Normally, I felt a little tetchy when I got separated from my beloved little pup for so long. Even though I knew she’d be having the time of her life with her cousins and Uncle Brandon, I tended to worry that she’d miss me. In reality, I was largely projecting; alone in our apartment, it inevitably turned out to be me missing her, while she didn’t have a spare minute to think about it. This time, though I was excited to see her, I also felt pretty grateful to Brandon for making sure I could make this second date.

Single parents weren’t usually capable of being so flexible with their dating plans, after all. Without such a loving pack in place, neither would I. I’d never stop being grateful.

I couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t also a huge weight off my shoulders to hear that Jack didn’t mind that I had Josie. Part of me had been trying hard not to think about that possible point of contention, and to refrain from mentioning her — even without directly thinking about doing that. If I had, guilt would probably have stopped me from holding back. Josie was nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, if having her scared a new man away, then good riddance.

Clearly, though, some part of me had decided that this fledgling relationship deserved the best possible shot at survival. It had sequestered away a part of my life that was so important, I couldn’t live without it. Learning that I didn’t have to hide it lightened my spirit in a way I couldn’t have predicted. Many of the lingering doubts that hung over me began to disappear into the shadows.

Of course, I was still grieving for Micah, and there was no guarantee that inviting somebody new into my life during that process was a smart choice. I also had to confront the possibility that I’d never be ready for somebody new, especially after wrinkling my nose at the idea of therapy. On top of that, Jack and Josie might not click. It might turn out that Jack wanted something less or more than I could give him, and too soon… or not soon enough.

When any relationship worked, it was an everyday miracle. It required incredible harmony between two people — or more, I reminded myself, thinking of my parents. They had to be attracted to one another, and in similar ways. They had to have similar sexual appetites, or be willing to weather the arguments it would cause if they weren’t. They had to have a similar outlook on life. They had to agree on how to run a household and their finances. They had to be looking for the same things at the same time, and be ready for those things at the same time.

With extra obstacles in the way, like businesses and daughters and late husbands, there was no telling how hard it might be. I guessed it meant something that I wanted to try at all — that I hadn’t just given up hope.

We had arranged to meet at the Space Needle like first-time tourists. As I took a seat on the side of the fountain at its base, that tourist vibe felt kind of appropriate. Though I’d spent all my life growing up around this city, and had come to take its sights for granted, I certainly didn’t feel so neutral about Jack. I felt positively giddy about spending the evening with him, just like any traveler on vacation might, and when I saw him approaching, I couldn’t fight the smile off my face.

Sure, I could look up at the tower beside us. But I liked the view that approached me in a faux-leather jacket far better.

“Hey,” he said, his voice like velvet and classic rock in just one word. Maybe I’d just better get a hold of myself. “You’re all wrapped up. We staying outside?”

“For a little while,” I said, trying to sound mysterious. I suspected that instead, I just sounded like I had a cold. “I have a couple of options for you, but they’re all in the same direction. So we’re gonna take a nice slow walk down the waterfront, along Alaskan Way, and just… decide as we get closer.” I paused, exhausted from the effort it took to make these decisions by myself without asking permission. It didn’t sit right with me — not with him so imposing and so naturally alpha. “Is that… okay?”

He shrugged one great, muscular shoulder, a light smirk on his face. “Sounds good to me.”

“I thought it would be nice to have a little time to talk.”

In a public space, I thought. Where I can’t just beg you to screw me until I forget what time it is. That’d be fun, no doubt, but I’d never get to know him if that was all we did together. He’d never get to know me, either.

Though the clouds were heavy overhead and rain had been threatening all day, the skies stayed on our side as we made our way down to the waterfront. There was the usual windchill in the air, skating over the water and nipping at my cheekbones, but it was actually kind of a good thing. With my cheeks pink from the cold, Jack couldn’t see how much he made me blush.

That happened a lot. He seemed to have already developed a knack for knowing how to push my buttons, and a taste for doing it. The worrier in me felt concerned that I was being played with like a cat might toy with a mouse. The fact still remained that Jack could probably pick up anybody he wanted on this very street we were walking on, and he was confident enough to know it.

But he hadn’t, had he?

Not yet, anyway.

He took my hand as we crossed the road at the waterfront, skipping over to peer into the old antiques market — and never let it go. With our fingers wound together, I found it easier to settle. It was such an open gesture of interest, and his hand was so warm in mine. I even convinced myself that I could feel his pulse through the contact with his wrist, our hearts beating in some kind of rhythmic synchronization. It must have put a smile on my face; he nudged me gently with his elbow.

