Midnight Mate

My mom waved from the screen door as I rolled to a stop beside her aging SUV. In the graying twilight, she looked older. Sad. I hesitated, but then she blinked, and the drawn lines were gone, replaced by a wide smile. I got out of the car as she descended the steps to meet me. She looked as fragile as glass if I looked closely—so I didn’t look. Instead, I hugged her tight and let her smooth my disheveled hair. I’d ridden for hours with the windows down, hoping the fresh air would do me good. But now that I was here, that familiar heaviness had already settled in my gut. And the scent that hung around this place—all of it added up to one thing.
The feeling of home.
Fuck, this was going to suck.
“Easton. It’s so good to have you home.”
I made some weird noise that wasn’t even English, but she didn’t care. Looping her arm through mine, she dragged me toward the house. “Come on. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Where’s Dad?”
The question alone left a sour taste in my mouth.
“Working late. He’ll be home soon.”
I bit my tongue. We both knew he wasn’t working and he wouldn’t be home soon. But I’d lost that argument a long time ago.
“Andy.” A goofy mutt greeted me at the door, tongue first. I laughed and bent low to let him slash his tongue across my arms and neck.
“That’s enough, Andy.” My mom batted him away.
“Good to see you, buddy.” I hoped my enthusiasm for the dog didn’t outshine my enthusiasm for her.
“He’s still got more energy than any of us.” She led the way to the kitchen.
I followed my mom down the hall, avoiding direct eye contact with a single family photo. If I was careful, maybe I wouldn’t notice I’d moved back. Then again, the brick in my stomach said otherwise.
By the time I got to the kitchen, my leg had already started to ache. I settled on a barstool and watched as my mom set a brown glass bottle in front of me. I took it, swigged appreciatively, then set it down again, frowning as the taste of beer registered.
“Used to be root beer you’d serve up while I watched you cook.”
She offered a wry smile. “Times have changed, I guess.”
“I guess.”
I didn’t bother to tell her I rarely drank.
She stirred the chili then eyed me. “So. How’s the knee?”
“Temperamental.”
She smirked. “I asked about the knee, not its owner.”
“Very funny.”
I took another swig then glanced around. The kitchen was bigger than I remembered. The Home Sweet Home sign above the sink was still there, though. As was the chip in the edge of the counter. I remembered that particular day like it was yesterday.
I shuddered at the memory.
“I read the medical notes you sent over,” Mom said, pulling me back to the moment. “Your doctor said you’ll recover fully as long as you stick to the therapy he recommended.”
I grimaced.
Physical therapy shouldn’t have been necessary for someone like me. Rehab and slow healing were for humans. But for some reason, at twenty-eight, my supernatural healing had decided to suddenly flake out. And now, the only docs in the world I could trust were those who knew what I really was. The universe had forced me back to the one place I said I’d never return. Fate was a cruel bitch.
“I booked you the best in town, you know.”
I looked up and found my mother watching me expectantly.
“Thanks, Mom.”
She beamed, and I knew my appreciation meant a lot. Which somehow made me feel even worse.
Another swig.
Steve would kill me if he saw me now. But Steve wasn’t here.
“I’m happy to help. We both are.”
Both. She meant Dad. I barely managed to hold in my snort.
“Physical therapy starts first thing tomorrow,” she went on. “Here’s the information and your schedule.”
She slid a sheet of paper toward me, and I read her elegant handwriting as it outlined my life for the next three months. Physical therapy three times a week at a sports rehab clinic in town.
Ice baths once a day. Heat twice.
It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Except that I was here. In the Falls. With him. And I might never snowboard again.
My gaze caught on where she’d scrawled the therapist’s name, and I froze.
Of course.