The Morgan Lore - 12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

La Stanchezza – The Fatigue

Milan did not know when the symptoms of his illness started. He was too young, too small to understand the gravity of the situation as his condition progressed. He did remember the look in his parents’ eyes. The stark fear in Ilaria’s gaze when he burned too hot, and the frustration in Kiyo’s eyes when no medicine would work on him. Week to week, month to month, year to year, he got used to the fight.

The illness became part of him, and now, at almost seventeen, he didn’t remember what it was like to be other, to be normal as the others. His illness and managing it was normal to him.

He understood the limitations his body placed on him, embraced them enough to manage them…to a point. The one thing that still frustrated him was the fatigue. La stanchezza, his constant companion. It was no fun feeling too tired to play, too tired to go out walking, and visit a coffee shop with his friends. This constant fatigue left him wary of making friends. After all, no one wanted a friend who could not go out to play.

Humans remained social creatures, spending time together, gathering experiences, Milan sighed. Of course, he too wanted to gain these experiences, he was human after all, but what could he do when his body failed him.

Why even think of this now?

This afternoon when he fell asleep in the nurse’s office, he had not expected Rory Morgan to wait. It surprised him to wake up and find Rory still sitting at the edge of his bed, waiting. A nice kind of surprise, the type that made him think Rory could make a great friend. He dared not want more. It would be insane to want more, though seeing Rory made him wish.

Milan smiled now thinking of it.

God, what would it be like dating Rory Morgan? He could only imagine it.

Milan wrote in answers on his calculus homework. Day one, and the teacher was not letting him off. He bit his lip as he answered questions on fundamental theorems. His brain focusing on the math problem, before skating back to Rory. Rory, who had led him to the front doors, and waited with him as Ilaria pulled up to pick him up. His lips curved into another smile.

“Cucciolo, what makes you smile so hard? Your math homework must be exciting. Did the teacher ask you simple questions?” Marie asked, as she brought him a glass of fresh orange juice.

She made sure he drank it by the gallon. Milan took the glass she offered and drank half the contents.

“I don’t mind doing math. I just don’t understand why they have me doing gym.”

“Your Mamma will make sure you’re not in gym,” Marie said, shaking her head. “The thought of you in a locker room shower is enough to make me shudder.”

Milan chuckled when Marie leaned on the island table.

“Or maybe the smile is because of the person coming over. I heard you talking to Mamma. Is it someone I know?”

“Rory Morgan.”

“Ah,” Marie gave him a knowing smile. “He is the one who brought the pie.”

“Yes, and stop giving me that look.”

“What look?”

“Like you’re brewing a plot,” Milan said, finishing his homework.

He slipped the assignment sheet between his textbook and closed it. He sat back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head, letting out a small groan as his muscles stretched.

“He seemed like a nice boy. Very respectful, even while he insisted,” Marie said, taking his calculus textbook and slipping it into his book bag. She hanged his book bag on his chair and smiled. “The pie he brought was good.”

“I didn’t have any,” Milan complained, remembering Marie saying that Rory had brought a pie.

“I did, and it was delicious,” Marie said, kissing her fingers, making him laugh. “To celebrate your successful day of school, I’ll treat you to dinner. Tell me, what you want to eat. I’ll make it for you?”

“Anything?”

“Anything, my cucciolo.”

Milan reached for her hand and held on.

“Please make crostata with raspberry jam.”

Marie laughed.

“What?”

“It’s always crostata. Why don’t you surprise me one of these days?”

“I’m loyal to the taste of your crostata.”

“So you are.” Marie squeezed his fingers and straightened up. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl covered with cling film. “I have a sixth sense when it comes to you.”

Milan grinned when he saw the chilled dough. He clapped and blew Marie a kiss.

“This is worthy of my wife.”

Marie laughed then and took the dough to a board on the counter facing the windows where she preferred to work.

“Has my daughter in-law promised you something good?” Ilaria asked, coming into the kitchen.

She held an ear thermometer and a notebook, and chose the chair beside Milan. She rubbed his earlobe, then pressed the tip of the thermometer into Milan’s ear, Milan held still for her, only moving when it beeped.