“Share with the class.”

“Nothing,” I insisted, squirming in my shoes as we kept walking. That windchill was really coming in handy right about now. “It’s nothing. Just having a nice time.”

“I’m sure that’s all it is,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Anyway. Before you hide in your collar again — do you want to tell me what our options are?”

I had to fight my instinct to hide my face in my coat like he predicted, just to prove him wrong, but I still responded like a spluttering mess. “Oh! Um. Yes. Sorry. I… I thought maybe one could be the Smith Tower.” I cleared my throat, feeling silly. “It’s been years since I’ve been, and it has the Wishing Chair, and… I don’t know. I thought it might be fun.”

“The Wishing Chair?” he said, with a glint in his eye that seemed to suggest he already knew what it was.

I flustered. “It’s… well. It’s a chair that was donated a long time ago. It’s dark wood. Really well-made — kind of like an art piece, more than a piece of furniture. I think it comes from China….”

“Would this be the get-laid chair?”

“It’s not for getting laid!” The blush escaped my cheeks, filtering out into my ears and the back of my neck. I saw Jack’s eyes drifting over me to take it in, a broad grin growing on his face. “It’s for getting married,” I insisted, trying to recover the last of my dignity with a little factual information. “They say if you’re single and you sit on it, you’ll find your future partner within the year. Or get married, or… I can’t remember exactly what the legend is. But it is not about getting laid.”

“’Cos I can get you laid without a chair.”

“Jack!”

He grinned, letting go of my hand to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me closer. I leaned into him by instinct, hiding my face in his shoulder now instead of my own. His jacket smelled more natural than I anticipated. There were still notes of plastic in there, too prominent for a wolf’s nose to miss, but it wasn’t unpleasant to bury myself there and hide. It had absorbed a lot of his own natural woody scent, too.

“Okay,” he said at last, taking pity. “That’s option one. Sounds good to me. What else?”

“Well.” I craned my neck a little, wrinkling my nose as I turned in his direction. “How do vegans feel about aquariums?”

“They’re piscine prisons designed for the emotional mutilation of sea creatures, masquerading as family entertainment and education. A museum of horrors.”

I paused, feeling guilty. I could feel my heart straining in my chest.

“I’m kidding,” he said, finding mercy again. “They’re fine.”

“You need to stop torturing me,” I said, one hand on my heart. “I’m not built for this.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, approximately as believable as Josie pretending to be asleep. “You just make it so easy. You’re such an omega.”

“Well, yes,” I said, tipping my head sideways. “That is how that works.”

“Some of you are pretty forceful,” he pointed out, leading me across the road again. I fitted so neatly against his side that I found myself hoping he wouldn’t let go to take my hand again. I liked this configuration much better — no matter how much of the sidewalk we ate up. Well, weren’t we playing tourists? “I once dated an omega who had me send a screenshot of any texts I sent to other men throughout the week.”

“...Any texts?”

“Any texts,” he confirmed, with a low nod. “To my pack. To my friends. To my fucking doctor...” he waved a hand. “Didn’t last long. Can’t live like that.”

“No, I don’t blame you.”

He paused. “You weren’t planning on…?”

“God, no. I barely have time to read my own texts. I’m a single dad.”

“Yeah,” he said. “About that.”

Whatever he’d said earlier, those words sent a prickle of dread down my spine. Had he reconsidered? Or was this the moment he’d tell me that he’d be fine with dating me so long as he never met my daughter?

“Who’s little Dylan?” he asked, looking right ahead with a light smile. “I saw the name Josie...”

“Yep. That’s her,” I answered. I couldn’t help beaming with pride at the sheer thought of her. What would she be doing right now, I wondered? Probably lecturing her cousins about something she’d learned in school recently, or how to take proper care of flowers. “She’s a real smart kid,” I said, translating those thoughts into words. “She loves learning, and telling you what she’s learned. She’s always so intensely curious about everything. Scares me, sometimes. I know it won’t be long before she’s asking me questions I don’t even understand.”

“What’s the best one so far?”

“Oh, wow.” I thought back, leaning into his side as if we’d been walking this way for years. “So many. She once asked why politicians fight.”

“What did you say? Because they’re dumb?”

“No — because they have different ideas, but they all mean well!”

He snorted. “You’re adorable. What else?”

“Why is fire hot?”

“Very reasonable.”

“What happens to dead cotton candy?”

“...Less reasonable.”

“And, of course: does Justin Bieber like me?”

