Milla
Buy a house that’s already furnished, they said. It will be fun, they said. It will be easier.
Fine, “they” was me convincing myself buying this place sight unseen and completely filled was easier than moving my junk. And, in a way, it had been. I signed papers, turned the key, and, voila, furnished home. If only the home had been lived in by someone who believed in technology.
Only three plugs were grounded. Three. And none of them were anywhere near furniture I could use as an impromptu office until I was able to figure out if I was staying or going and invested in a made-to-order desk that would best suit my needs.
Being back in the bayou after nearly two decades was more than strange, and not because the area itself was at all odd. No. It was how comfortable I felt here already. The thick air, the heat, even the damn bugs had me feeling more at home than I ever had up north. I understood why Dad took me away, but standing here, in a stranger’s house, had me wondering what I’d missed when he’d fled with me all those years ago.
But, now, I was back. The town was unfamiliar, of course. We lived out in a shotgun house between my cousin and another gator family. We had tried to make it work as an informal clan of sorts, but gators just weren’t wired that way, especially without a strong alpha.
I grabbed my keys, after giving up on finding a place to set up my workstation before an electrician made the house safe for my babies. And, by babies, I meant the only thing besides clothing I brought with me, my computers and gadgets. Sad and pathetic to anyone on the outside looking in, but just fine with me. I understood them, and that was more than I could say about anything else in my life.
Heading out the door, I decided to walk to the bakery for coffee instead of taking my car. It was a perfectly sensible vehicle for the city, complete with energy efficiency and such a small size that it could easily be parallel parked, but that didn’t make it acceptable out here. Driving within the town was going to be fine, but not when I got up the courage to hunt down my cousin. Not even close to four-wheel drive, the thing had trouble on cobblestones.
Etienne, my cousin. I hadn’t seen him in ages, and last time I did, I may have shot him with a BB gun. Yeah, I was that cousin. Chances were, he had long forgiven me. After all, we’d been children. That said, he was still a gator, and my gator remained suppressed down inside me where even I couldn’t reach, so it was probably best to see him for the first time when humans were around. At least, that improved my chances of retaliation. If that was even going to be a thing.
Dad had always told scary stories about my cousin and the other gators. He referred to our move as saving me. I knew better. True, I was most likely to be eaten in the row, but the real reason he left was his loneliness. My mom was nothing more than an incubator, all but throwing me at my dad and going about her life the moment I was born. Not that they had been together, but some attachment to me would’ve been nice.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the emotions building there. I had coffee to get.
The street was quiet, not that it was surprising, given the time of day. People were at work or school this late in the morning. Another hour and a half and they would be on the prowl for lunch, but, for now, it was peaceful.
I could smell the bakery before I could make out the sign. Something about the smell of frying donuts called to me. Or maybe the donuts were over for the day, and she was frying pies. I wasn’t going to turn one of those down, for sure.
The bell on the door announced my arrival. Aside from an old man reading the paper in the back corner, the place was vacant. As I made my way up to the counter, I was greeted by a flour-covered woman who, if I was smelling correctly, was carrying a baby, the scent hinting at a shifter, but she didn’t smell shifter, so who freaking knew. Of all the strengths shifters had, I got smell instead of brawn, or maybe eyesight, so I could get rid of my dumb glasses.
“Coffee and one of these, whatever they are.” I ordered my food as she just stared at me.
“Holy snikies. Are you her?” She wiped her hands on her apron before extending one my way.
“Her who?” I had been told I looked familiar all my life, so I conjectured that was what was happening here.
“The woman who bought my meemaw’s house.” She beamed. “Milla.”
“I am.” It was a bit awkward. The remote sale, followed by the antique furnishings in the home had me believing I purchased it from someone elderly, not this young pregnant gator mate. I took her hand and gave it a quick shake, unsure what else to do.
“I’m Tansy. I hate to do this to you, but I need to come get something from the house.”
“Not a problem. You can get anything out of there you want. What do you need?”
“Seems the thing is, I’m not sure. Meemaw just told me to grab it from the attic, so that was what I was going to do.”
“Meemaw?” I knew she meant grandmother, but how that fit into the equation was still a bit unclear.
“Yeah, she used to live there before she…passed.”
Great. I was living in a dead grandmother’s house.
“I’m sorry. Yes, come get whatever you need, or I can bring it to you.”
Tansy went around getting my order, which she put on a tray instead of in a bag. Looked like I was dining in.
“Thanks. These are king-nuts, by the way, and they are highly addictive. Ask your cousin. He eats them every day.”
And the awkwardness of before was dwarfed by the now-humongous elephant in the room. My cousin.
“My cousin is your mate?” I asked, trying to connect as many dots as possible. I wanted this. I did. Reconnecting with family, now that my father was gone, was huge. Almost a compulsion, even.
“He is.” Her smile lit up the room. Holy cow, my cousin was going to be a dad. I still saw him as the child I’d shot on more than one occasion, but time had passed, and I wasn’t the only one who’d grown up.
“I haven’t seen him in—”
“Since you shot him in the face.” She pushed my hand, and the twenty it held, away before carrying the tray over to a table. Girl talk it was, then.
“Yeah, that.” I scampered behind her, sitting where she placed the tray as she sat across from me. The coffee was black, and I usually took sugar, but I took a sip anyway. It wasn’t half bad as it was. “He still mad?”
“Naw, he knows I find his scar sexy.” She grabbed a sugar granule off of my plate and popped it in her mouth. “Justice ain’t too keen on you being back, though, and I want to know all the reasons for that.” Tansy seemed far more amused than upset by my presence, so I decided to give her all the details.
“It’s a long story, one that began with him sprouting teeth and ended with me nearly drowning his sorry ass.”
She propped her head in her hands, elbows glued to the table as if I were telling the most amazing story ever written and, three coffees later, she knew every last detail of that day down to the wood that embedded in his hip and caused a scar I was sure he still sported.
Goddess, I hadn’t thought about Justice in years. We’d had such fun back then until his gator got all assholish. It was a shame he never let go of that one incident. At least Etienne seemed to be okay with me being here, and that was something. Maybe you could go home again even if the stupid song filled your brains with how it never worked out. Goddess, I hoped so.