Page 42 of Real

“Um, four then. So they can have friends. And maybe we could have a dog or a cat or a fish.”

I laugh. “Okay. How about all three?” It’s easy to be generous when these pets are just imaginary.

Buddy grins with delight. “Really? You’d let me have all three?”

I notice a sleeping dog swirls into place on the floor by the fire, and a cat now perches on the mantle. Even a little fishbowl appears on the kitchen counter.

I don’t think Buddy notices, though. He’s too caught up in me.

“Sure. I’d let you have anything you wanted, Buddy. God, I’d do anything to make you happy if you were mine.” I let the longing seep into my voice. He deserves to hear it, even though it makes me feel naked before him.

“Yeah?” he says, his voice breaking with emotion.

“Of course.”

18

Buddy

H’s dreams are beautiful. He talks about teaching our little ones to whittle and which mushrooms are safe to eat. His fantasies are full, mature things that have had time to grow thick and healthy in his mind. There was a time when he had reason to think his dreams could come true, and I admit I’m a little jealous about that.

The only dream I ever really let myself have was the dream to get away from Dorian.

Even when Dorian and I were trying to burrow together, I still didn’t know what I wanted. I guess I was young back then. Just a baby. All I knew is that I wanted to be loved, and it became clear very quickly that I wasn’t worthy of that.

“Are mushrooms good?” I ask H. “Candlewick doesn’t like them. He said Dorian only ate them because they were healthy.”

H chuckles. It’s a comfortable and calm chuckle. He seems so relaxed. “Not everybody likes them, but my alpha dad used to go mushroom hunting with us when the compound was struggling, and there wasn’t enough to eat. We’d hike far away from the cabins, where no one else was, and we’d feast on berries, mushrooms, and roots. We were still hungry. Especially because the hike burned a lot of calories, but eating felt good.”

“You were close with your alpha dad?” There was a time when I thought a lot about why I couldn’t remember my parents. Dorian said I was an orphan, but I don’t even remember missing them. I wonder what it would feel like to have someone watch over you like that, to love you just because you exist.

Candlewick said parents were overrated, and their love always had a price. I didn’t fantasize about having them very much after that.

“I was close to both of my dads before the breeding pits. I went to the compound after we were rescued because I hoped they wouldn’t shun me the way the red wolf shifter religion expected them to. They were good parents to me growing up, but my alpha dad told me I had to make a life on my own. That God had spoken. My omega dad didn’t argue.”

Maybe parents really were overrated.

The walls around us melt into white until H and I are sitting in front of a space heater. The kitchen and all the framed photos are gone. The fantasy is over.

Coming back to reality is painful. If the Illusors can’t help me, I have to return to Dorian all alone. The idea of cooking and cleaning for Dorian by day and hiding in that tiny space all night is too much to bear now.

“Are you ready, skatten min? Or do you want me to fetch someone else to create another illusion for you? I could have them recreate the cabin?” the Illusor woman says, pulling me out of my morbid thoughts.

I can’t kill Dorian. As much as I hate him, I could never muster up the courage to kill anyone.

I climb off H’s lap and pull the pillow out of my shirt. Having it there didn’t feel more ridiculous than wearing a shirt in the first place. I’ve been naked and alone for so long that I didn’t realize what it would feel like to walk amongst other people and be counted as one of them. What if the Illusors can help me become real? That means I could potentially carry a child, doesn’t it?

How would it feel to hold a baby in my arms and know they were mine? That I’m allowed to love them as much as I want?

Even though I want to stay in the perfect cabin the Illusor created for me, I need to know whether that possibility is a reality.

“I’m ready to see Skatt,” I say.

H stands up next to me. In the harsh light of the white room, I realize he isn’t my H anymore. The man before me isn’t the fantasy I let myself fall into so deeply. I loved being enough for him, and I loved the idea of building a life with him. But if we could ever stay together, would the reality be as good? Or would it all fall apart, the way it had with Dorian?

I guess there’s no way to find out. The H of my fantasies doesn’t exist. The man before me is Timothy, and he doesn’t live in an imaginary cabin with me. He’s a real man who I have no claim to.

He takes my hand, and we step onto the platform. I’m not entirely sure why. It just seems like the thing to do.

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