“How am I doing?” Milan asked, glancing at his mother, his gaze wary.

“Good.” Ilaria nodded, writing down his temperature in the notebook she kept with the help of his dad. “Papa’s medicine is working well. You’re not too tired are you?”

The moment he said yes, she would close the doors to visitors, and he really wanted Rory to visit.

Milan stared into his orange juice.

“I slept in school. I feel great now.” Milan sipped his juice, and gave Ilaria a small smile. “It feels good to be moving around like this, Mamma. Don’t make me go up to bed.”

Ilaria narrowed her gaze at him. She searched for signs that he was hiding pain, or fatigue. She knew him well, it was hard to hide anything from her.

“Mamma is only worried for you. Rory is visiting you a second day. He seems like a good boy, but he doesn’t understand your condition, Milan. I’m just wary.”

“You wouldn’t do this if it was Ayu’s friends coming over. You never ask them why they are visiting him,” Milan pointed out.

“Si, you’re right but, Ayu is not you,” Ilaria said, pushing the thermometer away, along with the notebook. She leaned her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her palm to look at him. “Don’t be so hard on me. I just like to worry about you, Cucciolo.”

“Because I don’t make friends easily?”

“No, because you’re my bambino,” Ilaria answered.

“Please don’t say that when he comes over,” Milan begged.

Ilaria gaped, her eyes wide with drama.

“I’m always in my best behavior.”

“Right,” Milan shook his head, draining his glass of juice. He glanced at Marie. “Do you think Rory will like crostata? You’ll make extra, right Marie?”

“Sure,” Marie nodded, already spreading the dough.

Ilaria reached out to brush hair out of Milan’s eyes.

“I can’t believe my baby is now worrying about another boy. Why are you growing up so fast?”

“Mamma!”

The doorbell rang and Milan slid off his chair, determined to receive Rory this time.

“Make sure he passes through the sanitizing room,” Ilaria warned as he dashed off to the front door.

Milan wished he could ignore her warning. Opening the front door, he smiled wide when he saw Rory standing on his doorstep, still in his clothes from earlier. No coat in sight despite the cold weather. How he wished he could try out something like that.

“Hi.”

“Hey. Come in,” Milan waved Rory in, wanting to close the door. “Um, I know this is weird, but—”

“Marie explained last time,” Rory said, pointing to the small room on Milan’s right. “I’ll wash my hands and change into house slippers, to keep the house relatively sanitized.”

Milan blushed as he watched Rory enter the little room built for this. Rory was the easiest guest he had ever invited. Others didn’t understand this procedure at all. He hadn’t dared invite his schoolmates in Turin. He had preferred to meet them outside, when he could, which wasn’t often.

“You don’t have to wear a mask,” Milan said, when Rory removed his boots and slipped his feet into a pair of the house slippers that Marie kept in abundance and in pristine condition.

“I wouldn’t have minded it,” Rory answered as Milan opened the glass door leading into the living room.

“Let’s go to the kitchen first. Mamma is home, and Marie is about to start baking,” Milan said, already leading the way.

Rory followed without question and Milan took in a deep breath when they entered the kitchen. His gaze on his mother who locked eyes on Rory, her attitude charged.

“Rory, come sit next to me,” Ilaria said, patting the chair Milan had vacated. “Milan, you get him a glass of juice.”

Milan gave his mother a warning glance as he detoured to the fridge.

“Wow, you’re tall,” Ilaria marveled when Rory reached her and she was looking up at him.

“I get it from my Dad.” Rory answered, as he sat down, and accepted the glass of orange juice Milan brought him.

“Your dad, the sheriff, if I remember correctly,” Ilaria said, shifting in her chair so that she faced Rory.

“Yes.”

“I remember him. He has a great laugh,” Ilaria nodded. “Now, I like to get straight into the problem. I know my son might not tell you he is sick. Milan wishes for everyone to treat him as if he is fine, but he is not. He likes to hide his illness, and it places him at a disadvantage, which upsets me. I don’t want to see him hurt, you see.”