It wasn’t until I heard his peals of barking-laughter that I realized I’d posed the question in a jokey voice, as if I was asking for myself. I hadn’t tried to make anybody laugh like that in years; I would have guessed that if I did, I’d only end up embarrassing both of us.

“Justin Bieber’s loss, if it’s a no.”

“I can’t tell if you’re referring to me or my daughter,” I said, scrubbing at my jaw with my free hand to try and encourage the ache out of my face. It hurt from all the smiling. “Justin Bieber is categorically not allowed to dislike me. I’ve spent a fortune on his merch.”

“I… don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

“What? It’s for her.”

“Sure it is, Kapernit.”

He buried his face into my cheek. His stubble was rough there as he pressed a kiss against my skin, warm and tender and quite unlike the ways he’d touched me every other time.

I felt drunk.

“Alright,” he said, looking away with a smile that suggested he was just as happy as I was. “Aquarium’s there. Time to make your mind up. Fish prison, or fuck chair?”

“I hate both of those descriptions.”

“Oops. Now you’ve hurt my feelings, so you’ve lost the right to decide. Fish prison it is.” He squeezed my waist, guiding me down the path towards the aquarium entrance, and holding me tight against the cold breeze that skipped across the water. “They got penguins here?”

“I don’t know. Do they do penguins at aquariums?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Guess we’ll find out. I’ve never been.”

“Never?”

Jack shook his head, coming to a slow stop as we joined the back of the queue for tickets. “Not a once.”

“Have you always lived in Seattle?”

“Uh...” he trailed off, staring out into the far distance. I sensed I’d stumbled into a sensitive area, and was about to apologize when he shook his head and came back to me, as if nothing had happened. “No, not always. But for a long time.”

I paused, wanting to ask but wary of stirring up bad memories. He seemed to sense the struggle, smiling down at me with that soft, surprising smile of his.

“You can ask,” he prompted. “Always, for the record. Might not always answer, but you won’t offend me by trying.”

“Okay,” I said, storing the information away. It pleased me to hear him so direct about this kind of thing. Maybe it was unkind, but he was so attractive — and so masculine — that I had defaulted to imagining him as some kind of emotionally stunted alpha, incapable of setting boundaries or thinking about what upset him, and what didn’t. To see that he was a little more open and thoughtful than that was promising, but not entirely surprising, any more.

I just looked forward to discovering the next, new way he was perfect for me.

“So. When did you move here…?” I asked at long last.

Jack nodded, slow and steady, as he digested the question. There seemed to be a lot of history on his mind, and I wondered how much of it I’d be permitted to hear any time soon. “Sixteen years ago,” he revealed. “I was eighteen.” He sounded more sober than I’d ever heard him before. It worried me a little to hear him like that. I began to be thankful for the noisiness of the crowd — the best blanket of privacy you could hope for in public.

“A long time ago,” I pointed out, though it was obvious. “Did you move with your pack?”

His gaze fell right to the floor. There was the sore spot. His pack.

“I’m sorry...”

“No,” he said, forcing a smile and looking up at me. “It’s fine. But let’s talk about you. When did you last come to see the fish here?”

I swallowed. Normally, I’d have leaped at the chance to move away from his harmful topic by answering his question, but in this case he’d stumbled across something difficult, too. “Oh. Um. With Josie, I think.” I cleared my throat, shaking my head a little. “I mean… I don’t think. I know. We brought here here. Me and my Micah.”

It felt a little wrong to speak his name, on many levels. That word seemed to conjure his ghost in the air around us; I could almost catch his scent overlaying the synthetic sea air that the aquarium were pumping through the foyer. It smelled like home.

“Oh.”

I gave him a weak smile. “Sorry. Guess we’re both treading in muddy water, here.” I looked away, surveying the line ahead of us. It might take a while. “It’s my fault, really. I suggested this place. I didn’t think it would be a problem for me.”

“We can go elsewhere,” he said. “Smith Tower’s still poking up out there.”

“Thank you,” I told him, and meant it. My hand rested on his forearm, gentle and brief. “But no. We’re here now. I’m trying to move on, after all. Let’s make new memories instead.”

He took my hand, looking at the spot on my hand where the wedding tattoo had once been. I lifted the other to look at the memorial that Jack himself had tattooed. Would that be a problem for us later, if this thing lasted?

To look at him now, kind and considerate, you certainly wouldn’t think so.

“Well. You change your mind, say the word. We’ll get out of here.”

“Thanks.”

I leaned into him, hoping he’d catch the hint. Sure enough, his arm snaked around my waist to hold me in place in the line. Maybe the thought of Micah still hurt me — but right now, the warmth of Jack’s arm was just the right kind of medicine.

