Chapter 19 - Yvonne
Perhaps it’s my maternal instinct that kicked into gear to warn me about this, but it couldn’t have prepared me for what I’d feel when the words left Gio’s lips.
How did he even suspect it?
I mean, I can’t put it past him to suspect who his father is, or guess right on the first try. I’ve never had a man in my life, while he was growing up, and only Dawson has been around as a male figure in our lives since we got here.
I can’t put it past my little boy to sense who his father is, anyway. Besides being an alpha’s son, he’s also highly intuitive and tapped into his human emotions, and those of everyone around him.
It makes sense that he’d be suspicious, but I just wasn’t expecting him to be so direct and ask Dawson outright.
Slowly lifting my head, I notice Dawson’s hesitation when he gulps and turns to me as if for a lifeline.
I see it in his eye—the way he’s so hesitant to respond to Gio’s question despite the little boy’s continued stare as he awaits a reply—there’s a softness in his eyes that glows in a gentle shade of blue.
“Yvonne…” Dawson mouths my name without a sound, and I know why he’s hesitating to answer.
It’s something we discussed before, and there’s a level of respect he’s maintaining to ensure that he doesn’t overstep the established relationship between my son and me, just to forge a new one between the two of them.
Something about the silence in this moment is thought-provoking, allowing me to spend a few seconds contemplating my next choice of words. That’s why Dawson hasn’t replied—he’s waiting for me to respond to my son.
Our son.
Then it hits me.
The weight of the truth, and how I can’t allow any more time to pass. Neither Dawson nor Gio deserves to lose time when it’s so precious, and they’ve already lost five years between them that cannot be reclaimed.
Apart from Dawson, I owe it to our son to have both parents in his life, which is why I place my hand gently on his arm as a nudge for him to turn to me.
“Baby…” I begin, leaning in so I can whisper my next words gently. “Dawson is your daddy.”
Gio’s eyes widen, but not out of shock, when the silver depths become lit by a bright sparkle.
“Really?!” he exclaims as he hops to his feet and skips to Dawson’s side. “You my daddy?!”
Dawson chuckles nervously as he turns toward Gio, throwing me a hesitant, sheepish glance as if he’s not sure what to do.
“Y-yeah, I am, Champion,” Dawson whispers tersely. “I’m your dad.”
“Yay!” Gio beams excitedly, suddenly throwing himself forward with his arms out.
Dawson nervously chuckles again as his arms come around Gio, and he looks over our son’s dark head and shrugs as he gives me a feeble half-smile.
I lift my hands up as I shrug, surprised too that this revelation was met so positively by Gio.
“I so happy it you, Uncle Dawson!” Gio beams as he pulls back, but then a hand flies up to cover his mouth. “Oop! I mean, Daddy!”
We all burst out into laughter, and I soon realize that this was probably the best decision I’ve ever made. Though I’ve closed myself off to Dawson, the least I can do is allow him to have a relationship with his son.
After some time, Dawson encourages Gio to go back to his seat and finish the meal. Once we’re done with dinner, I clear up the table and leave the two boys to bond while I prepare dessert.
“I’m guessing this is your favorite, too,” I say as I slide two plates with pecan pie and a generous helping of vanilla ice cream on each across the table.
Dawson’s eyes light up as Gio wiggles in his chair with excitement.
“Pecan pie! My favorite!” Gio cheers.
“Mine too,” Dawson murmurs as he lifts soft, ocean blue eyes to me, and my heart is about to melt as if I’m the dollop of ice cream next to the warm pie.
I sink into my chair, watching the grown man and the little boy eat their dessert with uncannily identical mannerisms. I don’t know how Dawson didn’t suspect it before.
Clearly, Gio did, or he wouldn’t have brought it up today.
I rub Gio’s arm and offer him a smile, wondering if he’s able to pick up on my emotions right now, as he always does. Right now, I’m overwhelmed by the happiness of seeing the two boys I love forging a relationship and creating a bond that’s deeper than just a blood relation.
That’s when another realization hits me, but I ignore it and choose not to dwell on that thought, and Dawson speaking up again is the distraction I need.
I can’t trust him not to hurt me again, and I can’t let down these walls just yet.
Besides, he’s only here for Gio, for his son.
“What’s your favorite pastime, Champ?” Dawson asks Gio, who mumbles something unintelligible as he swallows his mouthful.
His voice is still muffled when he replies, “I go running.”
“Running, huh? Like in an open field?” Dawson asks as he lifts a questioning brow at me.
I nod slowly, snapping out of whatever it was that almost pulled me into a daze. Perhaps it was the deep pools of Dawson’s eyes that I almost drowned in, or the thought that my feelings for him have returned.
“Y-yes,” I concede with a brisk nod. “Gio loves running through an open field or the forest. It’s something we used to do in Sunrise on Sunday afternoons,” I smile as I recall the memories of our time there.
Even though it wasn’t pleasant because of the Moonshine Pack, at least we had a place to call “home” and had each other to lean on.
“We haven’t done it here, because…” My voice tapers off to leave room for interpretation, which Dawson seems to catch as he nods thoughtfully.
“Ah, yes,” he says in agreement, but makes no mention of the demon that lurks in the forest and attacks lone wolves—sometimes even pairs. “Perhaps that’s something we should do over here. I can arrange to take you out running next week,” Dawson promises Gio.
