Price
TEN
At pick-up time, I drove to school, but the place was empty and waterlogged.
I checked my phone. I hadn’t looked at it since Cam stormed out. Instead, I’d laid on the studio floor, staring at the ceiling, while my beast told me I was being ridiculous.
What dragon shifter lies on bare concrete? It’s cold and uncomfortable.
I phoned Theron, and Ledger picked up. But the children weren’t with them.
“A young guy picked them up, but I didn’t speak to him. I’m guessing that was your manny I haven’t managed to meet yet.”
That couldn’t be right. Cam and his barely-road-worthy car were probably two towns over by now. But even if he had collected them, he’d be long gone, and I had to tell my three children they'd lost yet another person who was important to them.
I rehearsed the speech, the one I’d given versions of to them, to my parents, teachers, friends, and neighbors and even the kids’ doctors.
I’d keep my voice level and make sure they knew it was not their fault.
If they were angry and upset and blamed me, I wouldn't flinch or offer excuses.
I hated that I had to do this and wondered how much loss children could accept before they were so traumatized they needed therapy.
Hurry up. He might still be at the house.
Despite living inside me, my dragon wasn’t able to interpret human emotions and their consequences. I didn’t have the energy to argue.
I came around the last bend and drove past Theron’s house until I reached mine. And there, between the metal gate posts, was his car. That ridiculous, beloved, gas-guzzling wreck was parked as it always was, crooked, in the driveway. Cam really needed lessons on how to park.
He was waiting for me to arrive because he didn’t want to leave the children alone.
He was always the professional. And he’d come back for his things.
Refusing to hope that he might stay, I got out, not bothering to put the car in the garage, and trudged toward the front door but decided to go in the back entrance.
Wet shoes and backpacks were drying in the mudroom as I walked past. Papers were spread out on a table, and no one was in the courtyard where they’d normally be, eating their snacks.
From the playroom, there were squeals and laughter and Isla telling Jack to move over. But my youngest was making up a story, and his words were tumbling out.
“… and the dragon knight has a sword and a flashlight, and he’s not scared of anything, not even the dark, not even spiders.”
I paused in the doorway. They’d built a fort out of a spare mattress from the storeroom, and it looked like they’d used every blanket in the house.
Four sets of feet wearing socks were poking out of the entrance.
One, which belonged to Isla because she had a scar on her right leg, was shoving the smallest set.
But one of Jack’s feet was thrown over the largest ankles, and Bea was on her side, with her feet nestled against those same ankles.
There were shadow shapes on the sheet from someone holding a flashlight, and I was tempted to crawl in.
“I’m home.”
“Daddy.”
“Dad.”
My children poked their heads out.
“You didn’t come.”
“The school broke. We got wet.”
“Cam got us.”
Cam scrambled out with the kids. He’d been crying at some point because his eyes were puffy and red. He looked exhausted because he blinked and his eyes closed for a fraction too long, as if he was considering going to sleep.
“I’m so sorry. The phone… ummm, I broke the phone but didn’t realize until I went to collect you from school.”
There was no time for Cam and me to talk because the kids were chattering about the burst pipe at school and how they almost drowned.
They hadn’t, but exaggeration was expected.
There was no homework, but they needed to eat dinner.
Avoiding me, Cam told me to spend time with the kids and he’d cook.
I tried to catch his eye but feared getting too close.
I didn’t want to be sprayed with the fire extinguisher that lived in the pantry.
I kept glancing at him, expecting him to put food on the table and leave.
He hadn’t said anything to the kids or they would have told me.
So was he going to sneak out in the middle of the night?
That wasn’t something my Cam would do, not that he was mine.
But the Cam of this morning was not the same guy making omelets.
“Food’s ready.”
I couldn’t not go into the kitchen because I’d always made a point that we ate together as a family. I snuck glances at him, but he avoided me and encouraged the kids to eat.
“Not more stuff in the egg.” Jack made a face but brightened after Cam gave him a look. “Okay,” he huffed. “I don’t know if I like them. I have to try them.” That last line was courtesy of Cam who’d been introducing my kids to vegetables since his arrival.
“I know what the red one is.” Isla put up her hand. “A bell pepper.”
