“Dad, wake up. C’mon. It’s time for bed,” Rowan whispered in my ear. The infomercials from the television pierced my eardrums. I ran my fingers against my eyelids and yawned.

“Shoot, kid. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. How was the episode?” I asked, peering at my son in the dimly lit room.

“I’m not a kid anymore, dad,” Rowan warned me. Oh, yeah. When did my son grow up? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. When I looked at him, Rowan still looked like my baby boy.

Despite my worries, Rowan was growing up to be a wise person. At age thirteen, he had taken on more responsibilities than most kids his age, but it was out of necessity more than anything. When he was about five years old, we both lost a big part of our lives.

“I know, but I’ve missed doing this with you. Remember when we used to watch SNL every single Saturday night? That was so much fun,” I said. I lived for those moments. I’d give the world to have those nights back again.

“Dad, you’re getting sentimental again,” Rowan said, frowning.

“Can you blame me?” I asked. I pushed the La-Z-Boy chair into the upright position and stood up on my feet. Hugging my son, I braced myself. I kissed the top of Rowan’s head and closed my eyes.

We’ve had so many good times together, but sometimes I felt like I was letting him down. I didn’t feel like myself. Something in this town had changed. People’s attitude had turned sour, and I couldn’t handle it correctly.

Rowan eased up on me and finally hugged me back. “I don’t blame you for anything, dad,” my son whispered. “But sometimes, it makes me sad to see you alone like this.”

There was a lot I still needed to learn about being a father. For one, I needed to get better at covering up my feelings. I was not good at playing the “sad, single dad” role, but I also had no desire to start dating again.

I felt like a deep part of my soul had been ripped from my very being. I remembered getting the call from sheriff Blake’s department. As soon as I heard his quivering voice, I knew what had happened.

“Tate, uh. Look, guy. I’m going to need you to come down to the station. Something happened.”

I felt my heart wrench inside of me. I remembered falling to the kitchen floor. I barely remember screaming. I don’t even remember driving to the station, but my boy seemed to recall everything that happened that night vividly.

They found my heart and soul in the center of my ex-omega’s vehicle. The hard road caved in the roof of his truck. Shards of glass littered the darkened streets of our beloved town. A large tree branch pierced his lungs. The hospital told me he died within seconds.

I couldn’t think about it anymore. For the past eight years of my life, it was the only thing I had dwelled on. What could I have done differently? I blamed the accident on myself.

“I’m not sad, son. I’m just a little worn out,” I said. “But since when did you start having to worry about me? I’m your father. I’ll be fine.”

The way my child looked at me broke my heart. Rowan gave me another quick hug before running up to his room. “I’ll try not to worry. Goodnight, dad,” he said.

“Night, son,” I replied.

As soon as I heard him shut his door, I took a step outside. I leaned against the wooden porch and stared off into the distance.

I was sad, but I had no idea how to break the damn cycle. My husband had been torn from my hands, and I was never going to get him back. I had to make peace with that fact, but I couldn’t let go of one thing…

Sheriff Blake could have acted faster. They could have tracked down the bastard who made the hit and run. The man was drunk, and witnesses claimed he was swerving down the interstate like he had nothing to lose. Multiple people phoned it in. It took them two hours to arrive to the scene.

Of course, they covered up all of their mistakes. There was too much darkness in this town, despite carrying the veil of morality. Nothing was done, and I was an outcast because of it.

The town turned on me once I became vocal enough about what happened. To them, I was just another statistic. I was that single alpha dad who lost his head and moved to the forest. So be it.

A loud, crashing noise jolted me into action. “Dad!” Rowan screamed.

I ran through the hall and swung open Rowan’s door. The shattered glass of the window crunched beneath my feet. On the floor laid a flaming torch. “Gosh darn it,” I groaned. I stomped the flames out and glanced out the window.

“Don’t do it! Please, dad,” my son begged.

But outside of that window, I could see the men laughing. Three older men in a pickup truck were sitting in idle, smoking cigarettes and tossing back beers. The front passenger leaned out and yelled, “Omega killer!”

Something in me snapped. I ran to the safe inside my bedroom, and I pulled out my rifle. I never kept any bullets in the house, but the gun itself was a statement. I ran out the front door and aimed.

“You have about ten seconds to get off of my property!” I called out. “Ten. Nine…”

The truck sped off, as howls of laughter poured from their windows. I lowered the rifle and felt my gut shudder. I dropped to my knees and started to weep.

Omega killer. Those words cut as thick as any words could. “Dad. Don’t let them get to you. They’re idiots, okay?”

I turned around and looked at my son. Rowan was fighting back his tears, trying to stay strong. “I’m sorry. I should never have reacted like that. I just…”

My son ran and hugged me tightly. “It’s okay. I feel it too. We can honor him with our memories. Those will never die,” Rowan said.

“You’re right,” I muttered. “I just want the abuse to end.”

Rowan let go of my chest and stood back. “I called the police. It’s the best we can do,” he said.

I groaned. “Okay. You should get some rest, though. Be careful of the glass. I’ll get the window fixed in the morning, but you have school early,” I said.

“I’m on it, pops,” he said, trying his best to smile for me.

Remain strong. That was my mantra. I just had to make it through to the next day.