, I parked the truck and stepped out, the familiar scent of pine and earth filling my senses.
I undressed quickly, folding my clothes and placing them on a rock before letting the change come over me.
Bones shifted and grew, scales replaced skin, and soon I stood as my dragon self, feeling the cool breeze rustle through my wings.
With a powerful leap, I took to the sky, the ground falling away beneath me.
The freedom of flight always brought clarity. The wind whipped past, carrying away some of the heaviness in my heart.
I soared higher, the landscape below shrinking until the worries and cares of the world seemed insignificant.
Up here, I could think clearly. Michael's face kept haunting me, though.
His smile, the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, and the vulnerability he showed when he talked about his past.
I wanted to be the one to protect him, to help him rebuild his life.
But I had to respect his choice to reconnect with his father, no matter how much it hurt.
I flew for hours, circling the mountains and valleys until my wings grew tired.
The sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.
As I descended, the ground came back into focus, and I landed gracefully in the clearing.
The flight had helped, but my heart still ached. Dressing slowly, I gathered my thoughts.
Maybe Michael needed time to realize where he truly belonged. Maybe he would come back. All I could do was wait and hope.
As I drove back to Zane's house, I made a silent promise to myself and to Michael.
I would be there for him, whenever he needed me, but I’d also be patient. I returned home just in time for dinner.
As I stepped through the door, Zane gave me a once-over and sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling slightly.
“Get a shower first before you join us,” he said, his tone half-amused, half-serious.
I nodded and headed upstairs. The shower felt like a small haven, the hot water washing away the grime and stress of the day.
It gave me a moment to collect my thoughts.
The flight had helped, but my mind kept wandering back to Michael.
Once I was clean and dressed, I went back downstairs to join the rest of the family.
Otis and the kids were already seated, their chatter filling the room. I took my place at the table, trying to focus on the present moment.
As I watched Otis interact with the kids, I couldn't help but picture myself and Michael having our own home and family.
Would Michael want kids?
The thought of little ones running around, filling the house with laughter, made me smile.
It would be a chance to leave my own legacy. But I knew I was thinking too far ahead.
Michael was thousands of miles away, probably enjoying a good meal with his dad and sleeping in his old bed.
What if, over time, Michael forgot about me and realized he didn't need me in his life?
The thought nearly sent me into a panic attack. I regretted not telling Michael how special he was to me, but I didn’t want to overwhelm him.
Michael had already been through so much.
"Doyle, let's have beers after the meal," Zane said, his voice cutting through my train of thoughts.
"Sure," I agreed, grateful for the distraction.
Dinner passed in a blur of conversation and laughter, but my mind kept drifting back to Michael.
What was he doing right now? Was he thinking about me too?
After we finished eating, Zane and I headed out to the back porch, beers in hand.
The night was calm, the stars twinkling above us. We sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping our drinks.
"You seem preoccupied," Zane finally said, glancing over at me.
I sighed, staring at the amber liquid in my bottle.
"I can’t stop thinking about Michael. What if he forgets about me? What if he decides he doesn’t need me in his life?" I blurted.
Zane leaned back in his chair, considering my words.
"Michael’s been through a lot. It’s going to take time for him to heal and find his footing again. But from what I’ve seen, you mean a lot to him too. Give him time, Doyle. If it's meant to be, he'll find his way back to you,” Zane said.
I nodded, appreciating Zane's wisdom.
"I just... I regret not telling him how much he means to me. I didn’t want to overwhelm him,” I admitted.
Zane clapped a hand on my shoulder.
"You did what you thought was best. And you’ll have another chance to tell him. Just be patient,” he said.
We sat in silence again. I took a deep breath, letting Zane's words sink in.
"Anyway, I spoke to Venom. His bears finished their report. Apart from Michael, there were no survivors," Zane said.
For a moment, I felt guilty for just thinking about Michael, but then that guilt turned to rage.
"They found remains in the basement. The witches were holding their captives there," Zane continued. "There's... also additional news."
"Let me guess. There's no evidence of Liliana?" I asked, my voice sharp with anger.
Zane nodded.
"It doesn't surprise me she's still out there. She's always good at evading danger," I said angrily, remembering how terrified Michael was when he spoke about her. "Michael was... her personal familiar."
