Chapter 3 The Moon Lily Flower Shop #2
I hold my hands up in mock surrender. “Just asking, man. You both are friends, not only to me, but to the majority of us here. I really wish you two would settle your differences and just hash it all out. You two have a lot in common; if you would just sit and talk for once, you’d see.”
He glances at me for a fleeting moment, opens his mouth, hesitates, and shuts it before shifting his gaze toward the window.
I pray to Lumithea that they start on a new foot at some point in the near future. A transformation may be what is needed.
Garruk clears his throat. “Thanks for the chat.”
“No problem, but seriously, clear your mind and maybe try to talk to one another.”
He makes his way to the door. “I don’t know, we’ll see,” he offers, glancing back to reveal the hint of a smile playing at his mouth. “And thanks—I’ll bring cookies next time.”
“Can we grab my bike from home so I can practice more?” Seren asks, practically yelling in my ear.
She tosses her backpack aside as I buckle her into the booster seat in the backseat of my F-150. I hop back in the truck and begin following the line of cars away from the pickup line at Mystic Ridge Elementary.
She looks out the window, lips moving to the lyrics of a song on our after-school playlist before she glances in my direction, remembering she asked me a question and I haven't responded.
I don’t know why I haven’t bought her a bike to have at my house yet, but it’s now at the top of my list. It’ll be easier than shuffling it back and forth.
“Alright, we’ll go get it before going to my house.”
I glance in the rearview mirror, watching her do her happy dance. When she grins, I see Aaryn's smile, and at times it throws me for a loop. He always found something to smile about, even at the very end.
The hum of the music flows from the radio while she tells me about her day.
The road to the treehouse village tugs at my heart these days.
It's not always the ache of loss, sometimes it's the flash of a happy memory of us racing up the rope ladders as kids, or the summer of sneaking beers down to the lake after Aaryn got his driver's license.
Back then, you couldn't find one of us without the other far behind.
Dappled sunlight filters in through the lush canopy of the giant, ancient trees, down to the rich soil of the earth and gardens.
Each treehouse, made of maple wood, spruce, and pine—for stability and protection—is perched on thick branches.
Colorful doors decorate each house with stained glass windows, the arch above every doorway embellished with carvings of protection.
Rope bridges are suspended in the air, and an elevator pulley system allows access to the homes. Stairs wrap around the trees to lead to the forest floor below, but the rope ladders are still there.
I ease my truck into the parking lot, find a spot, and kill the engine. Seren's already fumbling with her seatbelt, eager to be free and get her bike. I help her and lift her out, her small hand finding mine as we head to the path.
My wolf stirs, senses sharpening. The whisper of the wind rustles through the trees, the groan of the elevator, the footsteps on the wood planks of the bridges, and the distant laughter and screams of excitement of children at the playground.
Seren moves her little legs, jogging to meet my pace. I can smell the damp bark on the trees, the sweet fragrance of the wild blooms, and fruit and vegetables from the gardens.
I think back to my childhood here with Aaryn to this life where he should be standing now. All that remains is this little girl who has me wrapped around her finger.
I never pictured my life turning out this way. The flower shop, yes—that was always the plan. But I never expected to be splitting my time between that and having Jasmira and Seren as a constant presence in my life. I'm content, but I can't help but wonder if this is all life has in store for me.
“Look, Dominik!” Seren screams.
I wince, nervous, from where I sit on the porch and when I see her, I break out in laughter.
She is sitting on her pale-yellow balance bike, the toes of her sneakers teetering on the concrete.
I can hear her heart race in excitement and nerves.
She looks forward, quickly tugging down her black helmet before kicking off with a foot, alternating a kick of each leg on the ground.
She tucks her feet into the sides of the bike, coasting in the cul-de-sac, balancing on her seat.
“I’m doing it!” She giggles, the proud smile on her face mirrors mine.
I stand, walking toward her as she moves in small waves. “Yes!” I exclaim, clapping my hands. “You’re doing it!”
She laughs again, turning her bike toward the sidewalk and into the grass to slow herself down. “Can I go again?”
I pull my phone out of my pocket, checking the time. Jas will be off work shortly, but we have some time before I need to order dinner and go over any schoolwork.
“You can go a few more times, but we’ll have to get started on any schoolwork soon, okay?”
“Okay!”
She wobbles side to side, hurling herself toward the street.
I watch her, heart in my throat. I’m grateful for this quiet neighborhood and living in a cul-de-sac.
Whenever Seren visits and wants to play outside, I silently thank the Goddess and whatever luck placed me here instead of close to a busy street.
My nerves are frayed enough, at her learning how to ride a bike, imagining scraped knees and hard tumbles onto the pavement.
I sit on the porch, grabbing her backpack to see what tonight’s assignments are, other than our daily reading, letter writing, and number counting worksheets.
My ears perk up listening to Seren cheer as she balances again like a pro.
I go through her folder, eyes immediately drawn to the paper with colorful donuts and large lettering. I pull it out, but I know what it is for.
Dads and Donuts.
Shit.
I put the paper back and snap the folder shut, setting it down, and wipe my face in disbelief. My hand absentmindedly strokes my beard.
Jas attended Moms and Muffins with Seren. It slipped my mind that they would do something similar for the fathers. We didn’t have this when we were in school. Why don’t they just have one day and call it Parents and Pastries?
I gather her backpack, shoving the folder back inside. “Let’s go, Seren.” She circles once more before leaping off and bringing her bike over.
“You hungry, little Star?” I ask.
“Pizza! Pizza!” she cheers, running her bike past me and straight into the garage.
“Yes! Let's place the order before your mom gets here.” I follow her, but my smile doesn't last long. I have to figure out how to talk to Jasmira about this school event.