Milan moved away from Ilaria and Rory and went to stand next to Marie. He wished he could stuff a piece of orange into his mother’s mouth to stop her, but it was useless. He was used to this drill. In some ways, it helped him choose real friends, because only those who could withstand Ilaria’s welcome-to-the-Takeda-house tirade were worth keeping.

“I don’t want to see Milan hurt either,” Rory said, making Milan turn to look at him.

There was no judgment in Rory’s blue eyes when their gazes met. No sense of shock or annoyance. Only quiet acceptance, and maybe assurance. Rory lifted his brow at him, and Milan looked away fast.

“That’s good to know,” Ilaria nodded, a tad impressed. By now, if Rory would have wanted to leave he would already have made an excuse to get out. “I have some rules to remember. One is: don’t push Milan to go outside, the weather is harsh for him. Two: he gets tired, let him rest. Three: if you hear one complaint of pain or discomfort, you must promise to tell me. If you’re fine with these rules, you are welcome to my home, Rory Morgan.”

Rory smiled at Ilaria.

“I am fine with your rules, and you have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you,” Ilaria returned his smile, and nodded to Marie. “She’s Marie. She takes care of all of us. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask her.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rory said, when Marie turned to wave at him.

“I loved the pie you brought. You wouldn’t happen to have the recipe, would you?” Marie asked.

Milan bit back a laugh when Rory almost choked on his juice.

“I—I can find it,” Rory said, when he recovered.

Marie chuckled and returned to her work.

“Alright. You can go upstairs. Milan said you’re helping him with homework,” Ilaria said, though her tone sounded skeptic. Milan refused to elaborate, glad Rory had passed Ilaria’s first test. “You’ll have dinner with us, Rory. Marie is making crostata for dessert. Milan’s favorite, you’ll love it.”

Milan pushed off the counter then, went to Rory, took his hand and rushed him out of the kitchen before his mother decided to ask him about his ancestors. He led Rory upstairs to the third floor, to his room. He let go of Rory’s hand once they were inside, and only because he felt as though he was being too forward.

Milan leaned on the open door, and gave a soft sigh of relief. He looked up to find Rory watching him, amused.

“What?”

“Your mom is cool.”

“She is?” Milan pushed off the door and went to sit on the edge of his bed. “I’m sorry about her. She can be a bit overwhelming. You’re lucky she didn’t ask about your flu history.”

“She’s just worried,” Rory said, looking around his room.

Milan shifted on the edge of his bed until he could fold his legs under him. His gaze remained on Rory who moved around his space, his expression one of avid interest.

“You have a lot of art books,” Rory said, stopping at the floor-length bookshelf by Milan’s desk. “What is One Piece?”

“Manga,” Milan said. “Japanese comics. You can read it if you want. The first volume is at the end of the shelf.”

Rory pulled it out, flipping through the pages, though he didn’t read them. He kept the book in his hand, as he browsed the shelves.

Milan watched him.

He rarely had people who weren’t family in his space. Sometimes he preferred not having people in here, but Rory felt okay. His presence wasn’t invasive. When Rory touched his books, his fingers moved over the spines in a caress. At Milan’s desk, Rory took in the wealth of drawing pencils, the number of drawing pads piled in the corner. Rory smiled when he touched the wooden skeleton Milan used to learn how to draw the human body. Rory was interested, but he didn’t move things out of place, which was a relief.

Milan thought of lunch period earlier, and all the questions Rory asked him. He braced his hands behind him, his curiosity about Rory burning.

“What is your hobby?” Milan asked, when Rory sat on the chair at his desk, swiveling it so that he faced Milan.

“I like building things,” Rory answered. “I helped my family extend our house these past two months. Of course I had help from my uncle, but it was great seeing that project work out.”

“Do you live close by?” Milan asked.

He didn’t know Portento really, except for the main town where the grocery store was, and now his school. He imagined it would be nice to visit Rory’s house. Would Rory’s mom ask him questions too?

“I live deeper in the forest than you do,” Rory said, giving a small shrug. “One of these days, when the time is right, you can visit.”

“I’d love that,” Milan answered, pleased by the invitation. “Do you have a brother or sister? My big brother is not home yet. You can meet him next time you’re here if he doesn’t come on time. His name is Ayu. He goes to Ashland U.”

