Fox's Glade My silent lips

When the doubt flickered across her face he saw it—he actually saw it, so focused on her that it was hard not to. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone before he could think of anything to say that might ease her mind. Whether or not Merrick truly understood, he had never thought to ask at the time. All he knew was that the boy did not care or, if he did, it was expressed in a backward sort of way. Would telling her that be beneficial to her, though? Would knowing that her son didn’t care make it easier for her to move past it? The only answer he could come up with was no; he would not tell her the full truth, not then, not unless the young male suddenly returned.

But had she seen through his little lie? He suspected that she had as her tone shifted, bringing him to pull his ears back—he was hurt, and by something so simple as a mere tone of voice. “I want to make things better,” he tried, desperately grasping for the way things were just moments ago. “For you, for Laurel and the kids—for Lucas.” Lucas. Truthfully, he was hardly even a stranger, they’d never known anything of one another. But there was still something there, a feeling in the pit of his stomach that reared its head each time he thought of the child as being dead. He was too late to change anything there, too late to make anything better, but there were still others. Lucas’ siblings and half-siblings, Laurel, Indra… they were all still alive, they hadn’t gone anywhere.

Perhaps he had time.

“Can I have another chance—a chance to fix what I did?”