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“You really want me here for this?”
The smile he gave her came from the bottom of his heart. “You know him best. You were there for all of it. Don’t tell me you don’t still remember the context of every single photo or video.” He pulled her over to the couch. “I want your commentary. The behind-the-scenes details. All the dirt you’ve got on him.”
She raised a brow.
“I need ammo for our next game night. Nothing like pulling out an embarrassing story from his childhood to make him flounder while playing pool.”
Her light laughter was like a balm for his soul.
They settled in on the couch, going through the box with the baby photos first. His heart both aching and full of warmth, wistful and mesmerized, he listened to her talk about what Basil had been like as an infant, her stories following the path of the photos she pulled out of the box.
How he’d learned to walk faster than Lily, making his sister screech at him in envy. How he’d always pull off his socks, and when caught doing it, would run away with flailing arms, the socks still clutched in his hands. How he’d had a beloved plush giraffe that he’d dragged everywhere, until it’d become so wrung out that it had almost fallen apart. How Hazel had tracked down two more giraffes exactly like it even though the toy had been discontinued by the manufacturer, just to make sure Basil had had backup.
They reached the box with Basil as a kindergarten kid, and one photo showed him grinning with one of his front teeth missing.
“Oh, this was so funny.” Hazel sat up, her gaze on the picture. “See, he’d just lost his first tooth, but he accidentally swallowed it, and he was so distraught because now he couldn’t put the tooth under his pillow for the tooth fairy—”
“Excuse me, what?” He leaned to the side to better stare at Hazel.
“The tooth fairy. You know, kids put their first lost tooth under—”
“I know what the fucking tooth fairy is. I’m just appalled that you witches would entertain that bloody myth.”
She tilted her head and gave him a droll look. “It’s just a story.”
“Well, yeah, obviously, but the issue is that the fae actually exist, and I thought witches knew better than to indoctrinate their kids into selling body parts to those greedy fuckers—”
She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.
“Aaaaand I should really stop talking now if I want to keep hearing your insightful commentary.” He nodded and focused back on the photo in his hand. “Because, yes, I’m a very smart male indeed, and I like all my intestines inside my body. Figuratively.”
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her lips twitch up into a smile.
They continued going through the photos, and each picture, each story, every funny, sad, or heartwarming anecdote was a piece in the mosaic of Basil’s early life, now spreading out before Tallak. By the time they started watching the videos, Tallak felt like he might have actually known this kid, and the recordings of Baz laughing, running around, or excitedly telling a story in front of the camera completed the still-life impressions of the photos with sounds and movements.
Basil had been such a bright, happy, ray-of-sunshine child, kindhearted and friendly, considerate of others, and with such a positive attitude. In many ways, quite the opposite of Tallak, but there were traits of himself he saw in the boy, too, not to mention the strong physical resemblance.
Watching Hazel’s expressions when she reminisced about Baz was just as enthralling as the tales themselves. Her face transformed, making her seem decades younger, fresh with the affection for her children, awed by all the little things they’d taught her. It was only at the mentions of Robert that her shine would dim. She wouldn’t go into detail, but it was clear from the way she spoke and the tone of her voice that Robert’s presence in Basil’s life had caused the boy distress, had made him feel unwanted and unloved by the man who should have acted as his dad.
Once more, Tallak felt the intense desire to pummel the bastard into a bloody mess. It hurt him, deep inside, knowing his son had never had the fatherly love he deserved.
But another thing became apparent as they went through the photos and videos, as he listened to Hazel recount the details of each of those moments, and it soothed some of the pain over Robert’s treatment of Basil—Hazel was a phenomenal mom. She’d given Baz such warmth and affection, truly raised him as her own, had gone above and beyond to make sure he’d been happy, that he’d grown up with a foundation of trust, respect, love, and an unfailing moral grounding, despite the lack of emotional support from her shit husband.
Tallak could not have wished for a better adoptive mother for his son.
Throat raw, his chest tight with appreciation and longing, he gazed at her profile as she watched the video on the screen, his attention rapt on the way her eyes gleamed as she looked at the shenanigans of a young Basil. How her lips quirked at his adorable antics, her features softening with love.
Such love.
It was so palpable, drenching her energy, warming the entire room. The kind of unconditional affection that wrapped around him like a blanket, sank deep into his bones. Basil was blessed to have her as a mom.
And I’d be blessed to have her as my mate.
The urge inside him, ever-present, always just a breath away from making him tremble with need, rose to the surface again. Being this close to her without having claimed her yet, it physically hurt. Like someone pulled on an integral part of him, and the force of it scraped along the underside of his skin, everywhere. His pulse sped up, and every fast, furious beat of his heart seemed to echo in his mind. Take her. Take her. Take her.
He clenched his hands into fists, gritted his teeth. Not yet. He needed more time. She still seemed too skittish.
Hazel looked at her watch and startled. “Oh, shoot. I need to lay the next ward point, and then I’ll have to get ready to go out on patrol.” She faced him, and he schooled his features so as not to show the fucking battle he was fighting inside. “You’re welcome to keep watching, but I have to scram.”
