Page 62 of Finding His Fox

Nate bit his lower lip and nodded. “You risked your life to save a kid. Cal, that’s just like you.”

“Is Mitchell okay?” I asked, concerned for the young cub.

Nate nodded. “After the doctor tended to him, he wouldn’t leave your bedside either. His parents came by five minutes ago and took him home.”

“Good,” I said, feeling a sense of satisfaction. “I didn’t fail.”

“No,” Nate agreed.

He leaned over and kissed me. I searched his eyes, wanting to ask him what was bothering him, but then decided to leave it for another day.

Nate looked worn out and could use a break.

Chapter 18

Nate

I found myself aimlessly wandering through the rooms of my old family house, unsure of why I was there.

I didn’t particularly enjoy being here, but for some reason, today, it was the only place where I felt like I could think.

I entered my old living room and stopped by a shelf filled with picture frames and randomly picked one up.

It was our last happy family picture, taken during Christmas. In the photo, it was me, Jim, and Donnie, standing in front of our tree, unaware of the year that lay ahead.

Little did we know how our lives would be turned upside down.

After Cal’s encounter with the wendigo a few days ago, I finally understood how my dad, Donnie, felt when Jim was dying.

The mere thought of losing Cal paralyzed me. I haven’t even been answering his calls or messages.

I felt guilty because I knew he was injured and I badly wanted to check up on him.

Yet the thought of seeing Cal all bloodied and bruised, wrapped in bandages, filled me with dread.

Deep down, I realized that I had been avoiding Cal because I didn’t want to see him in such a vulnerable state. I hated myself for that.

I asked Ian how Cal was doing. Ian said he was doing well, physically speaking.

When Ian asked why I didn't just visit Cal and find out for myself, I stopped replying to Ian's messages too.

Just then, I heard a knock, and Rory entered the living room.

“There you are, Nate. Josie’s asking if you want to join us for lunch.”

“Yeah, just finishing up here,” I replied, setting the picture back on the shelf.

Rory walked over and took a look at the photo I had been holding.

“That’s a great picture. Was Jim already diagnosed there?” he asked carefully.

“I think so, maybe,” I said, feeling a bit uneasy. I didn’t like discussing that period of my life.

Rory nodded, understanding my reluctance to talk about it.

“Jim was a trooper, you know. Never saw a stronger man,” he remarked.

“What do you mean?” I asked, curious.