Chapter 17 - Bryce
I didn’t remember passing out as soon as I hit a house that wasn’t familiar to me, yet the scent of leather and ash comforted a subconscious part of me that had risen in my fear. All I knew was the protection of the wolf who had watched over me and fought for me.
In my terror, my anger had buried itself, and all I’d known, as I’d tumbled into a deep sleep, was Mason’s scent.
When I woke up, I found myself dressed in one of his hoodies, looking around an unfamiliar room.
It was larger than Jackson’s guest room, and I was in a king-sized bed surrounded by white sheets.
The curtains were open, and I felt Cassie shift next to me.
Groaning awake, my daughter’s eyes blinked awake. She looked confused for a moment before sitting up.
“Where are we?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
“I don’t know,” I murmured, gesturing for her to follow me out of bed. I already had a guess that we were in Mason’s house. The distinct smell of bacon wafted upstairs, and Cassie’s stomach growled. My hands still shook in some leftover adrenaline and fear from the djinn that had stormed the car.
The helplessness I’d felt when I realized I would never have been enough to protect my baby alone…
it had been indescribable. I tried to push it aside as Cassie barrelled out of the room, her sense of smell clearly pulling her towards the kitchen downstairs.
I hurriedly followed and came face-to-face with Mason.
I stopped short at the sight of him holding a frying pan, sliding the slices onto a plate. He wore a navy polo shirt and matching gym shorts, his feet clad only in black socks. It was strangely vulnerable, seeing him so casual, in his own home.
“Wolf man!” Cassie squealed, rushing ahead to the table, where she clambered up to the table, taking a seat.
“Cass,” I called quietly, “wait to be invited.”
“I’d think the table full of breakfast is enough of an invitation.” Mason’s voice was quiet, holding a quirk of a tease that I wasn’t quite ready to accept yet. I gave him a weary smile as I moved forward, taking a seat next to Cassie.
“What’s all this?” I asked, taking in the sight of the breakfast buffet. Almost every space on the table was covered—from eggs that were, admittedly, perfectly scrambled in a way I was specific about, to French toast and pancakes drizzled with caramel sauce.
Cassie’s eyes widened as if she’d just found gold, and I ruffled her hair.
“Wait,” I whispered, as she reached for a pancake. I gave her a secretive smile when I pretended not to notice that she slipped one into her mouth anyway.
“It's breakfast,” Mason said, finally sitting down as he set the plate of bacon down in the last remaining spot on the long, polished table. “And an apology. One that will never be enough, but one nonetheless.” His eyes were on me, his brow pinched. “Bryce, you deserve a thousand apologies, and I’ll never find enough words or gestures, but I hope this is a start. I left something for Cassie on the sofa.”
Cassie’s head whipped to the sofa, the blue of them sparkling. “Where?” she cried excitedly, ready to rush over there, but I grasped hold of her, letting out a soft laugh.
“After you eat,” I told her.
“Please,” Mason said, gesturing to the spread. “I can serve her.”
“I can do it,” I said defensively. Turning my eyes from him, I leaned close to Cassie. “What would you like?”
I loaded up her plate as Cassie happily pointed out everything she wanted. One thing I’d never do is allow my own issues with eating and my fear of that judgment, be put onto her. When I’d served her. I shifted awkwardly.
“You made me breakfast,” Mason said quietly, meeting my gaze.
“Now it's my turn to do the same. To serve you would be my honor, Bryce, if you’ll eat with me. I…” He let out a laugh that almost sounded nervous.
“I remembered how you like your eggs scrambled to a specific moment, and no further, so they might go to waste.”
“Guilt-tripping me?” I questioned, betrayal flaring in my chest.
“No,” he said quickly. “More so, letting you know that I see you. I remember you, and want to continue remembering you, knowing you. Knowing Cassie.”
I looked at Mason, properly looked at him. Dark circles lay beneath his eyes, and there was a heaviness to his body, as if he hadn’t slept in a long time. Yet his smile was bright as he watched Cassie dig into her breakfast. There was such innocence in her ignorance of her parents’ dissonance.
Her parents.
That was what we were, wasn’t it? I had to accept it, no matter how upset I was with Mason right now.
“She’s enjoying the food,” he noted. “I like that.”
“I guess she takes after her mom,” I said, surprised at my own joke, and I felt how stricken I was, looking at Mason.
