Page 11 of Dragon's Midlife Secret Baby
Beck bent down into the car to see Corbin smiling at him. “Hey, buddy. Let’s get you unbuckled.” The straps and snaps were unfamiliar, giving him a moment’s pause as he tried to free the little boy from his car seat. Fortunately, there were only somany options. He managed to squeeze open the plastic buckle across Corbin’s chest and easily found the big red button that released the rest of the belt from the car seat. His little body was warm and wiggly as he picked him up and brought him around to the stroller.
Chelsea had just loaded the bag into the bottom of it, and she smiled at Beck as he met her there and set Corbin inside.
His dragon churned within him again at seeing her smile at him like that. She was beautiful, but it wasn’t just her physical appearance. It was far deeper than that, and he was looking forward to rediscovering his mate. As they made their way out of the parking lot and onto a sidewalk, Beck noticed she was rubbing her lips together and tipping her head up toward the sky. “What’s wrong?”
She immediately swung her head around to look at him. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know.” He was getting tired of saying those words, even if they were the truth. “Something about what you were doing, I guess. You just looked like you were in deep thought. Am I wrong?”
“No,” she said, her voice a bit tight. “It’s just that—before—you were always good at knowing my moods or what I wasthinking.”
“Is that nice, or is that annoying?”
“Nice,” she replied, but then she laughed a little. “Okay, maybe a little annoying. I couldn’t hide anything from you. I guess I still can’t, but right now, I’ll take it.”
“So, are you going to tell me what you were thinking about?” he pressed. They crossed a street, and the asphalt turned to brick. Various shops occupied the beautiful old buildings on either side of them, many of them also made of brick.
She tapped her fingers on the stroller handle. “I’m just worried about you. You seem just as eager to get your memories back as I am, but I don’t want you to feel a bunch of pressure to just walk out the door today and suddenly recognize everything.”
“That’s good, because so far, I don’t.” He laughed a little.
She did, too. “There’s also the fact that what you went through yesterday is more than most people can handle, both physically and mentally.”
“Maybe so,” he acknowledged, “but I don’t think I’m so fragile that you have to worry. I’ve had a lot of good food at your place and slept better than I have in a long time. If it makes you feel any better, I promise to tell you when I want to stop and go back.”
She bobbed her head enthusiastically. “Okay.”
When they reached a cross street, Beck looked to his right and saw several people posing for pictures in front of an old brick building with arched windows. “Is there something special about that place?”
“Hocus Pocuswas shot there, or at least one of the scenes was.” When he waited expectantly, she continued. “It’s a really popular movie from the nineties. There are a lot of shoot locations around town, and people come to see them.”
“Oh, okay.” He watched as the tourists moved on. A trio of women quickly posed as well. Everyone knew a little something about this place but him. “Did we come here a lot?”
“Once or twice, I think. You were new in town, so we did quite a few touristy things. It gave us something to do while you got to know the area and we got to know each other. You liked anything that had to do with history, and there’s plenty of it here in Salem, with the witch trials and everything.”
“Right.” That rang a faint bell. Beck didn’t know the details, but he knew it’d happened. “Is it a coincidence that you and your coven are here? Or are you here because of the history?”
“I guess it’s a little on the nose, isn’t it?” She sidestepped a man handing out flyersfor walking tours. “Mom moved here back in the seventies when she was twenty-one. Thanks to the counterculture of the sixties and seventies, there was a lot of renewed interest in spirituality and mysticism. That sort of centered itself in Salem since it already had a history with the witch trials. Mom knew that if she was going to really focus on her spiritual journey, she needed to be living in a place that accepted that. It’s hard to learn your craft when you’re worried about someone persecuting you for it. She’d joined a coven but decided to form her own that was strictly for witches who are also shifters.”
“And doyoulike it here?” he asked. She wanted to help his mind start working again, but Beck found he was even more curious about Chelsea than he was himself.
“Definitely. I couldn’t really imagine myself anyplace else. It’s funny, though, because I didn’t come to really appreciate all the tourist attractions until you came along and we explored them together. Salem feels a little different when you grow up here, but it’s nice to get a new perspective.”
Corbin leaned forward in his stroller, straining against the straps and pointing.
Beck turned. A young man was set up on the sideof the brick street with a homemade drum kit. He was playing along with a background track.
Corbin was so excited that he was trying to unbuckle himself.
“Hang on. I’ll help you.” Beck bent down and unfastened the buckles. They were similar to what was on Corbin’s car seat, which helped. He knelt next to the boy, keeping one tiny hand in his as Corbin stomped his feet along to the music.
Beck’s heart twisted inside him. Corbin was an amazing kid. He was a good distraction from all that Beck had going on in his heart and mind, but he also reminded Beck of all the fatherhood he’d already missed out on. Chelsea went through her entire pregnancy and labor without him at her side, as he should have been. That was shameful enough, but knowing his son had already changed so much from infancy made him feel guilty all over again. He hadn’t been there for Chelsea, nor had he been for Corbin. It wasn’t right.
The drummer had spotted Corbin and got even more enthusiastic as he finished his song. “Hey, little man. Why don’t you come help me out?” He held out a drumstick.
Beck walked his son over there. This drummer was a stranger to them, but Beckwouldn’t let anything happen to Corbin. He may have known his son for less than twenty-four hours, but already the dragon inside him had claimed this boy as his heir.
“Hit that drum right there,” the performer said, tapping his own stick on a broad, low drum that was right in front of Corbin.
