Game, Umbra, Match A Short Story
(Timeline: Several months after Cherish ends)
Hudson
“I’m sorry I can’t stay,” I tell the others as they settle around our dining table in an impromptu gathering.
“Don’t worry about it,” my arsehole brother says with a grin as he grabs the pitcher of water next to my mate. “It’s not like we’ll miss you.”
There’s no heat in the statement and none in the one-finger salute I shoot back at him.
But just because Jaxon and I are getting along these days doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy taking the piss out of each other.
We’re brothers, after all. And he did try to kill me…
something that I believe still requires a regular fuck off.
“I’ll miss you.” Grace beams as she reaches up to pull me down for a short kiss that turns longer because she’s Grace and I never want to stop kissing her. Or holding her. Even though we’ve been together for well over a year now, some days—and by that I mean most days—I can’t believe she’s mine.
She pulls away before I’m ready—because I’m never ready to let her go—and presses a small bag into my hands. “Don’t forget these. I picked them out just for her.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her Smokey won’t touch the ribbons if they have Grace’s scent on them, so I just nod and slip them into the brown leather messenger bag I’ve got slung over my shoulder—right next to an identical bag of ribbons I picked out for her the other day.
I lean down to give Grace one more kiss. She tastes like cherries and sunlight, and part of me wants to stay right here forever. But we’ve got forever, or the closest thing to it, and Smokey is waiting for me.
This time I’m the one who pulls away reluctantly. Grace holds on, pushing up to her tiptoes so she can press one last kiss against my mouth.
“Get a room, will you?” Flint snorts from his spot at the table next to Jaxon.
“Pretty sure we did when we bought this townhouse,” Grace says with a roll of her eyes.
Flint just smiles at her, his amber eyes lighter than I’ve seen them in a while. Then again, it looks like he and Jaxon have finally gotten everything figured out. Just in time, too, because the rest of us had just begun plotting how to lock the two dipshits in a room together.
“Give Smokey a hug for me,” Macy says as she holds out a small velvet pouch. “And this. I got it for her in Galveston.”
“Thanks,” I tell her as I make my way to the sliding glass door that leads to the backyard—and the shortcut to the Shadow Realm Macy created once Grace found a way to break down the barrier between our worlds.
I’m grinning like a fool as I slide through the portal.
Two years ago, I never could have dreamed that I’d have a mate, a mostly great relationship with my brother, a group of friends who actually trust me and whom I trust in return, and an umbra who loves to play Ping-Pong.
It’s enough to make even a cynic like me feel good.
As I step out of the portal and into the Shadow Realm, it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the entire world being purple around me. But then Smokey hurls her small body into my arms so hard that I nearly lose my balance. The umbra may be tiny, but she is definitely mighty.
Her happy chitters fill my ears as she claps her little shadow hands on my cheeks. “I’ve missed you, too,” I tell her because it’s true. It’s only been three days since I was here last—I try to come at least twice a week—but that doesn’t stop me from missing Smokey or her from missing me.
“I brought you a present,” I say, reaching into my backpack with my free hand.
Her chitters turn into squeals as I pull out the bag of multicolored ribbons I picked up for her at the mall last week. She doesn’t wait for me to give it to her and instead dives straight in so that ribbons fly in all directions around us.
She latches onto a long, glittery hot pink ribbon and spins herself around until she’s all caught up in it. Then she faces me again so I can admire her.
“You look aces,” I tell her as I try to gather the other ribbons off the ground where they’ve fallen. But she keeps grabbing them back from me until I stop trying. “Absolutely cracking.”
Smokey’s too dazzled by the pile of ribbons on the ground to pay any attention to my compliments. Instead, she dives through them over and over again, squealing with glee the entire time.
Eventually, she starts to wind down, so I squat and help her shove the ribbons back into their bag. “I brought you another present.”
Instead of exciting her, the comment has her eyes narrowing and a low, hissing sound coming from the back of her throat.
“No, this one’s not from Grace,” I tell her as I reach for the other present I packed in my bag last night.
As I do, I make the judicious decision to leave Grace’s most recent attempt at peace right where it is.
Immediately, the hissing stops and the excited chitters are back.
I shake my head in amused resignation. One of these days, Smokey is bloody well going to have to get over her unreasonable hatred of my mate. But today is definitely not going to be that day. “Last time we were here, you liked playing Ping-Pong so much that I got you your very own paddle.”
