20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
Ryan
S aturday dawned gray and bleak.
Yet I didn’t feel that way.
Memories of the night before flooded back. The first thing I remembered was Stanley’s unadulterated joy at discovering he and Justin were finally going to be able to adopt Opal. To make her their own. To solidify their family.
My father had never—not one single time—looked at me like that. The love in Stanley’s face as he’d hugged Justin, and then as he’d hugged his little girl. The men had decided not to tell her in that moment. They figured somewhere quiet and private. Hell, she likely wouldn’t understand what it meant. Or she might wonder about the mother who was giving her up.
That took bravery. Opal’s mother for giving up a child for their own good. Stanley and Justin for telling Opal she was adopted and dealing with the fallout. Opal, eventually, for handling that her mother gave her up.
Your mother gave you up.
Not the same thing. She left me alone with him. That wasn’t bravery. That was cowardice.
Although maybe I’d been too quick to judge all these years. Father was an impossible man to live with. As I’d witnessed for twenty-five years. I’d survived because I’d stayed out of his way. My mother might not have had that option. And I’d assumed she’d chosen not to have contact with me all this time. What if that was a lie as well? What if she’d wanted it and he had forbidden it?
I rolled out of bed, relieved to only feel a twinge in my chest.
Maybe I could write to her—
I stopped.
Just a twinge.
Slowly, I replayed the last few days. Sure, I’d been as protective of my chest as I always was…but I hadn’t had a major pain breakthrough episode. Simeon giving me easy but meaningful tasks helped so much. I was helping, but not overdoing it. I’d carried on and, almost as if it needed to happen this way, when the psychological issues came to the fore, the physical ones receded.
That’s just silly.
Still, I made a mental note to discuss this when I saw Marcus on Monday.
The cold of the floor was seeping through my feet, and I headed to the bathroom. After a pleasant shower, I dried off quickly and headed back into the main room. I chose a button-down and added a sweater to go with my jeans and sneakers. I tended to run cold these days. Being slender didn’t help. Neither did the fact I’d been cold so often during the war. Winters were brutal, summers relatively short, and somehow I only remembered being frequently chilled.
We tried to ignore our surroundings by singing a mashup of Christmas carols. That was difficult to do with the sounds of war interrupting. My favorite song was always “Silver Bells”. Something about Christmastime in the city. I missed my city. I missed my home. Our goal was just to come home and snuggle under warm blankets while it snowed outside. To rediscover the creature comforts we’d always enjoyed—and to never take them for granted again.
Deciding a decent breakfast was in order, I put on my peacoat and headed out for a stroll downtown. I could’ve picked Timmie’s, but I had a hankering for French toast. That meant, if memory served, Fifties. I could get a waffle at White Spot, but that walk was too far, and I didn’t feel like getting in the car. No, fresh air was the way to go.
The low clouds hid the mountains today, and I had this weird feeling—I knew they were there, but I couldn’t see them. Just like I’d known the enemy was in a specific place, but I couldn’t see them. I had to trust the intelligence and send the drone.
Who knew all those game-playing skills would come in handy?
I hadn’t gone overseas to be a drone operator. I figured plenty of guys in Ukraine played video games. Turned out, though, I had a knack for it. Probably how I’d survived so long—I hadn’t been on the combat front lines. I’d killed…but I hadn’t witnessed it.
What I had seen, though… Mangled bodies. Children. Women. Soldiers.
Grandparents.
All killed by the enemy in some hellbent mission to take over another sovereign nation.
I couldn’t fathom it. I couldn’t see America just deciding one day to invade Canada. And maybe that was a lack of imagination on my part. The enemy said they had a prior claim. I didn’t see it. Ukrainians had lived for decades in peace and as a separate country. Of course they didn’t want to be invaded.
My step faltered.
This isn’t going to end well.
No, these spiraling thoughts rarely did.
As much as I wanted to pick up the pace, I didn’t want to push too hard. Instead, I tried to pay attention to the shops. Even as I had that thought, I caught sight of Lena opening the gift shop.
She spotted me and waved.
I waved back.
“One second, okay?” she called.
“Uh, sure.” I hadn’t intended to go in, but now I had more people I could buy presents for. I wouldn’t think about the fact I was spending my father’s money.
Eventually I’ll find a job. Eventually I’ll be self-sufficient. That day wasn’t today, but I wasn’t going to stress about it.
Lena poked her head out the door. “I shut off the alarm. Do you want to come in?”
“Uh…” Why not? “Yeah, I’d love that. You sure you don’t need to set up?”
She shook her head as I followed her into the store. “Nah. I always leave everything organized. Clark worked last night, and he’s as anal retentive as I am. Everything’s perfect.” She clapped her hands together. “I just got a new Tessa Carlyle. Any chance I can interest you?”
Immediately, my gaze went to the spot on the wall where my painting had hung a week ago. My breath caught. “A snowy owl?”
“Yes. Tessa alternates between erotic works, landscapes, and nature. Animals in particular. She claims she can’t pick a lane and stick to it. Given how talented she is, I have no complaints.”