Rory smiled.

“I have Christopher. He’s a big brother to me in every sense, no sisters.”

“Why do you say ‘in every sense’?” Milan asked, there was a wistful thread in Rory’s voice.

“Um.”

Rory broke off, staring at the book he held, a frown gracing his smooth forehead. Rory bit his lip for a second, and Milan wondered if he had asked a sensitive question.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Milan said.

Rory looked up at him for a moment, then shook his head, his gaze dropping to the One Piece manga he held.

Milan watched him open the cover to the first page, though it didn’t seem as though Rory was reading it.

“My dad had a younger sister,” Rory said, after a moment of silence. “Her name was Leona. She mat—married first. She and her husband got a son, Christopher. They were really happy for a while.”

Milan shifted, resting his elbows on his knees. He understood the sad note in Rory’s voice, the discernible touch of grief. He had heard it in countless parents in the hospital when their kids didn’t make it, or were going through a rougher time than him.

“What happened to your Aunt Leona?” Milan asked, his tone soft, needing to know.

Rory closed his eyes, hiding his pain away from Milan.

“There was a terrible accident when I was ten years old. Chris lost both his parents and I lost my mom. My dad took in Chris and he has been my big brother since.”

Milan sat in silence, shaken. He didn’t think this was a good question to ask on their first day of friendship. Rory’s mom was gone. Milan couldn’t imagine what life would be like without his mother. He relied on her too heavily.

“I’m sorry about your mom, Rory.”

Rory took in a deep breath and looked up at him.

“It’s gotten easier,” Rory said, swallowing hard. His gaze bright. “I don’t talk about her very much, but I think she would have loved to meet you.”

Milan smiled.

“Really?”

“Yes, I’m sure of it.”

Rory placed the One Piece book on Milan’s desk, and got up, this time walking to the wall that connected Milan’s room to the bathroom. Rory stopped before a huge picture mounted on the wall.

“Where is this?”

“Duomo di Milano,” Milan said, unable to hide his pride in the beautiful picture. “Milan Cathedral. It is where Mamma and Papa met. It is also how I ended up with the name Milan.”

“It looks epic,” Rory said, studying the picture.

“Even more so when you visit,” Milan said, getting off the bed to go stand next to Rory. “I was six when Mamma took me to see it for the first time. Last year when I went back and saw it again, I knew I wanted to be an architect. Can you believe it is six hundred years old and still going? I bet the original architect would be in shock if he saw it now.”

“I bet. That’s a really long time for a building to stand,” Rory agreed. “So your parents named you after a city?”

“I told them I was lucky they didn’t meet in Czechoslovakia.”

Rory looked at him, with a lifted brow.

Milan chuckled.

“Then, I would have to live with, ‘Hey Czech, check this out.’”

Rory stared at him, and when he didn’t even crack a smile, Milan sighed.

“Not funny?”

Rory chuckled then, shaking his head, no.

Milan pushed his hands into his pockets.

“It’s a little funny.”

Rory laughed then.

“You’re cute when you pout though,” Rory said, when Milan wrinkled his nose at him.

Rory turned away from the photograph, and moved to sit on the edge of Milan’s bed.

“You have a great view.”

“I got lucky,” Milan said, moving to the chair at his desk. He sank into it, swiveling from side to side. “I just realized that we’re still talking about me. You have a habit of turning the questions around to me. Do you know that?”

“You’re more interesting,” Rory said, folding his legs as he settled on the bed.

Milan shook his head at that answer.

“I think it’s…how you say...evasione,” Milan said.

“Evasion?”

“Si, that’s right,” Milan nodded. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess everyone around me knows about me. I’ve never had to explain my life to anyone.”

“That’s the opposite for me. Everywhere I go, I’m the new one. Fine then, if you don’t tell me about you, tell me about Jack.”

“What about Jack?”

“Anything,” Milan picked up the One Piece manga Rory had left on his desk and flipped through it. He liked Jack’s sweet nature. “He was very kind to me today. I want to be friends with him. Do you think he will agree?”