“Thanks!” Gio beams with excitement, and I check the time to remind Gio that he has to get ready to go to bed.
“May I?” Dawson asks when I’ve cleared the table and nudges Gio to head to the bathroom.
Stepping back, I nod hesitantly, watching in surprise as Dawson takes Gio through his nighttime routine and then proceeds to tuck him into bed and tell him a bedtime story.
While Dawson recounts tales of mystical, fire-breathing dragons who save damsels in distress from towers, all I can think about is the werewolf who’d saved me from my own distress and brought me back to my home.
I’m just not sure if I’m ready to accept that “home” is wherever Alpha Dawson is.
***
“Mama! I ready!” Gio proudly declares as he steps out from his bedroom, geared up in a thick blue puffer jacket and tucking his carved elephant toy in his pocket.
I smile warmly at my son, offering out my hand to him before opening the door, only to find Dawson waiting on the porch for us.
It’s been a week since Gio figured out that Dawson is his father, and as promised, Dawson is taking him out to the forest to go for a run.
Seeing Dawson embrace Gio with warm, open arms of pure joy has me feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling, so I’m glad Gio is around so I don’t end up alone with Dawson.
He hasn’t pressured me to speak about the undeniable attraction between us, or what knotting in that hut means for us going forward.
Though my heat is tied to him, I haven’t had an episode since the night of the bonfire when we acted purely on desire. Now, meeting with him is only for the sake of growing a relationship between father and son, and I couldn’t be gladder that I can keep my walls up.
It seems those walls have been hindering my progress when it comes to exercising my psychic powers; it’s something Luna Aurora made me aware of, since she’d been through the same stunt in her progress when she first discovered her gifts. But I don’t plan on letting my walls down yet.
Besides, I’m still convinced that I’m not going to be entirely helpful in the fight against the demon. Perhaps my mystical powers only go as far as getting visions.
“Ready?” Dawson asks as he straightens up after hugging Gio.
I nod hesitantly, still wary about spending time with Dawson, because it doesn’t make this easier watching the two of them together. As Dawson takes Gio’s hand to lead him toward the forest, I follow and can’t stop my mind from wandering.
He’s so attentive to Gio, answering all of our son’s questions with patience until we cross the Snehvolk border and head to a more secluded part of the forest. The spot Dawson picks isn’t too far from the hut, and he sets up a picnic on a level surface in the snow.
“You gonna run too?” Dawson asks me when we’ve tucked into the snacks I prepared for the day.
“No,” I shake my head. “You two go ahead.”
Dawson nods and gestures to the open meadow, and Gio is eagerly on his feet, ready to run through the snow. I sigh as the two leave me to the quiet of the afternoon sun, and I look up and close my eyes, allowing my cheeks to be kissed by the warmth.
Relishing in the softness of the afternoon just outside Girdwood, I try focusing on my breath while I have this moment of ease to myself.
Gio’s cheerful giggles and delighted chatter prompt me to glance over at them as they prepare to sprint forward, and I smile to myself, allowing for this moment to just be what it is instead of paying attention to the feelings stirring in my heart.
I don’t want to give my energy to the resurgence of feelings I’d buried a long time ago.
Now that Dawson has the power to hurt me again, I can’t give in and risk getting my heart broken for the second time.
It took me a long time to come to terms with raising our son on our own for the first five years of his life, and though Dawson resents me for running off before he came looking for me, I’m not even sure if I’d have been safe from his rejection once he found out I was pregnant.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, lighting up the darkness behind my eyelids, the faint yellow glow dancing with the emergence of a dull gray spot.
I focus on that spot, remembering Aurora’s advice that the silver tresses of color are linked to my psychic witch powers.
I had no idea that I was linked to the ancient tribes that once wielded so much power; they were feared across the States.
Perhaps it’s something neither of my parents was aware of, but somewhere along the lines, we must have been descendants of those tribes, and somehow, I’ve picked up on the energy of that bloodline.
Just like Aurora advised, I focus on that dull gray speck, watching it curiously behind my closed eyelids until I notice it growing, turning brighter as it glows in a lighter shade of silver.
My lips curl into a smile of self-satisfaction, realizing that the more I concentrate, the larger it becomes.
I can feel the power starting to ignite in my palms, streaming from the color behind my eyelids. But just as I’m about to take control of that power, the silver orb is extinguished, and the light behind my eyelids dims.
“What…?” I murmur, opening my eyes with a frown when even the sun’s warm light is seemingly cut off.
That’s when I realize why I’m unable to tap into that power I’d been set on focusing on.
Standing before me is a group of males—werewolves, with familiar faces I only recognize because I’d once been a part of their pack.
It might be only a few weeks that have passed since that changed, but it feels like eons ago, and I realize that these werewolves are strangers now because I’ve found my place in Snehvolk, even if my belonging is still questionable.
Moonshine wolves.
At the center of the group that surrounds me and towers over me with looming threat is the Alpha of the Moonshine Pack.
“Alpha Owen…?” I murmur, the name slipping off my tongue and feeling foreign. When he snarls, and I notice his curled fists, and the menacing step he takes forward, I know they’re here to extract revenge for what the Moonshine Pack believes I’m responsible for.
The deaths of their betas.
I gasp in horror, then snap my head back to the only alpha whose name is my saving grace when I yell out for him.
“Alpha Dawson!”