21. Lane
TWENTY-ONE
LANE
Lane returned to Arcadia with Rowan and the other Valeros after Rowan granted Marshall permission to stay within the city for a few days. Lane hadn’t asked, but Rowan seemed to sense his need for a conversation with his father when emotions weren’t so high.
Marshall’s apology, though brief, was enough for now.
He regretted sending Lane away. Perhaps it was the first step in rebuilding their relationship, but even if it wasn’t, even if Marshall disappointed him all over again, Lane would be okay.
He didn’t crave approval as he once had.
He was happy with who he was and where his life was going.
A life Lane didn’t want to end. Leaving Rowan behind when he went to the afterlife wasn’t worth anything.
Magic was important, but he wasn’t defined by what he could do any more than he was defined by his father’s expectations.
Lane wasn’t his powers, and sacrificing one talent didn’t mean he’d be any less himself.
He’d find a new point to build independence around, discover new skills. It might even be exciting to reinvent himself and shed more than his Blackburn association as he stepped into a new life. The possibility thrilled rather than scared him, his future opening up rather than closing off.
“Am I glad to see these four walls again,” he said as they entered Rowan’s bedroom.
Rowan clicked the door shut and paused. “Don’t you hate this room?”
“No. Why would you think I did?”
Rowan’s cheeks darkened. “Your reaction the first time I brought you here.”
Lane closed the distance between them, straining to remember. “What did I say?”
“Nothing. It was your tone. Your surprise.” Rowan averted his gaze. “I thought you were sneering at me.”
“Aww, Rowan. I wasn’t sneering. There’s far more personality in here than the rest of the building. It surprised me in a good way. Everything’s so pretty and delicate. Two things I love about you.”
Rowan grinned. “That does make a hell of a lot more sense.”
“Exactly. We were at each other’s throats then, but you know me better now. All those first impressions were off base.”
“Not all of them.” Rowan’s smile twisted, his eyes glinting. “You’re as hot as ever. I was never mistaken about that.”
“True.” Lane nodded mock-seriously. “I’m incredibly appealing.”
Rowan snorted. “Let’s shower. I’m ready to get to the good part.”
Lane followed him into the bathroom. “Good part? Like being my good boy?”
“I was thinking more like us and everything coming. The beginning of the relationship I’ve always wanted. But we can start with me being good for you. Tell me how you want me, and it’s yours.”
Lane captured Rowan’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Good part indeed.
Lane met his father by the river a few days later. He seemed recovered, his expression stern and familiar, if a little exhausted around the edges. It might have been Lane’s imagination, but he looked grayer.
“Let’s walk. It’s a nice afternoon.” Marshall headed along the riverfront path without waiting for Lane’s response.
Typical. Lane fell into step beside him, keeping the comment to himself. He didn’t expect his father to turn into a completely different person.
Marshall shot him a calculated look. “How did you come to be at Rowan Valero’s side?”
Lane wanted to tip his head back and groan. Rowan was the most pressing thing they had to talk about? Marshall might not be completely different, but couldn’t he do better than returning to the same old conflict?
“Does it matter? Rowan isn’t what you think.”
Marshall’s jaw worked. “I know.”
Lane stopped short. “Excuse me? You’re saying you know Rowan isn’t the dodgy leader you claimed he was?”
Marshall kept walking, forcing Lane to follow. “When you first told me Rowan was trustworthy, I didn’t believe you, but I was wrong.”
The admission was like a slap in the face. Lane had no idea his father had changed his mind. “Did what happened at the warehouse finally convince you?”
“No, it was long before.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“What was the point?” Marshall shook his head. “You knew I was wrong about the Sherwoods. I had my reasons for acting as I did all those years ago, and I stand by my decisions as coven leader. My motivations were pure. I couldn’t have done better at the time.”
Lane wasn’t touching that mess with a ten-foot pole. “It still would have been nice to know you saw the truth about the Valeros in the end. To know you believed me, even if it didn’t change how little you trust me.”
Marshall scowled at the river. “I trust you.”
“You never act like it.”
“What do you mean? I trusted you to go off and make a life for yourself.”
“You’ve never said so. You called my shop a rebellion. Made it sound petty. Your lack of trust was the reason I left to make my life elsewhere.”
“I’m sorry, Lane. I should have done a lot of things differently when it came to you.
