Mesmerized By the Mothwoman (Fated Dates)

Chapter 1

CAIDEN

M y phone dings, but I don’t recognize which app is associated with that particular tone. I would check, but my four-year-old nephew, Artie, currently clutches the device in his sticky hands, trying to pick a video to watch.

“Hello? Caiden?” Callie snaps her sun-kissed fingers in my face. “Are you listening to me?”

I blink at my younger sister. “I’m sorry. I was just?—”

“Not paying attention, I know,” she says, tucking a blond lock of her shoulder-length bob behind her ear. “I’m throwing a lot at you, so I don’t blame you for spacing out.”

“It’s okay.” I shake my head. “Just tired.” As if to punctuate my point, I release a large yawn despite my best efforts to smother it.

Callie squeezes my arm. “I appreciate you fucking up your sleep schedule to see me and Artie.”

I grin. “No problem. You know I love seeing you two.”

And I mean it. I love Callie and Artie with my whole heart, and I don’t get to see them nearly as much as I want to. Working as the Chief of Security at The Den—the swankiest nightclub in Nashville—is fun, but it also means I’m practically nocturnal. A far cry from the schedule of Callie, a middle-school gym teacher, and her preschool-aged son. Usually, I’m just laying down to sleep by the time Callie starts waking up.

But whenever they ask to visit, I never turn them down, even if it means waking up way earlier than I normally would. I would never miss out on a chance to play Lego with Artie. In fact, the first thing he did when he walked through the door of my home was run straight to the chest of Lego blocks I have in the corner of my living room. He then proceeded to dump them all over the meticulously clean floor with a delighted giggle and asked me to play with him.

I don’t mind though. One look around my modest home will reveal that the only items on the white walls are pictures of my family and hand-made gifts from Artie. My nephew means the world to me. He’s the closest thing to a son I have.

When he asked if he could see my phone while rubbing his eyes, I knew he must be tired. It was our routine. Play until he’s exhausted and then hand over my phone so he can watch YouTube Kids while Callie and I catch up.

Callie’s eyebrows pinch together. “It’s great you carve out time to see us, but when was the last time you spent time with friends?”

“Just five minutes ago.” I nod toward Artie.

“That doesn’t count,” she says with a scoff.

I shrug. “Artie’s my best friend.”

She smirks. “Cute, but I meant adults. Ever since you and Vickie split, all you do is work, go to that kickboxing gym, and hang out with me and Artie.”

“Hey!” I hold a hand over my heart. “I also enjoy the occasional hockey game.”

“How could I forget?” Callie chuckles. “You and your precious hockey.”

“We are winning the Stanley Cup this year.” I nod with confidence. “I just know it.”

“Whatever you say,” Callie muses.

My jaw drops. “You don’t believe me?”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

Callie points at me. “The point is that you need to get back out there.”

I groan. “We’re doing this again?”

“I know Vickie really fucked you over.” She sighs. “But it’s been five years. It’s time to move on.”

Victoria, my ex-wife, told me after five years of marriage that she was done and was leaving me for a younger man she met in her Pilates class. Honestly, good for her. We lost our spark before we even got married, hoping that tying the knot would reignite our fire.

Instead, the stress of the wedding and trying to build a life together in legal matrimony extinguished anything remotely warm between us. We just weren’t a good fit. I wanted it to work. If there’s one thing about me I’m most proud of, it’s my conviction, and I firmly believe that once you commit yourself to something, you give it your all. And I really gave my marriage to Victoria everything I had.

Despite my best efforts, she always acted like I was something that needed fixing. Probably because while I was willing to put effort into our relationship, I wasn’t willing to change who I was as a person for her. According to her, I needed a better job with better pay, a different mindset, and goddess forbid I get yet another tattoo. I honestly don’t know what she saw in me.

Is it too much to ask for someone who loves me for me? Or am I just too stuck in my ways?

It would have been easy to blame it on youth for why I married someone who obviously wasn’t a good fit for me. But it was a combination of pressure from society and the desire to settle down that resulted in such a loveless union.

And now Callie has been pestering me to try dating again. She means well, and I appreciate her looking out for me, but I’m not dating again unless it’s the real thing. Call me a romantic, but I want true love. I want magic. I want soul mates.

“I just don’t feel ready yet,” I say with a scowl.

Callie throws her hands in the air. “When will you be ready? When hell freezes over?”

“Whenever I meet The One,” I respond, my tone and expression serious.

“How are you going to meet The One if you don’t meet new people?” she asks with a quirked brow.

I pause. Well, shit. She has a point. How am I going to meet the love of my life if I don’t at least try?

“I guess I always imagined that fate would bring us together,” I admit.

Callie’s expression softens. “Always the idealist. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

I shrug. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of optimism.”

“No, but …” She bites her lower lip.

“But what?”

“The world doesn’t work that way.” She sighs. “Do me a favor and try one thing this week to meet different people. Maybe a new class or, I don’t know, sign up for a dating app or something.”

I bury my face in my hands. “There are so many dating apps out there. It’s like they create a new one every week.”

