Daddy, I Want a Mommy for Christmas

17. The Truth of It

Caleb's POV:

“Daddy... Daddy!”

I groaned, pulled out of my dream. I blinked to see my son standing above me, his small hands shaking my shoulder hard enough to drag me out of sleep in a jolt.

I blinked again, disoriented.

"Milo?"

It was too early... wasn't it?

"It really was. After last night, after you were being an absolute idiot..." Black started his tirade the hundredth time since last night. Of course, he wasn't happy about what had happened. He wanted... nothing but to claim Elena as his... but she wasn't his... ours to claim.

"Shut up. I am trying to concentrate here."

The cabin wrapped in that grey, early-morning hush that came before dawn really decided to show itself. My head throbbed faintly—whiskey and too little sleep—and for half a second, I didn’t know where I was.

"What is it, buddy? Why are you not in bed?" I groaned, rubbing my head.

“Daddy,” Milo whispered again, voice high, eyes wide. “Where’s Lena?”

I pushed myself upright instantly, sleep and headache completely wiped away.

“What?” I asked, my heart thundering. What was he saying? Was this a dream? “Lena?”

Milo stood beside the couch, eyes too wide, pajama sleeves twisted in his fists. Panic clung to him in that way kids got when their world shifted half an inch without warning.

“She—she’s not in her room,” he said quickly, words tumbling over each other. “I looked. I called her. I think... daddy, she gone.”

My heart stuttered. Panic clawed at my chest... furious.

Oh f**k.

"You f****d up, you stupid piece of s**t," Black admonished, howling in anger. I ignored him.

I swung my legs over the bed and stood, the floor cold beneath my bare feet. “No,” I said, too fast, too sure for something I hadn’t checked yet. “She wouldn’t just—”

But the words died in my throat as I walked out and ran up the stairs. The room door was open.

The bed was made. Too neat. No rumpled blankets, no jacket thrown over the chair, no boots by the door. The air was clean—wrongly clean. Empty of her scent in a way that made my chest tighten painfully.

“She left,” Milo whispered behind me. "I saw."

I swallowed hard.

“Hey,” I said, forcing myself to turn, to kneel in front of him and put my hands on his small shoulders. “Hey. It’s okay.”

He shook his head fiercely. “Did I do wrong? She not like me?”

“No,” I said immediately, the word sharp with truth. “No, buddy. You didn’t do anything. None of this is because of you. You hear me?”

"It is because of your daddy," my wolf added in my head. "You... Caleb, you are why she left."

His lower lip trembled.

“She said she stay.” The words hit me harder than anything else could have.

“I know,” I said, softer now. "I'm sorry."

The cabin felt wrong without her.

Quieter. Colder.

I pressed a hand to the counter and exhaled slowly through my nose, fighting the urge to put my fist through the wall.

Did I chase her away?

"You know you did."

Fuck. I didn't want to. That was my intention. I was trying to not hurt her in my need.

Milo sniffed behind me.

I turned back to him, forcing my face into a calm, steady mask. “Lena had to leave early,” I said. “The roads were clearing. She probably didn’t want to wake us.”

“But she didn’t say goodbye,” he said, voice small.

I crouched again, meeting his eyes. “Sometimes grown-ups make dumb choices,” I admitted quietly. “Doesn’t mean they don’t care.”

I had no idea if Lena was the one who made the dumb choice... or me.

He nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t convinced.

Neither was I.

I stood, walking to the window. The snow outside had slowed, the sky pale and indifferent. Tire tracks cut through the fresh dust in the driveway, and the shovel lay next to the door.

Milo blinked, staring, and then he pointed at the small snowman that sat on top of the mailbox.

"The snowman..." he whispered, running toward it, his eyes excited. It was tiny, but it held a small flower. "She left for me?"

"She did."

My chest tightened, something sharp and bitter curling beneath my ribs.

“Daddy?” Milo said again, softer this time.

“Yes, buddy?”

“We find her.”

The simplicity of it... the determination... nearly broke me.

I took a deep breath and turned back to him, forcing a smile onto my face, the kind that stretched too tight and threatened to crack. “How about pancakes?” I said lightly, changng the topic. I didn't know finding her would help... I didn't. “The big ones. With too much syrup.”

That earned me a small nod. A hesitant one.

As we moved toward the kitchen, my eyes lingered one last time on the empty doorway, on the quiet space she’d left behind. The air still felt different there, thinner somehow, like it remembered her even if she didn’t.

I told myself it was for the best. I told myself she was safer far away from me. But the quiet she left behind was louder than anything I’d ever heard.

And I had the sinking feeling that this—this soft, aching pang in my chest—was because I already missed her.

And so did my son.