Zane blinked, surprised by that revelation.
"We should have questioned Michael a little more before he left with his father," he said.
I growled low in my throat, but Zane continued, unperturbed, “he might have information we could use."
I forced myself to calm down, realizing this could be my excuse to contact Michael again.
"We exchanged numbers before he left. I could contact him,” I suggested.
"Good idea, but wait a few days. Let him settle down," Zane said. “A few members of Liliana's coven escaped, but I doubt they’d start anything on their own without their leader."
The thought of those black magic users being out there, free to cause more harm, made my blood boil.
Michael didn’t tell me everything Liliana did to him and the other captives, but recalling how long Michael had suffer under her hands made my heart ache.
"I still can't believe she got away again,” I muttered, feeling frustrated. "Every time we get close, she slips through our fingers."
"She's good at escaping,” Zane agreed. "But we'll catch her eventually. We've taken down some of her key supporters. It's only a matter of time before she makes a mistake."
I clenched my fists, struggling to rein in my emotions.
"Michael, William and the other victims deserve to see her brought to justice. After everything he and the others have been through... they deserve peace,” I pointed out.
"And they’ll get it," Zane assured me. "We'll make sure of it."
The confidence in Zane’s voice gave me reassurance. I thought of how I’d initially mistaken Michael for William.
At first, I even wanted to believe Michael was a reincarnation of him, but that was wrong.
Michael was his own person, with his own quirks and distinct personality.
William’s death nearly destroyed me. Vengeance kept me going, but after so long, I finally found a new reason to keep going.
I took a deep breath, trying to push away the past nd focus on the present.
"You're right. I'll wait a few days before contacting Michael. He needs time to adjust,” I said.
Zane nodded. "Good. In the meantime, we'll keep gathering information. We can't let our guard down,” Zane said.
I agreed, though my thoughts were already drifting to Michael.
I wondered how he was doing, if he was settling in with his father, if he was thinking about me as much as I was thinking about him.
My dragon stirred restlessly inside me, impatient and frustrated.
I knew it would take every ounce of my strength to stay focused and patient.
"One step at a time," I reminded myself, echoing Zane's earlier advice. "We'll get there."
Zane clapped a hand on my shoulder.
"We would finish what we started all those years ago, Doyle,” Zane told me.
As I returned to my room, my mind was still buzzing with thoughts of Michael and the unfinished business with Liliana.
Just as my head hit the pillow, my phone beeped.
I picked it up from the nightstand and smiled when I saw Michael's name flashing across the screen. I immediately answered.
"I hope you don't mind me calling you at such a late hour," Michael began.
I glanced at the wall clock in front of my bed.
"It's 11 pm, not late at all," I said.
"Oh, right... I guess I just wanted to hear your voice. Is that bad?" Michael asked, a little uncertainly.
"I'm glad you called," I said. "Did something happen? Are you hurt?"
I realized that should have been the first question I asked.
"Nothing like that," Michael said. "I wanted to hear a familiar voice. Everything here feels foreign."
He went on to tell me how nothing about the house he grew up in had changed.
His dad had never touched his bedroom, so the posters he hung in high school were still up.
Dinner with his dad was awkward because they didn't have much to talk about.
"That's normal," I reassured him. "It will take time for you to adjust, especially after being gone for five years."
"You're right," Michael said. "I'll try harder."
"Don't push yourself too much," I advised. "Healing takes time. Be patient with yourself."
"Thanks, Doyle," he said softly. "Talking to you helps more than you know."
"Anytime, Michael," I replied. "I'm always here for you."
There was a brief silence, and then Michael spoke again.
"I miss you already,” he said.
Those words sent a warmth through my chest.
"I miss you too," I admitted. "But we'll see each other soon. Take things one day at a time."
"Okay," he said, sounding a little more at ease. "I'll do that."
"Goodnight, Michael," I said.
"Goodnight, Doyle," he replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
As I ended the call and placed the phone back on the nightstand, I felt a renewed sense of purpose.
Michael was back in his old life, but he still needed me. And I needed him just as much.
For the first time in a long while, I felt like I had something to look forward to again.