Page 30 of Odin
Well, that was the idea.
I spent the rest of the time packing my things and moving them from Preston’s house, cancelling anything we had jointly signed up for, including bank accounts, insurance, registrations, bills, and all the other legal stuff.
I found my mom an apartment, gave her a chunk of cash to pay for the first few months’ rent, and advised her that she should probably look for work. I wasn’t mean when I told her that I wasn’t going to be able to provide for her any longer. I was just being honest. I need to move on. I want to feel good about living my own life, and I couldn’t do that if I was constantly mopping up messes.
I was so busy, that I didn’t even realize my period was late until I went to my pack of birth control pills and realized that I’d taken the whole placebo week and there was nothing. I tried putting it down to stress, because what could be more stressful than finding your fiancé balls deep in your mom? But after another week of no period I had a horrible thought that there might be another reason.
I bought a pregnancy test. I shouldn’t have been shocked when it came back positive, but I was. All my plans for the future changed overnight. I knew I had options, but the instant I saw the result I also knew I wanted my baby. Then followed a few days of trying to envision what a future as a mother would look like. After a few days of grappling with the idea of having achild, I knew what the years ahead of me could hold.
A heart full to overflowing. Delaying going back to school for a few years. Finding a job and a small place. Hart.
AndOdin.
While I was under no illusion that we had a future, he deserved to be a part of this child’s life. A choice that had been taken from him with Preston.
The last thing I wanted to do was tell him over the phone. I did text him, telling him that I’d sorted through the things I needed to in LA, that I couldn’t get into school, and that I was seriously considering taking him up on his offer to help me find a place in Hart. I could tell that he was at least somewhat baffled when he texted back, but he did promise me that he’d help me find a place there.
I texted him back, telling him that I longed to have good people in my life who asked nothing in return for their kindness. After years of charging through life, learning nothing at all about myself, I wanted to slow down. Hart seemed like a good place to heal. I asked him if he could meet me, and he told me to name the place and time, and he’d be there.
It was such a professional response, but probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me because I know how much he meant it. If I’d picked a mountain top near Seattle and told him to backpack his way up to the summit so we could have a conversation, I know that he would have done whatever it took to make it to that very spot.
I obviously didnotpick a mountain. I thought about going to the clubhouse, but I wanted this conversation to be private. Not that it couldn’t be there, in Odin’s room, but I just had a feeling that it wasn’t therightplace.
I found this park and thought it would be a good place. It’s ringed with trees, all their leaves burnished to gold and orange—if there ever was a place to receive life changing news, then this was it. The air is cooler than it was a month ago, butnot cold. I’ll always be a Cali girl at heart, and shudder to think of winter, even though it’s supposed to be mild here.
Other than the lonely ice cream cart on the far right corner of the sidewalk bordering the park, the occasional person walking past, and a tall statue in the middle with a pretty flowerbed, the park has been almost entirely deserted. I guess that’s not unexpected for an out of the way place, on a Tuesday morning in mid-September. People work. Kids go to school. They’re all living their lives in other places.
I didn’t want to interrupt Odin’s workday, but didn’t want to risk the park getting busy over lunch. I asked him if ten was okay. He told me that it was perfect.
I’ve been sitting on this wooden bench since nine, a cold peppermint tea clutched in my hand, my leather bag resting on the bench by my left hip, my stomach full of churning nerves, my skin clammy with sweat that the soft breeze hasn’t cooled.
Exactly fifteen minutes before ten, the low growl of a bike in the distance splits the silence. The growl turns into thunder that rumbles through the park, not from the sky, but up through the ground. My knee starts to twitch. I thrust my hands on top of it, my fingers interlaced into a fist to keep my hands from trembling and jumping around just as badly as my leg. As soon as I still one, the other starts.
It doesn’t stop when the sound reaches its peak and cuts off. It only gets worse. My heart leaps into my throat, beating so hard that trying to breathe through it is uncomfortable.
It should make me even more nervous to recognize the tall figure stalking down the sidewalk with those long, powerful strides, like my time for confession has come, butinstead, it only eases my nerves and infuses a sense of peace deep down.
The black hoodie with the automotive logo on the front and those worn in, stained jeans are a uniform in their own right, and I can’t imagine that he’d look better in a tux. I’ve had about a lifetime’s worth of enough when it comes to suits and expensive things compensating for a host of insecurities.
He looks just the way I remember. Dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, silver flashing at the temples. It’s cloudy out, but Odin seems to be bathed in sunlight, his dark eye dappled with golden light as soon as he turns his head and sees me.
His face breaks into an easy smile that he can’t hold back. Maybe he doesn’t even try to, and that thought is immediately comforting. It stirs warmth in my belly that pools like hot tea on a cold day, banishing the chill of doubt.
It’s refreshing to meet a man secure enough in himself that he’s okay with giving away his emotions.
What he confessed to me about being lonely has haunted me ever since our time in the woods. I hate that he’s felt that way, probably for a long time. I hate that the years have been empty for him, that they haven’t given him a partner. Maybe he doesn’t need someone to defend him. He has his club brothers, but everyone deserves someone special who they can trust and confide in, who will champion them through the hardest, darkest times, who will offer comfort, laughter, a source of joy inserted straight into the darkest of times.
I’m sorry for his pain, and for my own as well, but if none of it existed, then we wouldn’t be here now.
I find myself smiling back and raising my hand in a little wave. My legs still feel wobbly, and before I can try to make myself stand, Odin’shere. He drops down onto the bench beside me, still smiling that easy smile that lights up his rugged features and reveals some of the tender sweetness I know lies below the surface.
“Willow,” he breathes, my name like a prayer, but his grin only widens, crinkling the skin all the way around the corner of his eye, and all along the edges of the black patch on the other as well. “You look radiant.”
I know that’s not true. I haven’t been getting as much sleep as I could, trying to cram everything into a very short amount of time. There were nights of worry, when I stared at the ceiling, trying to envision what my life would look like. I haven’t been nauseous, but I haven’t been eating as much as I should either. The dark roots of my hair have grown out, and the blonde looks dull. I sold a bunch of my designer clothes, shoes, and bags before I left LA, keeping only my favorite things. Putting on a face of makeup, doing my hair, and picking out something fancy to wear felt incredibly pretentious. I came as I was after a four hour drive this morning, with minimal makeup, a comfy black knit cardigan, black leggings, and flats.
My face heats up, and I toy with the hem of the cardigan just to give my hands something to do. “Thank you. You look wonderful too.” He does. As strong and healthy, tanned, and capable as ever. I love that he looks equally embarrassed, turning his stained palms up and clenching his hands together.
Maybe it’s crazy that this is happening, but crazy or not, I’m glad it’s with him. I still don’t believe in signs from the universe, but it feels like I was meant to come back here, meant to be in Odin’s life in some way. I never had so much as apregnancy scare before, and now I’m here to tell him he’s going to be a father.