***

Milo sat on the stool at the counter, swinging his legs while I poured batter onto the pan. The cabin slowly filled with the smell of cooking pancakes and melting butter, warm and familiar, trying, and failing, to cover the emptiness.

“Lena makes funny faces when she eats,” Milo said suddenly.

My hand stilled for half a second before I forced it to move again. “Yeah?”

“She always sticks her tongue out,” he continued seriously. “Like this when he play car.” He demonstrated, nearly falling off the stool in the process.

I snorted despite myself.

“She said it helps her concentrate.”

I flipped the pancake, throat tight. “She say a lot of things like that?”

Milo nodded. “She listens to me.”

That one landed straight in my chest.

“She likes you,” I said quietly.

“I like her too,” he replied without hesitation. Then his brows pulled together. “Is she mad at me?”

“No,” I said immediately. “No, Milo. Never.”

"You?"

"I don't know."

"Yes." Black huffed.

“Then why did she leave?”

I didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t hurt him.

So I plated the pancakes instead, sliding the stack toward him. “Eat,” I said gently. “They’ll get cold.”

He did, but slower than usual, poking at the syrup while I leaned against the counter with a mug of coffee I hadn’t tasted yet.

My phone rang. The sound was sharp in the quiet kitchen, slicing through the fragile normal we were pretending at. My heart jumped violently.

For half a breath, a ridiculous hope flared. Was it Elena calling to say she’d just gone out for something. That she was coming back. That she hadn’t really meant to disappear like that.

I knew it was only my wishful thinking, though.

Milo’s head snapped up. “Is it Lena?”

I swallowed and picked up the phone, already knowing. “No,” I said, frowning at the screen. “It’s Aunt Harper.”

His shoulders slumped. His smile disappeared.

I answered the call. “What?”

“What the f**k did you do?” Harper demanded, skipping hello entirely.

I turned away from Milo, lowering my voice but not my anger. “What did I do? What the f**k did you do, Harp? You’re the reason for this mess. How many times did I warn you not to meddle in things that don’t concern you?”

She let out a dry, humorless laugh. “This concerns me. You’re my stupid brother, and she’s my best friend.”

“And we are not dolls you can just shove together and expect everything to magically work out,” I snapped. “This isn’t one of your matchmaking fantasies.”

“Oh, please, it would have worked,” Harper shot back. “It didn’t work out because it was you. Once again, you chose to sabotage your own life, like a fool you are, Cal, and that's not my fault. f**k it, Caleb... why do you always do this?”

I clenched my jaw.

“Now you’re blaming me?” I cut in sharply. “How not surprising! Harper, you messed up like you always do, and you have no right to tell me otherwise.”

Silence crackled over the line for a beat.

Then her voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge. “I didn't mess up. I... I just gave her a space to land after..." She took a deep breath.

"She wasn't eighteen still," I said, sighing.

"But she still feels something, and I sent her there, because she needs closure. I pushed her because, she needs to move on, one way or the other."

That hit harder than I wanted it to.

"But you can't play goddess, Harp. It doesn't always work out the way you want. I..." I trailed off when she cleared her throat. "I didn't..."

“She wanted you, Caleb. She... liked you even after all these years. And you liked her too, even back then, even when you said no to her. You liked her, and now you have lost another chance. What if you never get a third one, Caleb? What then?"

I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know what I am talking. I know Elena,” she said quietly. “And I know you. And I know that when she runs, it’s because she already feels too much.”

I glanced back at Milo, who was watching me with too-quiet eyes.

“She left,” I said. “Without a word.” Like Amelia did. I knew it was wrong to blame Elena for this, but... I couldn't help it. She ran, and now I was left to answer Milo's confusion.

“She does that,” Harper said. “When she thinks staying will hurt more. She didn't run because she stopped caring. She ran because she cares too much.”

My grip tightened on the phone. “You need to stop interfering.”

“And you need to stop lying to yourself,” she shot back. “Because if you don’t go after her, Caleb—if you let this end like this—you’re going to regret it.”

I said nothing.

“You hear me?” she pressed.

“Yes,” I said finally.

She exhaled. “Good. Call me when you decide to stop being an idiot.”

The line went dead. I lowered the phone slowly, staring at the counter like it might give me answers.

Milo slid off the stool and walked over, syrup still on his fingers. “Daddy?”

I looked down at him.

“We are going to find her,” I whispered. “I don’t know when,” I said carefully. “Or how.”

“But we will,” he insisted, small eyes round, wide, filled with determination.

I nodded once. “Yeah, buddy.”

And that knot in my chest slowly unknotted.

"YES! Now, now, this I like. This is the Caleb I like." My wolf rejoiced.

"Whatever."

(-)