Chapter 103

DEREK

I’d never felt more nervous about knocking on a door in my life.

And that included negotiating with rival Alphas and walking into rogue territory with a barely-functioning truce.

This was worse.

Because this was Aiden.

Because I’d let him down.

Elena opened the front door of the Moonstone estate before I had a chance to knock twice. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a few days, but she was holding herself steady—shoulders squared, mouth neutral.

No warmth, no bite. Just controlled coolness.

“Hey,” I said.

She stepped aside. “He’s in the sunroom.”

I started to thank her, but her hand lightly touched my arm. I looked down to find her eyes locked on mine.

“You better fix it.”

I nodded. No excuses.

At the door of the room was a childishly written sign that said ‘NO ALPHAS ALLOWED.’

I winced. And stepped inside.

Aiden was sitting cross-legged on the floor with crayons spread around him like a sunburst, scribbling on a folded piece of construction paper. He didn’t look up when I came in.

“Hey, buddy,” I said, kneeling down a few feet away. “That for someone special?”

He shrugged, still coloring.

My chest tightened.

The last time I saw him—at the restaurant—I’d walked out mid-meatball to run to Cassandra. Left him blinking across the table with a napkin in his lap and marinara on his chin.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” I asked gently. “Just you and me?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then he stood up slowly, set the crayon down, and gave a quiet, “Okay.”

Not eager. Not angry. Just… hesitant.

But it was a start.

Elena met us at the door with sunscreen, a hat, and a thermos of water. She knelt down, adjusting Aiden’s collar like she was resisting the urge to say more.

“I’ll be careful,” I said.

“I know,” she replied, but her eyes didn’t soften. “But be good.”

I gave her a small nod. “I will.”

We walked in silence for a while, heading down the slope behind the estate toward the training fields. I kept my hands in my pockets, waiting.

“Wanna show me around?” I asked after a minute. “I don’t know the grounds very well.”

He kicked at a pebble. “You’ve been here before.”

“Not with a tour guide as cool as you.”

That earned me a side-eye. Barely. But again—progress.

He pointed toward the east. “That’s my treehouse.”

I smiled. “Did you build it?”

“No. Mason and Logan did. But I picked where it goes. Mom said it was a good ‘defensible location.’”

“Smart.”

“Yeah. It has a rope ladder. And a trapdoor for supplies. And a walkie-talkie in case I see a bear or something.”

“See any yet?”

He shook his head. “Just a raccoon that tried to steal my sandwich.”

“Trash pandas will get you every time.”

A tiny smile tugged at the edge of his mouth.

He led me past the stables, which smelled exactly like I remembered—hay, leather, and horse sweat—and then out toward the garden trails that wound through the back half of the estate.

“You have a favorite place?” I asked. “Somewhere you go when you want to be alone?”

He hesitated, then nodded and changed direction. I followed him down a narrow trail I hadn’t noticed before, hidden behind a dense patch of honeysuckle. The path opened into a clearing that edged onto a small, quiet lake—smooth as glass, rimmed with reeds and willow trees.

A wooden dock stretched into the water.

Aiden padded down to the edge and sat, dangling his feet over the side.

I followed and sat beside him.

The water was cool on my ankles. A breeze rustled the trees around us, gentle and warm.

“I’m really sorry,” I said finally.

He didn’t answer.

“I shouldn’t have left you at the restaurant. I know that was our time. You were excited. And I messed it up.”

Still nothing.

“A good friend of mine was hurt. She saved my life a long time ago, and I thought she needed me.”

I paused.

“But even if that’s true… I didn’t handle it right. And I want you to know—I get it. I let you down.”

Aiden was quiet for a long time.

Then, softly: “I think the meatballs weren’t as good because you weren’t there.”

I blinked. “You know what? I think you’re right.”

He looked over at me.

“I’m serious,” I said, leaning in like I was telling him a secret. “You didn’t hear this from me, but… Nonna Lucia? She’s a witch.”

His eyes widened.

“A good witch,” I added quickly. “She puts a spell on the meatballs when I eat them. Makes sure they taste perfect.”

He grinned. “I want magic meatballs!”

“I’ll take you back,” I promised, laughing. “Just you and me this time. We’ll sit in the corner booth and order three plates. One for each of us, and one just for leftovers.”

“With extra breadsticks.”

“Obviously.”

He kicked his feet a little in the water. “Okay.”

I let the silence settle again, but it felt easier now. Lighter.

We sat there for a few more minutes before I asked, “So, did your mom let you try out the dirt bike yet?”

His shoulders slumped. “No.”

“Too soon? She not think you’re healed enough?”

“No. It’s not that.” He picked at a blade of grass. “It’s ‘cause I don’t know how to ride a bike without training wheels.”

“Ah.”

I nodded like that made perfect sense.

Then: “Want me to teach you?”

He looked up like I’d offered him a golden ticket.

“YES!!”

We practically ran back to the house. I checked in with Elena, who—after a long, dramatic pause—reluctantly gave us permission. But only after equipping Aiden like he was about to enter battle: helmet, elbow pads, knee guards, gloves.

“If he gets a scratch, I will blame you personally,” she said.

“I accept my fate.”

We took the bike to the big circular driveway out front. It was wide, smooth, and had just enough slope to make it perfect for practice. I adjusted the seat while Aiden buzzed around my legs with excitement.

“Okay,” I said, steadying the bike. “You hop on. Feet on the pedals. I’m gonna hold the back until you get your balance.”

He climbed on, a little wobbly. “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t.”

We started with slow rolls. I walked behind him, one hand gripping the seat and the other steadying the handlebars.

He fell.

Twice.

“I can’t do it,” he said, arms crossed and eyes brimming with frustration.

“You can,” I said gently. “And I’ll be here until you believe it too.”

The third try, he got a little farther. Then a little farther still. Each time, I felt the shift—the second he started trusting himself more than me. And then he got it. He found his balance.

“Don’t let go,” he said again.

“I won’t,” I said.

But I already had.

He kept going, pedaling harder, wind in his face, the kind of wild joy that only comes from doing something you were sure you couldn’t.

I stood still, watching him ride toward the far end of the driveway.

Watching my son—my son—ride away from me.

And loving every second of it.

Aiden shouted, “I’M DOING IT!”

I smiled.

“Yeah,” I shouted. “You are!”

I turned toward the house, instinctively wanting to share the moment. And there she was.

Elena. Standing behind the upstairs window.

Watching.

I raised a hand, not sure what I expected. A smile. A wave. Maybe just a nod.

But she turned away.