“No, no, honestly. I had a great time. It was a good idea. All I’m saying is, they shouldn’t be allowed to sell big-ass shark stuff in the gift stop if they don’t actually have any big-ass sharks.”

“I’m sorry,” I teased, squeezing his hand as I led him up to the front door of my apartment. “But I think you’re biased. I think you’re just sad about the penguins.” Last time we’d gotten this close to going inside together, I’d been so alight with lust that I could barely think. Now, my heart was pounding with nerves at the thought of having him in my inner sanctum. Were there toys all over the floor? In this moment, I honestly couldn’t remember.

“They had puffins,” said Jack, waiting patiently with his hands stuffed into his pockets as I slotted the key into the door. “They had otters. I don’t know why they couldn’t have penguins. They’re everybody’s favorite.”

“Maybe they just weren’t absolutely sure they could create a comfortable environment for penguins to be happy in.”

I paused as I opened the door, meeting Jack’s eyes. There was something new in his expression that I couldn’t identify. Something intimate and real.

“You can’t say that to a vegan,” he said, reaching out to fiddle with the zipper on my jacket. “I’ll marry you in the next five minutes. Don’t think I won’t.”

“You mean you’ll propose.”

“No,” he said, following me over the threshold and kicking his shoes off. “I do not.”

I looked around as I hung up my coat, feeling awkward. Was he going to think this place was ugly, compared to his? I didn’t have time to think about decor the way he did, and though Josie’s toys were not all over the floor as I’d imagined, there were a couple of My Little Pony t-shirts hanging to dry on the stand. The couch was soft but old, and had a couple of worn patches in the old fabric.

I wrung my hands, waiting for his verdict.

Apparently set on surpassing all expectations, he tapped a couple of framed pictures on the all, and melted my heart in an instant. “Hey. Did Josie draw these?”

“She did.”

I moved to his side, bursting with pride as I looked over them. Okay, they were clearly drawn by a child, and I knew I was biased, but there was definitely some colorful charm in the pictures I’d hung up.

“All different flowers, huh?” he smiled, looking at each one individually before he turned back to me. “I guess she’s learning from dad.”

“She is,” I said, feeling like a broken record. “Um. You… want to sit down? Something to drink?” I didn’t know how to do this. We hadn’t stopped for this kind of talk last time. By this point in his place, I already had most of my clothes off. A sobering thought.

“I could go for a beer, if you have it.”

I reached into the fridge, then paused halfway in. “I don’t know if it’s vegan.”

“Beer usually is,” said Jack, holding his hand out. I passed him a bottle to check, taking one for myself, and only closed the fridge once he nodded. His smile was too much. “Yep. This is perfect. Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I repeated, suddenly shy as he screwed off the lid and took a good swig. His eyes landed first on me, then warmed up and moved off around the kitchen. I couldn’t help but feel on display. “Hey,” he said, walking over to the fridge himself now. “More art.”

My heart jumped out of instinct.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s...”

“Oh.” Jack lowered his hand, having reached out halfway. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I assured him. We’d already almost covered this topic once today; I saw no reason why we couldn’t slip past it again. “I probably shouldn’t even have it up. Just… you know. She draws something. I can’t throw it out...”

“How old was she?”

“Six.” The directness of the question disarmed me. I didn’t mind telling him. In fact, being shocked into answering was somehow easier than dwelling on the wording, and the delivery.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping away from it. “I don’t want to pry. I just… yeah. That’s tough.”

“We get by.”

I sank into a chair at the table. He took the one opposite, as if we’d done this all before. I supposed we had, at the restaurant — but here in my kitchen, things felt different. Things felt more raw and real. It wasn’t all bad, though. In this space, I felt emboldened to tell him. Once I had that spirit in me, it wasn’t so hard to get the words out of my mouth.

“He was perfect. I know I’m not supposed to say that, since we’re… you know.” I gave a half-hearted smile, not even convincing myself. Barely moving at all. “But he was. He took care of us. He was strong and he loved us, and… he’s gone.”

If Jack was irritated by the revelation, he didn’t show it. I could only see concern in his eyes. Even so, I didn’t want to stay on the subject for much longer. Besides, there was still more to tell.

“Josie lost a brother, too.”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Dylan...”

“I know.”

My eyes misted up, but I couldn’t berate myself for this. These wounds were all still raw, but losing a child was worse than any other injury that could be inflicted. When I felt his hand close over mine, it helped. It reminded me to swallow, and encouraged me to press on. I’d started telling him. Now, I might as well finish.