A frown appeared on Rory’s face, passing after a second. “I’m sure he will.”

“It will be nice if he does, although I don’t know if he will mind coming over to my house to visit. Not many people can handle Mamma’s rules. They only increase as you get to know her. Do you think he would mind it?”

“Can we stop talking about Jack?” Rory asked then. “You can ask me anything. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Rory leaned back, using his hands to keep his balance. “Hit me.”

Milan blinked, staring at Rory’s challenging gaze. It was as if Rory was inviting him to do the best he could. A laugh escaped then and he shook his head.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Milan said, getting up from his chair, he returned his manga to the shelf. “Since we can’t go outside, do you want to play videogames with me? Do you play those?”

“Sure, what you got?”

Milan went to turn on his PlayStation set on a short table under the television screen. Taking one of the four controllers, he held it out to Rory, and started Assassin’s Creed: Unity.

Rory sank into the huge cushions on the floor next to Milan. Milan felt him relax as they started playing. They stayed at it for the next hour until the connecting door opened to reveal Ayu.

***

Rory sat next to Milan, his senses flooded with the scent of mandarin oranges, his heart beating louder than possible. Every nerve on edge as the urge to pull Milan into his arms filled him until he thought he might go insane. Yet, he could not bring himself to get up and walk out of Milan’s bedroom. He had spent days on the tree branches outside waiting, wishing, praying for this chance, now that he was inside, how could he even think of walking away.

Milan completed a jump on the game, and gave a triumphant laugh. His mate looked happy and relaxed. There was no mask around his neck. His gloves were off now that he was in his own space. Dressed down in a light grey sweater, sweatpants and socks, Milan looked good enough to eat.

Goddess, he might pass for the big bad wolf at this rate.

Milan’s shoulder brushed Rory’s as he shifted to get comfortable on his cushion. Rory’s grip on his game consul tightened and he leaned closer wanting to press a kiss on Milan’s cheek.

The bathroom door opened and he looked up to find Milan’s big brother standing there.

“Hey, Cucciolo,” Ayu greeted, as he came in, his gaze narrowed on Rory. “Heard you had a friend over.”

“Yeah, this is Rory,” Milan said, pouting when Ayu came over and took over Milan’s controller.

In a second, Ayu settled himself between Rory and Milan, his actions seeming innocent.

“Rory, this is my big brother, Ayu.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rory said, giving Ayu space.

He wasn’t much for video games, so he handed his controller to Milan, who flashed him a grateful grin. Rory fell a little more in love with that grin.

“So, you’re in the same class with Milan?” Ayu asked.

“No. I’m in twelfth grade,” Rory said, smelling Ayu’s distrust in his tone.

He had never met another family so wary of people. From Kiyo, to Ilaria and now Ayu. The only one who had invited him into the house with open arms was Marie. And Milan, of course.

“I heard you came over yesterday,” Ayu said, finishing the game Milan started with a high score that sent him to the next level. Placing the game controller on the table, he turned to look at Rory. “We’re not big on visitors here.”

“So I’ve heard,” Rory answered.

“My brother—”

“Ayu,” Milan cut Ayu off. “How was your first day?”

“Uneventful, unlike yours,” Ayu stated, though he kept looking at Rory. “I’m not like my mother with rules.”

“Ayu.” Milan started to protest.

“Your brother has something to say,” Rory said, meeting Milan’s gaze. “Let him.”

Milan sighed and reached for the remote on the table with the PlayStation. He changed to television and tuned to NatGeo, ignoring them.

Ayu got up from the floor and urged Rory to follow. They sat on the edge of Milan’s bed, not having moved that far. Ayu clearly wanted Milan to hear this conversation.

“Rory, I’m going to come off as hard and rude, but I can’t help it. You see, we’ve had schoolmates come over after Milan’s first day, excited by the idea of a new student in their year. Wanting to know all about Milan, so they can go to school tomorrow and brag about knowing him. When they discover his condition, and how he must live, they turn into bullies overnight.”

“I’m not that kind of person,” Rory said, already knowing where this was going.

