Heart's Desire

Epilogue - Monty

~ Six months later  ~

Piercing screams startle me from sleep. I bolt from the couch where I'd lain down for a rest, and stumble to the front door, heart pounding hard and fast. Throwing it open, I see the cause of the sounds, and sag against the frame, hand pressed to my chest as relief replaces my instinctive fear.

Martin's kids, playing tag with Kit on the lawn in front of my house; I'd forgotten we'd agreed to watch them while he supervised some renovations on the old house he'd bought in town.

After his divorce was finalized by human law, it became clear that Elena had controlled nearly all the family's wealth. She left Martin the barest minimum she could, and he hadn't fought her for more. All he wanted was to never see her again. Then, with some help from the rest of us, he'd scraped together enough for a down payment, come to Spring Lakes, and found a sweet old fixer-upper close to a good school.

For having had their lives entirely upended and disrupted, the kids seemed happy with the change.

Martin had told me he'd made sure Elena never hurt them; that any violence got directed at him; but kids are perceptive. They might not have understood, completely, but they saw and understood enough. Their old house hadn't been a happy place, and Martin still blames himself for not getting them out of it sooner.

He's not the only one with lingering guilt, either. When Kit and I had gone back to Montana to help Martin move, I'd caught my dad watching him with a sad, curious look, even as he smiled and laughed with our mom. As we cleaned up after dinner, I'd asked him what was wrong.

"Martin lived with us, or less than a mile from us, for most of his life. He was always a happy, carefree boy, with that bright, mischievous smile. Seeing it again is wonderful. But I keep asking myself, 'When did my son stop smiling, and why did I not notice it?"

He shook his head and sighed.

"I guess, sometimes, when you're close to someone for long enough, you stop really seeing them. Start taking them for granted. Stop saying 'I love you,' because you figure the other person knows. Like you, Monty; I don't think you know how much you're loved. I'm glad you've got Kit to remind you of it, now."

I'm glad, as well, and as I watch him roll and tumble with Martin's kids in the grass, I vow to make sure Kit knows it, too.

~ ☾ ~

We've had a lot of 'firsts,' in the last six months. First real date. First trip to the beach. First time holding hands in public.

Kit has had many more 'firsts,' of his own, and I often have to remind myself of how restricted his life was before we found each other — of everything he's been through, and everything he's missed out on.

He's catching up fast, though, and devours books as if he needs them as much as food, or oxygen.

Maybe he does.

He spends a lot of time in Noah's bookstore, and in the public library, and on the phone I bought him, and I'm worried he's going to run out of things to read soon, but Noah reassures me.

"He's slowing down, already," he tells me. "It's like he was starving before, and 'wolfed' down knowledge like food. Now that he's not quite so hungry, he's learning to savor things, and to pick out what he likes best."

He was learning other things, as well — like how to pull my strings and push all my buttons, in the best way possible. He's got me wrapped around his finger, my little fox, but I don't mind.

I've got him, too.

~ ☾ ~

"Are you ready for this?"