“He was Adam. He was two.” A pause for breath, and then: “It was a fire.”

I could hear my voice crack and hated it. My eyes snapped shut, feeling Jack’s hand tighten over mine. I felt the finger where the memorial tattoo was beneath his hand, hot and almost uncomfortable, but I couldn’t bear to lose the contact. He was an anchor through this.

“It was my fault.”

“Dylan...”

The chair shifted opposite. I heard it, but didn’t really register what it meant until I felt his arms around me — then, after that, the tracks of tears down my cheeks. “Yes,” I insisted, anticipating his denial. “It was. I left the dryer running. Micah told me not to leave the dryer running, and I did, and then he ran inside for Adam, and the roof came in, and-”

“No, no, no.” He spoke into my hair, fingertips coaxing calm back into the nape of my neck with small, soft circles. “I know, Dylan. Fuck, I know how it feels. But it isn’t your fault.”

“Who else’s fault could it be?”

“Sometimes this shit is nobody’s fault. It just… is. No blame. It happens..”

I shook my head, feeling the pressure of him there. “Because of something I did. Jack, I know. I just know. Every night when I fall asleep, I know it was my fault.”

“No, no, no.”

He muttered his litany into my hair, soft and careful and sweet. It took a good half a minute for me to calm down, with my heartbeat still rushing and my ears dizzy and buzzing, and my breath still catching in my throat.

“I promise,” he said, as if he knew that I was ready to hear it. Maybe he’d been saying it all this time, and I hadn’t heard him — or maybe he did just know. “Trust me. I know. It wasn’t your fault. However it feels, the truth is different.”

I sensed a story there. My voice wasn’t working, but when I tipped my head to his shoulder and looked up into his eyes, he seemed to get the sense of what I wanted to say. Seemed to shrink away a little at the thought of it.

“Yeah,” he admitted, voice coarse. “I’ve got my guilt too.”

He took me to the couch, bundling up together in a blanketed pile that made it hard to tell where one of us ended and the other began. In fur form, we’d blend even better — but human mouths would serve this conversation better than a snout could. It took him a long time to talk to me, though I could sense it coming up. When he opened his mouth, I felt the weight of decades in his words.

For the first time, I understood the strength of his pain. Saw it written on his face. Knew that he’d been hurt just like I had.

“Lost my pack,” he said, gruff and mumbling. Then he cleared his throat, forcing himself to be eloquent as he spoke. To be heard. “All of ‘em. When I was a teenager. Mom and Dad were… big figures, you know? Dad was the alpha. I was coming into my adulthood. Seemed smooth enough. We lived in the woods back then — a big wild pack, way out in Mt. Hood. Real traditional community spirit. Campfires every night. Raising everyone’s pups together.” He shrugged, trying to force himself on with some momentum. I rubbed his arm, trying to knead a little support and comfort into his skin. Even an alpha needed that sometimes. “Doesn’t matter now, I guess. It’s been a long time, but it’s the kind of shit you don’t really ever get away from. The weight of it.”

He paused, swallowing hard. I kept my eyes averted, nestling into the heat of his chest. I knew what I’d see if I looked. That pain wasn’t mine to witness, and he hadn’t stared at me through mine.

“Mom. Dad. Cousins. Everyone. Only three of us left behind, when it was over. Just me, Oscar and Mark.”

“Your friends from the store?”

He nodded. I couldn’t see, but I felt his head move — felt his chin nudge gently into the top of my head, slow and arrhythmic.

“That’s all we’ve got now,” he clarified. “Just us.”

I turned a little, curling up a little higher on his shoulder. It was much too soon to feel like this, but after that kind of revelation, and those two dates, it felt churlish to hold back my emotions. He could see them anyway, if his eyes were open.

If it went wrong, and if he didn’t want me? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d been hurt.

“Well,” I said. “Us too.”

He wrapped an arm around my middle, tighter and closer than before. When he kissed the top of my head, I felt something flow between us. An energy, real or imagined. A promise.

“Us too,” he agreed. “I feel that.”

After the way we’d been last night, I might not have believed we’d be able to keep our hands off each other. It had certainly felt that way at the time, when we were basking in heat. Right now, however, sex was the furthest thing from our minds. I wanted to take him to bed, but not for anything other than to have him in bed. To lie down with him. To absorb some of his pain and his guilt, and let him take away some of mine.

For the first time, I let myself believe that this might be something real.

If he could hear my story about the fire, and if I could tell it in his presence, then there had to be a kernel of something more than fun between us. Something I’d begun to believe I’d never be granted again.