Page 35 of That Defining Moment

“Basically.” Colin’s mouth twitched. “All while you make sure that he’s comfortable enough with you and Hamish to talk to you about what he’s getting up to with this Uriel. I wasn’t able to do that with you and Dane. I made you close off that side of your life to me, because every time you brought his name up I went rigid, and you could feel it, so you stopped telling me things. I don’t want you to make that mistake with Cassian. That’s the best way to drive him right to this alpha and his old situation.”

“You didn’t force me to do anything, Daddy.”

“I did. I made you choose between being honest with me and keeping the peace, and you chose the peace, because you’re a good boy who loves his father.” Colin sighed. “I should have been someone you could talk to about all of it. The good parts and the bad parts. Instead I made the bad parts into a door you couldn’t open in front of me, and by the time I realised my mistake, I’d already been locked out of that part of you, and I couldn’t help as much as I’d wanted to.”

Lysander pressed his face into the pillow and breathed through the ache in his chest. He could hear Diwa murmuring something into Colin’s hair, too low for the microphone to catch, and when he looked back at the screen his father’s eyes had closed, his head tipped sideways into Diwa’s hand.

“It’s all worked out, though,” Colin said, as Diwa’s fingers worked from his temple to the base of his skull. “My boys have both got good alphas. My little girl’s kicking away in my tummy, and my grandbaby’s nearly here. Then I’ve got this one—” He reached up without opening his eyes and patted Diwa’s cheek. “—rubbing my head like I’m a cat.”

“You’re my grumpy cat,” Diwa said.

Colin opened one eye and reached up to reposition Diwa’s hand. “Sander, go to bed. Kiss your alpha for me. And tell Cassian I said he’s to eat whatever he likes.”

“Night, Daddy.”

“Night, love.”

Lysander lay still for a moment, his mobile resting face-down on his chest. He rolled over and fitted himself against Hamish’s back, pressing his forehead between Hamish’s shoulder blades. Hamish made a low, inarticulate sound and reached behind him without waking, his hand finding Lysander’s hip and pulling him closer.

✦ ✧ ✦

Cassian had learned, after three weeks of increasingly pointed negotiations, to put on a robe after his morning practice, once Lysander had laid down the decree that there would be ‘no bare arses on the kitchen chairs’.

Lysander heard the back door open as he was flipping the last pancake, followed by the slap of bare feet on the kitchen tiles and the rustle of synthetic fleece. The fuzzy light-blue robe, picked out together at Kmart, made a distinctive swishing sound as Cassian moved so that Lysander could track him by it.

Cassian rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped dead.

Three stacks of pancakes sat on the table, golden-brown and steaming, flanked by a bottle of maple syrup, a bowl of whipped cream, and a row of jam jars, though Lysander had deliberately left the marmalade in the cupboard.

Cassian clapped both hands together so hard that the sound cracked off the kitchen walls, and he grinned so widely that it looked physically painful. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet in the doorway, pale eyes wide and bright.

“Lysander.” The word came out reverent and wobbly. “You’ve made pancakes.”

“Sit down before they get cold, Cass.”

Cassian sat. He pulled the nearest stack towards himself and began loading his plate, eventually resorting to folding pancakes and wedging them in. The cream went on in a mound so tall that it slid sideways almost immediately. Cassian’s solution was to catch it with his finger and eat it before he reached for the syrup.

Hamish, who had been watching this display over the rim of his coffee mug, leaned forward. “Cass, maybe hold back on the syrup a little, yeah?”

Lysander kicked him under the table. He topped up his own coffee and let Cassian get two bites in before he spoke again. “Thank you for bringing Uriel to dinner last night, Cass.”

Cassian looked up at him. A smear of whipped cream sat on the tip of his nose, and his cheeks were already full.

“Did you like him?” Cassian asked, through the pancakes.

“I thought he was very polite.” Lysander wrapped both hands around his mug and held Cassian’s gaze over the top of it. “And I’m glad you wanted us to meet him. That was the right thing to do, and I’m proud of you for being so up front about things.”

Cassian’s chewing slowed, his gaze fixed on Lysander, wary, waiting for the “but” he could feel coming.

“I need you to keep doing that,” Lysander said. “Being honest with me and Hamish about when you’re seeing Uriel. Tell us where you’re going, and what you’re doing. I’d really like it if you texted me and Hamish whenever you’re with him, just so we know where you are.” He set his mug down and folded his arms on the table, leaning in. “And you can bring him here. This is your home, and you’re allowed to have people that you like and care for in it, but only when Hamish or I are here too.”

Cassian’s jaw had stopped moving entirely. His fork hovered with a piece of pancake speared on it, trailing a thin thread of syrup back to the plate.

“This isn’t because we don’t trust you,” Lysander continued. “It’s because you’re important to us, and when someone’s important to you, you look out for them. That’s what my daddy did for me, and now Hamish and I want to look out for you while you figure things out with Uriel.” He unfolded his arms and tapped the table once with his index finger. “Does that sound all right, Cassian?”

Cassian nodded. His mouth was too full to speak, but his nod was firm and immediate. “I like rules…” he pointed out, when he was eventually able to swallow his food. He fixed Lysander and Hamish with a serious stare. “Thank you, alpha. Thank you, Sander.”

Lysander pulled the serving plate across the table and slid two more pancakes onto Cassian’s plate, then dropped a generous spoonful of whipped cream on top in spite of Hamish’s grunt of disapproval.