Page 8 of Red River

My dad wasn’t exactly the parenting type—he preferred parties, hookups, and drugs. Things escalated when, after years of neglect, a neighbor found me rummaging through his fridge for food and called Family Services. My dad lost custody, deemed unfit to be a parent. But he told them who my biological sire was, and I ended up living with my alpha father, whose marriage barely survived it.

Luckily, my stepdad never held it against me. He always said I was just an innocent victim who didn’t ask to be born. My father, however, didn’t escape the backlash—he heard plenty of bitter words, and rightly so.

Sam didn’t hold a grudge against me either, even though my existence had caused his parents’ marital crisis.

He’d echo his dad, saying, "It’s not your fault, Archie. It’s his."

But Sam was fifteen years older than me, so it wasn’t really his problem anyway. He was a student in a distant city, and I only visited him occasionally.

Sam stayed in touch with River throughout his college years, and later rented an apartment near their house when he started working full-time.

I first met River during a holiday trip to visit Sam. It was a special day.

The redhead showed up with his small son, Riley. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I was six or maybe seven years old when the doorbell rang. Sam opened it, and River walked in, holding the baby in his arms.

And the magic… started.

I stood there, staring at him, completely speechless. I’d never seen anyone so beautiful in my short life. River had long, intensely red hair tied in a braid, large dark blue-green eyes with the longest auburn lashes. His face was delicate, sweet with flawless features and soft, full lips the color of raspberries. He was short—5’4".

When he sat down in the living room, before Sam could introduce us, I blurted out, "Your hair is so beautiful. Can I touch it?"

River laughed and nodded. "Of course you can. What’s your name?"

"I’m Archer, and everyone says I’m an alpha," I declared proudly as I attentively examined the end of his braid.

"You’ll grow up to be a big guy, I can tell! Such solid bones! Nice to meet you," he said with a smile, shaking my hand in a serious gesture.

His palm was warm and dry, and I wanted to hold it for much longer than was appropriate.

Sam seemed a little awkward introducing me as his unexpected half-brother. I could only guess that he’d told River my backstory because I caught the redhead giving me a sympathetic look. At that point, I’d only been living with them for about a year, and everyone treated me like an uncomfortable family secret.

During the visit, I sat on the couch, staring at River while he talked to Sam about his experiences as a first-time parent. I wasn’t interested in the conversation—I was fascinated by River.

Every now and then, River would glance my way and give me a friendly wink.

At one point, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I blurted out, "When I grow up, I’m going to marry you."

Sam laughed so hard he nearly choked and said it was impossible because River was already married.

I shot back, "You’ll see. River will be mine someday!" I said it with so much determination that both Sam and River went silent, raising their eyebrows and exchanging glances.

For a moment, my eyes met River’s dark blue-green ones, and something strange passed between us.

"You’ll be mine!" I repeated firmly, staring at River with an intensity that could have made anyone uncomfortable.

It was a bizarre moment. River looked stunned by my words, so much so that he gave a slight nod.

YES. He nodded!

I felt a chill, almost like Fate itself had reached out and brushed against us. Even Sam didn’t seem to notice it—maybe not even River—but I could sense it. There was already something unexplainable, a certain power I held over him.

As Sam walked River to the door that evening, I heard him whisper, "About Archer… my dad thinks he might be a little on the autism spectrum. He can be pretty direct sometimes!Though my father says he just wasn’t properly socialized as a toddler."

But River just shrugged and said, "I thought he was cute."

I had no idea what ‘autism’ meant back then, but I knew what ‘cute’ meant—and I preened a bit.

I saw River again when I was about eight or nine, while spending some vacation time with Sam, and River visited us a few times. By then, his son Riley was three, and he had a second son, one-and-a-half-year-old Igor.

---