I pull out the sparkly pink paddle I ordered, and Smokey falls over in delight. When she’s recovered, she scampers up my leg to snatch the paddle from my hand and then takes off running toward the new rec center that Mekhi has spent the last several months spearheading.
It opened two weeks ago, complete with every activity a kid could want, and while Smokey and I have tried out almost everything, Ping-Pong is definitely her favorite.
I follow her zigzagging path through the crowded center to the room with the air hockey, foosball, and Ping-Pong tables, and I sigh in relief when I see that one of the Ping-Pong tables is open.
Last week, I had to spend half my time here explaining to Smokey the importance of sharing and waiting her turn.
She wasn’t a fan.
Smokey picks her side of the table and then chitters at me to hurry up—besides Grace, she’s the only person I’ve ever met with the nerve to rush me. It should annoy me, but instead it just makes me grin.
I pick up a paddle from the table—Smokey’s the only one who gets her own signature paddle—but before I can so much as get into position, a ball comes flying at me. Apparently, the lesson on patience didn’t stick…
But I’m not a vampire—with a vampire’s reflexes—for nothing. I hit the ball back and, in my haste, send it soaring right past Smokey to smack the wall behind her.
Damn it.
Her happy chitters turn to wails as she settles down onto her side of the table. Tears are flowing, her little round body is shaking, and her paddle is drooping.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, scooping the ball up from the corner before picking her up and patting her back. “I didn’t mean to hit it so hard.”
She glares at me, a stubborn look on her little face as she chitters away, gesturing angrily.
“I know that wasn’t nice of me,” I agree when she finally calms down. “But it also wasn’t nice of you to hit it when I wasn’t ready.”
Her face clouds up again, and I want nothing more than to let her hit the ball straight into me or off my side of the table a million times.
But I can’t be here with her every second, and Smokey’s got to learn how to play nice with others.
My father is a prime example of what happens when someone doesn’t…
So instead of letting her spiral into another meltdown and giving her whatever she wants, I hold the ball up and say, “Want to try again? This time, count to five and hit the ball, and I promise I’ll be ready.”
Smokey looks suspicious, but she takes the ball anyway. I fade to the other side of the table as fast as I can and just barely get there in time—she definitely counted to three instead of five. But she’s still learning, so I take the win.
Just like I take all the other wins in my life lately. Grace. Smokey. Relationships with my arse of a younger brother and my unhinged younger sister. Friends like Macy and Remy and even Flint, who has stopped hating me most of the time.
Smokey chitters at me again, louder this time, and I realize it’s my turn to serve. I know I should play fair. Just like I know Smokey needs to learn that she can’t win every game. But I figure she’s got time to learn that. For now, I just want to see her happy.
So I do a soft—and by soft, I mean the softest—serve, and I smile as she dives for the ball and sends it soaring back over the net at me. I return it gently, then grin as we hit it back and forth.
Fifteen minutes later, it’s game point—Smokey’s, of course—and she launches her serve straight at me. It slams over the net and straight into my forehead. Smokey gasps, her little hands flying over her mouth as her eyes get huge. Even before the ball bounces back across the table at her.
I expect her to hit it back for the win, but she’s already sliding across the table and over the net to get to me, ball and paddle forgotten as she gently pats my forehead. She chitters quietly the whole time, her breath catching and her little shoulders shaking.
My heart melts at her apology—and the way she lost all interest in her hard-won game the second she thought I was hurt.
“I’m okay,” I assure her as I swing her onto my shoulders and reach across the table for her discarded paddle.
“Though I’ve got to say, that was the most impressive game point I’ve ever seen. ”
Smokey giggles, bouncing up and down and clapping her hands on the top of my head as we turn toward the playground. Her tears disappear and her sad chitters have turned to squeals even before we step outside and realize a swing is free.
Looks like I know exactly how the next hour is going to go. And I can’t say I mind. After all, if you’d asked me a year ago if I ever thought I was going to end up here—not just in this place, but in this life—I would have laughed in your face.
But here? Now? I’ll take every single win life hands me and be fucking grateful. Smokey. Jaxon. Izzy. And Grace, always and forever Grace. I may not deserve this happily ever after, but I’m taking it. And I’m never, ever letting go.