Callie giggles. “That just means you have more opportunities to meet The One.”

“Who’s the optimist now?” I tease with a smile.

“Must have gotten it from my big brother.” She grins back.

The hope in her eyes makes my heart melt. Callie just wants to see me happy.

“I’ll think about it,” I promise.

“Excellent!” She bounces in her seat. “I expect a report back during our next visit.”

“Fine,” I agree with a sigh. Knowing Callie, she’s going to want to creep through the profiles of whoever I match with.

She nods toward Artie on the sofa next to me. “He’s out.”

And sure enough, my nephew has fallen asleep. I brush my fingertips over the tight coils of his dark brown curls. “Do you need help getting him to the car?”

“That would be great.” Callie’s shoulders sag in relief.

I lift Artie into my arms, careful not to jostle him. After carrying him to my sister’s SUV, I buckle him into his car seat and kiss his forehead.

“I love you, buddy,” I whisper.

He doesn’t stir, but that’s okay. What matters is the time we spent having fun together. Those are memories that will stay with him and last a lifetime.

Callie places a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Everything?” I quirk a brow. “What do you mean?”

“For listening to me about finally getting back out there.”

“I said I would think about it,” I correct her.

She waves a hand to brush me off as she opens the door to the driver’s seat. “We both know you won’t let down your little sister.”

“You have a lot of faith in me,” I respond with a wry smile.

“That I do.” She climbs into her SUV. “Until next time.”

“Until next time.”

Callie closes the door and I tap the roof of the vehicle to send her off. I wait until her and Artie are out of sight before I turn around and head back inside, pausing to admire my flower beds. While working nights makes it hard to get any landscaping done, it’s one of my favorite activities when I have a day off. I take great pride in the appearance of my East Nashville home with its large shady trees and lush green grass.

As much as I love it when my sister and nephew visit, I’m exhausted. I need sleep immediately if I’m going to function at all tonight. The mess Artie made with the Lego bricks can wait. It’s time for bed.

I fish my phone from between the couch cushions and practically stumble into my room. Bless the black-out curtains I invested in with my first paycheck from The Den back when I was just a bouncer. They make my room pitch black, except for the Darth Vader night-light in the corner.

After stripping down to just my boxer briefs, I collapse onto my bed with a satisfied sigh. I close my eyes, ready to drift off to sleep, when I remember to double-check that my alarm is set. With a groan, I open my eyes and unlock my phone.

Instead of being greeted by my wallpaper featuring my childhood dog, Blue—a large fluffy gray mutt—an app pops up.

Kismeet.

What the fuck?

I have never seen this app before.

The app finishes loading to reveal a questionnaire. Absolutely baffled, I scroll through the questions, which are your basic ‘About Me’ questions from my favorite genre of music (punk) to my perfect meal (a juicy Impossible burger with cheese and a heaping side of piping-hot seasoned fries, thank you very much).

“What are you looking for in a partner?” reads the last question on the page.

Oh.

It’s a dating app. How the fuck did that get here?

Did Artie accidentally download it? That doesn’t make any sense. He would have needed my thumbprint. And I sure as shit didn’t download it.

This is creepy.

I exit the app and navigate to the icon, ready to remove Kismeet from my phone. But as my thumb hovers over the “delete” button, Callie’s words about needing to meet new people echo in my head.

Shit.

With a sigh, I reopen Kismeet and proceed with filling out the questionnaire. When I get to the last question about what I’m looking for in a partner, I pause. The honest answer is that I want a connection that is undeniable, as if we are brought together by fate.

I’ve always been envious of Gary, one of the wolven bouncers at The Den. Wolvens believe in fated mates and Gary found his mate, Larry, not long after leaving his pack when reaching adulthood. Gary and Larry. Everyone teases them for having rhyming names, but they get a tender, far-off look in their eyes whenever you mention it.

Why don’t I have a fated mate? Why did I get stuck in a marriage that was doomed to fail before it even began? Does my conviction to be myself really make me that unlovable? But there’s no point in dwelling on these questions. I’m just going to have to put in the work like everyone else not blessed enough to have a fated mate.

“I just want to love and be loved.”

There.

Some may call that answer vague, but it’s the honest truth.

The final step is selecting a photo. I scroll until I find the photo of my tattoo artist, Ren, applying the finishing touches on my chest piece. Ren, an orange mushroom fae, is slightly out of focus, but I’m crystal clear with a relaxed smile.

And yeah, I’m shirtless, but I mainly want to show off my rad ink. Besides, it’s one of the only recent photos of me that exists and I’m not about to take a selfie. I prefer to be behind the camera rather than in front of it.

I hit the submit button and wait. Will my answers be good enough for Kismeet? The dating app thing is totally new to me.

With a pleasant ding, the app takes me to an overview of my profile. My eyes linger over the “Home” button. I want to explore potential matches, but if I don’t get some sleep, I’m going to be a mess. It’s Saturday night and I need to be at the top of my game.

I close the app then double-check my alarm before locking my screen.

I’ve done enough for today. Time to get some much-needed rest.