“It’s sweet.” Bea didn’t poke at hers but took a mouthful.
“The green thing is spinach.” Jack held up his hand, and Cam gave him a high five.
I reached for the hot sauce, a spicy one that came from a dragon-shifter-owned business, at the same time as Cam did. Our fingers brushed over one another, and we both yanked our hands back. The kids stared but didn’t comment.
But they did have an opinion about Cam not eating. They all gasped as he prodded his now-cold omelet.
“You have to try the vegetables once.” Bea nudged Isla who continued, “If you don’t like them, you don’t have to eat them again.”
Jack was between his sisters, and they elbowed him.
“I forget.” He chewed a mouthful of egg.
“What does Cam always say?” Bea whispered.
“Oh, I know. You might like it.” He grinned.
“Cam, you look tired. We’ll rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher.” Bea glanced at me and then at Cam.
I agreed, telling him he had the night off, but I still worried he might leave. The kids and I got more water on the floor than on the dishes, and after bedtime stories, it was an hour later when I emerged from my older daughter’s room.
I hesitated, not wanting to walk to the end of the corridor and inspect whether his door was closed and if the light was on. Instead, I wandered to the front entrance, but his car was still there. Okay, there was a chance I could convince him to stay.
A clink of metal from the courtyard had me peering through the glass. The kids had strung fairy lights over the bushes last Christmas, and we’d left them there. The solar lanterns dotted around the space were glowing, and Cam was at the table holding a can of soda.
“May I join you?”
He nodded but didn’t look at me as I made my way in. I should have gotten a cup of something so I had something to do with my hands. Instead, I stared at the fairy lights and counted the seconds. Maybe Cam would never speak to me again and we’d live as strangers under the same roof.
“You breathed fire.”
Even though what followed might be catastrophic, at least I had a chance. He was talking.
“Whatever it is, whoever you are, just say it because I’ve been reeling since this morning.”
“The kids and I are shifters, so we have an animal inside us.” I gulped and plunged into an explanation. I told him there were many different kinds of shifters who lived among humans, and I detailed how I could shift into dragon form but the kids couldn’t, not yet.
“But they’re not old enough to always be able to control their beasts.” I clasped a hand around my wrist. “That’s why they wear the bracelets, especially around humans. They can still feel their dragons but any fire is contained inside them.”
Cam sipped his soda and stared at something over my shoulder. The waiting was nerve wracking, and I wished I could do what humans did and nibble my nails. Drumming my fingers on the table would only highlight my impatience and fear.
“Can you show me your fire?” He pinched his fingers together. “A little one, not the outsized stream of this morning. I think Jack did that once.”
He likes me. I knew it.
He doesn’t know you.
I let out a tiny deep red flame, no bigger than a candle, and it sat in my cupped palm. He waved a hand over it, feeling the warmth.
“It’s real. I didn’t imagine it.”
“I need to be honest. I hired you to look after my children, and you proved more than capable. They adore you. But I had an ulterior motive. I wanted you here.”
Cam tilted his head to the side. “The children care for me, as I do for them, but it must have been a burden having me in the house.” He ignored my last sentence.
I took a deep breath. “Yes and no. They often wear their bracelets in the house because if they’re overexcited or tired, they might burn something.” But I added that having to hide who they were wasn’t fair to them.
“I’d like to see your dragon sometime, but not now, not yet. Sorry, but I’m not ready.” He ran his finger around the rim of the can.
“That’s fine. I get it.”
He watched me across the table, and somewhere in the glow of the fairy lights, the space between us had closed. I didn’t remember either of us moving. His gaze dropped to my lips, and I leaned forward, until we were a breath apart.
We were so close, I could have kissed him, I wanted to, but as I wavered and wondered if I should, he jerked back as if he’d touched the furnace.
He got up. “I have to sleep on this, maybe for a few nights, because I don’t know what to ask and how to say it. I’m not leaving them. And you.” He stopped. “It’s... you’re…” He stomped his foot. “Ignore me. I’m exhausted. Night.”
“The questions will keep until morning or as many mornings as you need.”
But it was his unfinished sentence I was puzzling over. After failing to complete it in my head, I gave up.
Talking to Ledger might help. I’d see if both of them were agreeable.