His gaze went to Milan who still sat on the floor. Milan’s gaze stayed fixed on the television, though his shoulders were tense. Rory’s heart ached at the thought of someone having dared made Milan feel less than, when he was so extraordinary to him.

“I’m not saying you are,” Ayu said. “I just need you to understand that Milan has thought he made friends before, and they betrayed him in the worst ways possible when they got to school the next day. If you’re that type of person, I’ll make it my personal goal to make your life a living hell. Do you understand?”

“Crystal,” Rory said, proud to know that Milan had such a protective brother.

Ayu narrowed his gaze at him. Rory kept eye contact, needing Ayu to trust him, enough at least to work on gaining more.

“You’re not freaking out, so that’s a good sign,” Ayu said with a sigh. “Milan, he seems hardy.”

“Mamma got to him first,” Milan said, bringing his knees up, he wrapped his arms around them and rested his chin on top. “Rory, if you want to bail from this bizarre house where everyone threatens you, now is the time. You don’t have to stay for dinner.”

Rory bit his lip at the note of sadness in Milan’s voice. He cleared his throat, and forced a smile.

“Your mom said there will be crostata. She said it’s good. I’d like to taste it,” Rory said.

Ayu smirked, and patted Rory’s shoulder.

“That’s the spirit,” Ayu said, with a short laugh as he got up. “Let’s go Milan. Dinner is ready.”

Milan got up from the floor, slipping his arm around Ayu’s waist when Ayu rested his on Milan’s shoulders.

Jealousy reared its ugly head, and Rory stopped, hands curling into fists. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath to keep calm. Not being able to touch Milan, and having to watch others touch him so freely was driving him crazy. He felt on edge all the time. Like he might explode with the amount of restraint he was keeping up.

This couldn’t go on.

“Rory?” Milan’s voice drifted into his brain and he let out a relieved sigh as the surge of annoyance washed away.

Rory forced his body to relax, opening his eyes to find Milan and Ayu looking at him.

“Got a cramp on my leg,” Rory said, rubbing his hand on his left thigh for show. “It happens.”

Ayu frowned. Milan shrugged.

“Better?” Milan asked, still holding on to Ayu.

“Yeah,” Rory growled the word out.

“Well, let’s go downstairs then before Mamma screams out our names,” Ayu said, leading Milan out.

Rory took in several gulps of air, flooding his senses with Milan’s scent, hoping to keep calm. He needed to find a better way to control his emotions.

Dinner was an experience. There was no other word for it. Marie’s cooking was heaven. Tonight, she served a stew of dried zucchini and potatoes in tomato sauce. There was a platter with citrus and rosemary roasted chicken, and a bowl full of vegetable salad. Ilaria made sure to fill a bowl of the vegetable salad for Milan who sat next to her on her right.

Rory ate like a man starved. It was easy too as Marie’s cooking was hard to ignore. He thought it nice that Marie joined them for dinner. She kept everyone laughing with stories of her kids’ adventures while growing up.

“I have a good one,” Marie said, when they were done eating. “It happened when I first started taking care of Ayu and Milan. In their home in Turin, there is a huge fig tree growing in the garden. On a warm day, in the afternoon, when you can’t avoid la stanchezza, we would sit out there and drink cold fresh orange juice, and lay on hammocks, like lazy bears.”

“How do you know bears are lazy?” Milan asked.

Rory smiled when Marie gave Milan a fish face making him laugh and continued her story.

“And then, one afternoon Ayu, Milan and their little neighbor Christina went crazy. They climbed the fig tree while I dozed and started playing a game they called, kuchu, kuchu train.”

“Kuchu, kuchu?” Rory asked, laughing.

“It doesn’t make sense, does it?” Marie asked, her eyes wide with drama. “Kuchu, kuchu train.”

Milan groaned beside Rory and shook his head. Ayu lifted his glass of juice to his lips and drank deep.

“I was dozing not paying any mind to their laughs and stories. Who knew these crazy children were pulling off leaves from branches and acting as though they were collecting train tickets? What’s more, Ayu convinced them the figs already growing on the tree were gold. So, they had to fill sacks and sacks for their make believe mining expedition.”