I had an obligation to put the coven first, but I never should have exiled you over the Hillman business, even if I was trying to treat you like any other coven member.
After your time away, I couldn’t take your word for it just because you’re my son.
You came home and immediately started undermining everything. ”
“For good reason. The alliance was rotten.”
“I see that now, and I’m sorry. I can try to do better.” He sounded strained but determined.
Lane took a moment to let that sink in. “I appreciate you trying.”
Marshall cleared his throat. “Thank you. Will you come home?”
Lane paused, not because he was considering it. He’d never seen such an anguished expression on his father’s face, and it rattled him. “The life I want is here,” he said, more gently than he’d originally planned. “I’m not looking to earn my place anymore.”
Marshall winced. “Can’t we work on this? I can show my trust better. Listen.”
It had been what Lane always wanted, but he wasn’t sure how well it would work out in reality.
Marshall was grudging to admit he’d never trusted him, and he hadn’t said there was no need for Lane to earn his place.
Even if Marshall’s offer had been perfect, Lane didn’t need this like he once had.
His self-worth wasn’t reliant on how his father treated him.
Theirs might never be the deep, trusting relationship Lane once craved, and he was surprisingly okay with it.
He’d fill that desire elsewhere.
“I’d like to work on our relationship and stay in touch, but I’m not coming with you. I’m making a home here.”
“I see. If that’s what you want, I wouldn’t try to take it away.” Marshall didn’t sound particularly happy, but he seemed to be doing his best. “You can always come home if it doesn’t work out.”
“Thanks.” Lane’s tone was dry. “I’d like to think you’re rooting for me to succeed, not assuming I’ll fail.”
“I am rooting for you, Lane, and I’m sorry I didn’t listen sooner. Just know you always have a place with me. I’ll see if I can work out visitation rights to the city.” He clapped Lane on the shoulder and changed the topic to the last-minute flight home he’d booked.
They chatted about nothing for a while, sitting on a park bench. It was awkward but better than any conversation Lane imagined they’d have again.
After Marshall departed, Lane stayed at the riverside park.
He had an hour to kill before he had anywhere else to be and wanted to get reacquainted with the city he’d once known.
The neighborhoods along the river had always been the section of the city Lane enjoyed most, with their eclectic bars and cafés and less refined atmosphere than the Business District, where Arcadia was located.
Rowan was busy being coven leader today, and had been since they’d returned from the warehouse, but next time he wasn’t, Lane would bring him here for an afternoon. He had a feeling getting out of the building and having a break from all the demands on his time would be good for Rowan.
They both deserved a little peace and quiet after everything.
Rowan wasn’t quite done with the fallout.
Emile was still recovering, and the identity of the second feral vampire had finally been uncovered.
He’d be put to rest, as would the first feral, and Rowan was doing what he could for their families.
Rowan had met with Caden the morning after Cris was killed and discovered the severed sire-bond had taken away the worst of his feral transformation.
His eyes glowed orange rather than white, and he was able to retract his fangs for the first time, but there seemed to be lasting effects on his temperament, and Rowan wanted to keep an eye on him.
He believed Caden would have a harder time adjusting than most vampires and hoped a formal invitation to join the Valero Coven would help. Rowan was resolved to see Caden through whatever came, for as long as Caden wanted to remain with them.
Lane liked the idea of Caden sticking around. He planned to reach out to the young man once things settled. It might be nice for Caden to have a non-vampire friend in the magic world, though Lane didn’t know how long he’d be claiming that title.
He’d made his decision to ask Rowan to turn him, and he didn’t see anything changing his mind. Still, he’d asked Hunter to meet him for a drink in the spirit of talking to someone outside the coven about immortal life.
Lane arrived at Dorthy’s, a little hole-in-the-wall queer bar he remembered well from his last stint in the city. Hunter had suggested they meet there, and looked right at home sitting at one of the outside tables with another man.
“Lane.” Hunter jumped to his feet and gave him a half-hug. Lane was beginning to realize Hunter’s personal style shared a lot of the same notes as a nineties punk rocker, and today was no exception. “Look at you walking around all on your own.”
Lane laughed. “Alive and everything.”
Hunter snorted.
The other man at the table eyed Lane dubiously, his posture stiff. He looked close to forty, his thick-framed glasses and preppy sweater giving off a distinct air of maturity.