Page 96 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas
For the moment, that was enough.
My wife was still with me, and that would never change, but it didn’t mean there was no room in my heart for Jeannie and Max. I felt whole with them. My family felt whole with them. Addy, Eva, and I had been an incomplete unit, and now it feltright.
Time would reveal all, but I was ready to take that risk.
“All right,” I said, standing. “Are we ready to open some gifts?”
I looked at the elders, and every kid went silent. After what felt like a truly taunting pause, the elders at the center of the room nodded.
A triumphant cry sounded from everyone under the age of eighteen, and the massive body of kids surged on the presents, snatching up whatever was under their name. It was cacophony, it was chaos, but it was total and unabashedChristmas joy.
For the first time in several years, I was finally able to fully feel it.
And I couldn’t wait to see what the next year would bring.
Chapter 25
Jeannie
Bad Habits Die Hard
For the firsttime since I was sixteen, my life seemed truly stable.
Things weren’t perfect, of course, and sometimes my deadlines were so stacked together that it made my head spin, and my sleep schedule went to complete shit, but that was part and parcel of being a freelance editor.
What mattered was that everything else was going as brilliantly as I could ever hope. Actually,morebrilliantly than I could ever hope.
Despite my fears that everything would vanish once we returned to the real world, Remy and I had continued to casually date into the early months of spring. We weren’t quite at six months yet, but I didn’t foresee anything stopping us from getting that far. We still got along as well as ever, the sex was stillincredible, and our kids were still glued to each other like a book to its binding.
Sure, we didn’t get to see each other as much as we would like. The warming weather meant Remy was much busier with his landscaping business and his daughters were back in school, but we cherished the time that we did have together. Also, it gave Max the opportunity to hear all sorts of stories about what it was like and he was more eager than ever to go back to school in the upcoming fall. I was nervous for him, but it was time for my boy to get back out there.
As long as his doctor gave the go-ahead, of course, and I was certain he would.
It had only been a few months since that Christmas jamboree, but Max had hit a growth spurt, and he kept improving by leaps and bounds. Somewhere, in all the hubbub, he’d finally started growing again, and he had gained another five pounds. If he kept going like that, he was on track to be out of the “underweight” classification by the time he reentered school. If that wasn’t a victory, I didn’t know what was.
Of course, he still had his physical therapy and his online classes, but between that, socializing with Addy and Eva and their extended family, and me allowing him a bit more independence that was appropriate for a boy who was about to turn ten, he was flourishing.
Which is why I was concerned when he didn’t come down at his normal time on dollar book day.
Although money wasn’t as tight anymore—Remy insisted on helping me out with groceries—we still stuck to our expeditions to get those paperbacks. I figured even if we didn’t really need them, it was excellent bonding time for me and my son, a good way to get some exercise in, and a way to donate to the local library. A real win-win-win scenario.
“Hey, big guy!” I called up the stairs. “Did you need a little extra sleep today?”
That wouldn’t exactly have been shocking. Max had always had an issue with spring allergies, and he had definitely been sniffling a lot the last few days. I’d given him the medicine he was supposed to take, but antihistamines could only do so much. At least, it wasn’t nearly as much of a scare as when he had been so sick, but still, I didn’t like seeing him uncomfortable.
When there was no answer, concern lanced through me. There was a time when my son couldn’t draw on enough air to shout down the stairs, but now that he was doing so much better, I knew he reveled in projecting and did it whenever he could. So if he wasn’t using his full voice to call back to me, that probably meant that he couldn’t.
I knew he was in remission—Iknewthat—as it had changed the entire trajectory of our lives for the better, but that same cold terror gripped me as I raced up the stairs, fearing the worst.
I practically erupted into his bedroom, accidentally forgetting to knock, which was bad of me, but whatever. I would apologize once I knew Max was okay. Except he wasn’t there. His bed was empty, sheets thrown aside.
I heard the shower running and rushed to the bathroom. While that was a good sign, it didn’t stop the furious pounding of my heart. I knocked loudly, hoping I wasn’t startling my son but needing to know.
“Hey, big man, are you okay in there?”
I waited for him to tell me he was fine and that I had to stop being so nosy, but all I heard was a sniffle and a pregnant pause before Max answered, his voice so soft I could scarcely hear him. Not for the first time since learning that shifters were real, I found myself wishing I had their enhanced senses. I knew I would think differently once Max was a teenager and did all the things teenage boys did, but for now, I could think about a thousand-and-one useful applications for it.
“I think I might be sick.”
