11. Stellan
STELLAN
I’d replayed the end of my date with Miles all night, and the guy was still in my head this morning, more than twelve hours after our date finished.
It hadn’t gone badly and that was the maddening part. The restaurant I’d chosen was pleasant without being an obvious first-date establishment. We’d chatted about work and life in general, though the summary of my life was missing an important detail.
Me! My bear was peeved Miles and I were still at the talking stage.
The only uncomfortable moment was when he asked if Indigo’s omega father was in the picture.
“No.” I’d glanced away because there was so much more to the story that I couldn’t tell him.
Somewhere between the appetizer and the main course, I’d caught myself thinking that it was easiest I’d felt being with another adult in years.
And I’d ruined it when I walked Miles to his floor and he’d told me how he’d enjoyed the evening. He’d tilted his head up as if expecting a kiss, and I’d panicked and said I had to go.
With a hasty goodbye, I climbed the stairs to my apartment and spent the rest of the night thinking how I’d promised him an explanation about everyone’s reactions in the building, and hadn’t done it.
What I refused to rewind was the moment when it was obvious he was waiting for a kiss and I’d run off like a frightened rabbit.
Nope, I wasn’t going through that again.
“Dad, we’ve run out of milk.”
I’d never been more grateful for Indigo interrupting my thoughts and us having to traipse up and down the aisles of the grocery store. It was the sort of mind-numbing activity that would get me out of my head and thinking about menus for the next week.
My daughter studied the vast array of tuna on the store shelves, even though neither of us liked it. It was the smell I couldn’t stand, and even my bear turned his nose up. But she said Marmalade would love it.
“You know Miles can buy his own cat food.”
And that was the exact moment that the man himself rounded the end of the aisle with a basket over one arm, and he lit up at the sight of us.
“She is partial to tuna.”
I ran my mind over everything I knew about tuna so we could have a conversation that wasn’t about us.
“Miles.” Indigo’s greeting sounded as though it was amplified through the PA system.
“Hi.” I pretended to be studying the shopping list on my phone.
But as my daughter got on tiptoes and reached for the brand of tuna that didn’t snare dolphins in the nets, and Miles said he’d help her, she froze and cans crashed to the floor.
“Dad, I don’t feel right.” She gripped her wrist as she stood in the middle of a tuna catastrophe.
That was code for she couldn’t control her beast.
“Sorry, we have to run.” I flung the words over my shoulder as I left the cart and grabbed Indigo. With a hand on her shoulder, I steered her toward the exit. She was breathing hard, and when I glanced down, fur was sprouting on her hands.
“You’re okay,” I reassured her. “You’re doing great. We’re almost to the car.”
“I don’t want to do this in the parking lot, Dad.”
“Indie, are you sick?” Miles was at our heels, and despite the urgency that we get away from him and other humans, I registered that he’d shortened her name.
“No, she’s fine, but we have urgent business to attend to.”
The supermarket was the one we often frequented because it was close to the apartment and being on the edge of town, the woods were close by making it perfect for shifting.
Ignoring the car and hoping Miles would give up on the chase, Indigo and I sprinted across the parking lot toward the tree line that was just past the grocery store loading docks.
Indigo’s shoes came off because she now had paws as we headed to that patch of trees. I feared this might be her first full shift, but she was only nine. I scooped her up and didn’t look back.
“Stellan!” Miles was closer than I’d expected. I assumed we’d lost him. “Wait, does she need a hospital? I have a first-aid kit in my car. Oh dear gods, are those… where are her feet?”
“Go away, Miles! I can deal with this.”
“I am not leaving while a child is having a medical event.”
I gave up arguing and kept on running, but Miles must have been one of those humans who exercised regularly because he kept pace with us.
“This is so embarrassing, Dad.” Indigo’s voice was lower than normal. “Dad, I think I’m going to—” and she roared.
The noise startled birds on the loading dock roof, and they took off in a frenzied flapping of wings.
“What in the heck was that?” Miles squealed.
I thought for sure that would have him running in the opposite direction, but he was still with us as we reached the cover of the trees and I put Indigo down. It wasn’t a full shift, just fur, paws, and claws, or FC&P as we called it in the bear community.
“That’s n-not Indie.” Miles collapsed beside my daughter. ‘“Or it is, but she’s kinda furry.”
His eyes darted from left to right before he slapped his thigh. “Oh, I get it. I’m being punked.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Or this is like one of those urban adventure races. Whatever your goal is, Indie, you look cool.”
Miles put a hand to his heart. “You really had me going there.”
He sat up and laughed, but the sound died on his lips as the fur vanished and was replaced by my daughter’s skin. The paws and claws disappeared, and Indigo wriggled her ten toes.
“That felt weird.”
Miles slammed back onto the grass. He was still breathing, but his eyes were closed and his cheeks were pale.
“Miles.” My daughter shook him. “Miles, wake up.”
Shit, did I have to resuscitate him?
But he groaned and lifted a hand to shade his eyes. “Maybe I need to see a doctor because I’m hallucinating.”
“It’s just me, Miles.” Indigo patted his hand.
I helped him sit. This wouldn’t have been my choice as to how to introduce him to our shifter world, but that decision had been taken out of my hands.
“I’m going to tell you a tale that is as old as time.”
His brow furrowed. “Don’t spin this as a fairy tale.” He folded his arms.
I started at the beginning when all humans walked on four legs and explained how our path diverted from the rest of humanity. His expression was skeptical at first and he rolled his eyes until my daughter lifted her foot and reminded him she’d had paws a few minutes ago.
“I’m a bear shifter and so is Indigo, but she hasn’t met her beast yet. Until she does, she has what we call teething problems.”
Miles’s face blanched of all color at the mention of teeth.
“And that’s why everyone in the building has been wary of you. There’s never been a human living in Moonridge Place. You’re the first.”
“Lucky me,” he deadpanned.
“Somehow Jon made a mistake.”
Miles’s eyes locked on mine. “Somehow? Have you met Jon?” He laughed, and it came from deep in his belly. Indigo and I chuckled along with him.
Miles got up, and I expected him to walk off, saying, “I need to think about this,” or worse, “I’m packing up and leaving tonight.”
“And what about Indie’s other dad? Is he a bear too?”
I stiffened, but Indigo answered with a “Yes.” I was so proud of my little girl.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
I glanced at my daughter, and she nodded.
“Some shifters have fated mates. One whiff of their scent and they know they’re meant to be together for life. I thought Indigo’s father was my fate until he met his one and only and left.”
“I was four months old.” Indigo plucked some grass as she spoke.
“That sucks.”
My daughter wrapped her arms around me. “It’s okay because I have the best dad in the world.”
We stood, and I gave Indigo a piggyback as she had no shoes.
“Do you need a lift?” We’d brought the car because we had a huge shopping list, but Miles had only had a small basket when we met in the store.
“No. I have my car.”
My daughter waited in the car while I zigged and zagged around the store, trying to remember what we needed because I’d left the phone with her. I did remember tuna.
With everything in the trunk, I turned on the ignition, but my daughter tugged my sleeve. “Miles has been sitting in his car the whole time you’ve been in the supermarket. Do you think he’s okay?”
But as she spoke, Miles got out of his vehicle and trudged toward the building.
Maybe he was taking the shifter revelation harder than I thought.
My daughter asked me to look at her.
“You like Miles, right?”
I nodded, not wanting to have this conversion here.
“But you like like him?”
I sighed and held up my hands in surrender. “Yeah, I like like him.”