“I’m curious about her erotic paintings. I mean, I’m absolutely buying this piece, but I’m wondering what else she might come up with.”
“You didn’t check out her website? Did I not give you the address? Let me find a business card…”
As she wandered back to the counter, a bead of sweat trickled down my back. Shouldn’t have worn the sweater. I’m too warm.
Right, because that’s the real problem.
“Uh, maybe just the painting?” I cleared my throat.
Lena stopped her hunt. “Of course.” She moved out from behind the counter. “You’d like it wrapped again?”
“Do you…” Breathe. “It’s a Christmas present for a friend.”
“Oh, even better.” She rubbed her hands in evident glee. “I love this time of year. Was there anything else?”
I rubbed my forehead. “A four-year-old girl? And a couple…well, they’re married. He’s older than his husband…” Right, because being inarticulate’s going to help.
“Do you mean Maddox?”
I blinked.
She grinned. “He’s not the only older married gay man in town…”
“No, uh…” God, could you make this any worse? “Oh, yes to something for Maddox as well. I meant Stanley and Justin—”
“Oh.” She giggled. “I still can’t believe Maddox and Stanley are living on the same street. After that nasty split? But Maddox forgave Stanley, and now everyone’s friends.”
She said these things as if gossip were a pastime. Wasn’t that supposed to be Sunshine Dixon’s job?
“Oh, are you getting something for Angus? I have the perfect idea for Opal—oh, unless you’re getting her a book.”
“I’d thought…” I considered. “I know what I’m getting Angus. I hadn’t thought of a book for Opal, but that’s a good idea.”
Lena moved back toward the Indigenous display. “Okay, I have some ideas for the couples.”
And she did. I dutifully followed her, spent plenty of my father’s money, and planned to head back here after breakfast to pick up my treasured gifts.
My next stop was The Owl’s Nest where Dickens was only too happy to introduce me to the children’s books of a local Indigenous author, and he helped me select the perfect one for Opal.
You can’t just keep spending your father’s money for the rest of your life. You need a job and self-sufficiency.
Yeah, I did. But I wasn’t there yet. In some ways, I was getting better faster than I anticipated.
Sarabeth waved me to a booth—the only empty one in the place—but I took a stool at the counter so I wouldn’t take precious real estate from her. She cast me what I could only describe as a grateful look. Does she work here all the time? That must be rough.
I was certain Simeon had left a big tip, but I’d do the same. Every little bit helped.
As I perused the menu, my mind cycled back to the fact I was getting better. I hadn’t had a twinge of pain yet today, despite the walk. I’d dealt with Lena, Dickens, and was now in a restaurant without a panic attack. I was heading to a cocktail party with a bunch of guys and a passel of kids. All this felt…hopeful.
“What can I get you, Simeon’s friend?”
I grinned at Sarabeth’s cheekiness. “I was thinking French toast, but I’m going with the scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast, turkey bacon, and fried tomato slices.”
She nodded her approval. “Very healthy.”
As she snagged the menu, I gripped it for just a moment longer. “I’m Ryan.” I thought I’d introduced myself before, but she had so many people coming through the door, I couldn’t expect her to remember my name.
“Ryan.” She grinned. “I won’t promise to remember—lots of people go through here—”
“It’s okay.”
“But you’re staying in Mission City?”
I nodded.
“Then I’ll do my best.”
She headed into the kitchen to place the order, and I took a moment to reflect. Healthy food at a diner was still served at a diner . A step, though. I hadn’t been watching what I’d been eating since eating was such a big deal. I wanted to be a healthy weight. Not scrawny and sickly…but not overweight and unhealthy. I don’t even know what that approximate weight is. Better ask Dr. Raymond or Marcus.
And damn, I didn’t get something for Adam and Dean.
They wouldn’t be expecting anything, I was certain. But they’d been incredibly kind and welcoming to me last night—a stranger. Also, and this meant more than I could put weight into, they clearly adored Simeon. Their kindness toward him was evident. But not in a paternalistic way. No, more like good friends. Adam had hinted there was a story behind their first meeting—and I intended to tease that out of him tonight.
After a hearty, and healthy, breakfast. I headed back to The Owl’s Nest to pick up Opal’s book—which Dickens had lovingly wrapped. Then to the gift store where Lena had everything organized. I selected something for Dean the Aussie and Adam the former recluse—something he’d spoken freely to me about. Had he known I’d been headed in that direction before I met Simeon? Had he sensed that was very much my life as I’d grown up? I didn’t have a good answer…but I felt certain, if Adam was interested, that we could be friends.
And Aussie Dean was a hoot.
Lena helped me select a few generic gifts and promised to wrap them as I went home and prepared for the late-afternoon festivities. As promised, she’d wrapped the Carlyle painting. I’d keep that tucked aside and give it to Simeon closer to Christmas.
Because I’m going to be here for Christmas. And beyond. Mission City is my new home. And Simeon is…my new friend.
Happy prospects and new possibilities indeed.