He raised a brow. “I like that, too. Will you eat with me, Bryce?”
I told myself I only nodded because I was dressed in his hoodie that was still roomy on me with how broad he had gotten. It was strange—we may have similar widths, but because he was muscle, and mine wasn’t, I was judged, but he was praised. Admired. But his eyes roved over me in his hoodie.
“Yes,” I answered, my voice quiet.
Only because you’ve gone through the trouble. Except a part of me wanted to stop running, to stop hurting, and I didn’t know if I could trust him for now. I could do this.
“Will you let me serve you?”
“As Mason or alpha?”
The question was loaded.
“As both.”
That eased something in me, and I nodded again. As he loaded up a plate, glancing at me to check he’d put what I wanted on there, I was taken aback by how he remembered all my favorites. It only reminded me of how little had changed about me, even if my life looked so different.
“Only two slices of bacon,” I said quickly, noticing how he went to put a third on. I couldn’t eat too much around him—surely he’d want—
He dropped the third one onto the plate with a frown.
“I want you to eat as you please,” he said as Mason set down my dish in front of me. “I’d like to see you enjoy it all.”
“And you?” I asked. “Are you going to eat with us?”
“After the fight, I went through? Damn right, I am.”
The mention of the fight brought forth the memory of the ifrits, how they’d crowded the car, how they’d all chittered, squealing against the windows, their sounds haunting.
Claws had dragged over glass. I didn’t know what had become of my brother’s car or if Mason had told him while I had slept. So many things to talk about, and yet…
All I wanted to do was enjoy this meal with him.
And the way he looked at Cassie… that wasn’t the look of the betrayed man who had run away from the cave.
Could it be that he was ready to accept what I had done?
Ready to focus on the fact that we had a child together?
My heart rose as I reached for a plate for him.
“Bryce—”
“Let me,” I said gently.
“Not after what I did. I should serve myself.”
“No.” I shook my head. “We could serve one another.”
His eyes flickered, and for a moment, I worried I had said the wrong thing.
But Mason only gave me a small smile as he offered me his empty plate.
Surveying the spread, I let myself unbury my memories of him, recalling how he liked cinnamon—not sugared—French toast, so I loaded that up around the edge, and then there were rolls of crepes filled with banana and strawberries.
Cassie reached for a can of whipped cream and made a swirl of that right over the crepe, giggling.
“Thanks, Cassie,” Mason laughed. “You want to help your mom pick my breakfast?”
“I think you should have these.” She jabbed a finger towards the scrambled eggs.
Mason snorted. “Here’s a secret, Cassie. Your mom has the worst taste in those. They taste like liquid goop.”
“They do not!” I cried, finding myself laughing despite myself.
For a moment, we all laughed, and the fear from the ifrit fight, and the anger and betrayal—it all slipped away.
Cassie’s tiny giggles made me happy to hear, and I reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.
I finished loading Mason’s plate. His eyes met mine with meaning as I set it down before him.
You know, in some parts of shifter existence, a female member of the pack making the alpha food means that—
“Cassie, I have something to tell you.” Mason’s voice cut over the table, stopping my thoughts. He’d put his fork and knife down. Cassie put on her best serious, listening face, nodding. Tears shone in Mason’s eyes, and my heart rose in hope.
Could it…
Was I allowed to hope?
A second passed where I let myself imagine this: a normal morning in the Warwick-Calloway household, the three of us a small family, maybe as we always should have been. As I’d always wanted.
I tried to breathe deeply, in and out, as Cassie cleared her throat.
“Actually,” she said, very matter-of-fact, “I think I know what you’re going to say. You’re my dad, aren’t you?”
Silence fell over the table. My heart pounded, and I could only look at her, as did Mason.
Cassie continued eating like it was all so normal.
“I felt something ever since you came into the cottage to fight the shadow. It kept getting stronger every day, especially when you came over. But it was like I could always feel when you were near. Right here.” She pushed into her sternum, smiling.
“It was strange. I always asked Mommy who my dad was, and I always thought I would know immediately as I saw him, but I didn’t. Not at first, at least.”
“Oh, Cassie,” I murmured. I should have told her. I should have told them both. A wave of selfishness and guilt punched through me so strongly. I couldn’t bear to look at Mason, knowing he’d be thinking the same thing. “I’m sorry.”