“They were not sacks, just bags,” Milan corrected, biting back a laugh.

“Needless to say, I’m happy dozing when Mamma comes home,” Marie continued. “She wanders to the garden looking for her children only to shower in fig tree leaves. Ayu jumps down from the tree, followed by Christina then Milan, each having dropped full sacks of figs on the ground.”

“The shock,” Ayu said, with a chuckle.

“The drama,” Milan replied, and they both laughed.

“It was not funny,” Ilaria said, turning to Rory. “Can you imagine bags full of figs? Some ripe, some not ready, filled to the top and three short midgets looking at me with pride. I was in shock.”

Milan laughed and turned away from his mother when she gave him a mock scowl.

“We were determined,” Ayu said, winking at Rory.

Rory turned to look at Milan, trying to imagine a younger version of Milan climbing up a tree in mischief.

“What did you do with the figs?” Rory asked, curious.

“She threatened us with a beating,” Ayu said, his tone serious.

The thought of having Milan beaten left Rory sick. Milan grabbed Rory’s arm, and shook his head, and Rory relaxed as he realized Ayu was joking.

“I’m kidding,” Ayu said, with a short laugh. “Although, Mamma was furious.”

“I told them to eat all the figs they harvested,” Ilaria said. “If they couldn’t they would have to find a way to return them to the tree.”

Marie laughed then, tears in her eyes.

“What?” Rory asked.

“The three midgets took it seriously and the next morning I found figs stapled to tree branches. Others attached with duct tape,” Ilaria said, sitting back. “Our home became the local tourist spot for a week as we worked to get the figs off.”

Rory burst into a laugh then, joining Marie. Milan blushed and shook his head, meeting his brother’s gaze as a smile curved his lips. Rory wished he had been there to see their adventure then. If only to share the memory with Milan.

“The look on their faces as the men worked to remove the figs from the tree,” Marie shook her head, wiping tears from her eyes. “I can’t forget Ayu complaining. ‘Mamma, we fixed it, why are they undoing the figs?’”

“We had fixed it,” Ayu insisted.

“The power of imagination,” Milan backed his brother.

“I bet you never wanted to eat figs after that,” Rory guessed.

“My stomach hurt for a week,” Ayu confessed. “It was about the same time Milan got so sick…we just thought it was because of eating green figs.”

Rory went still, waiting for the answer he wanted dearly. He hoped Ayu would break the silence that fell over the table.

Marie sighed, then got up, breaking the moment. She picked up the plates piled in a corner earlier and smiled at Rory.

“Well, enough of laughs. Time for dessert. Rory, you brought me a pie, so I treat you today. Yes?”

“I look forward to it,” Rory said, getting up to help with cleaning up the table.

He helped Marie bring back the crostata with raspberry jam, which she had divided into slices for everyone. Milan ate his piece with infectious relish. Rory filed away another favorite to his list as he watched Milan eat.

Rory looked up after a moment and caught Ilaria studying him. He gave her a small smile, which she returned, though her gaze remained speculative.

Milan, finished with his dessert, stretched his arms above his head, and gave a tired yawn. He dropped his arms with a happy sigh.

“That was really good, Marie,” Milan said, rubbing his stomach with a pleased smile.

“I’m happy to see you eat so well,” Marie said, taking the dessert plates. She went back to the kitchen followed by Ayu who carried the last of the dishes.

Milan bit back another yawn, and Rory glanced at the time on his phone. He was surprised to discover it was almost nine o’clock in the evening.

“I should go,” Rory said, getting up from the table. “Tomorrow is school.”

“It is,” Ilaria said, getting up too, and coming around to rub Milan’s shoulders when he followed Rory.

Rory headed to the front door, wishing he could get a moment with Milan but that seemed impossible with Ilaria beside her son.

“Thank you for dinner, Dr. Ilaria” Rory said, stopping at the glass doors. “It was wonderful.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Ilaria said, her arm now over Milan’s shoulders. “I hope to see you visit us again, Rory.”

Rory met Milan’s gaze and gave him a wink, happy to see color on Milan’s cheeks.

“I definitely will,” he promised, finally figuring out the wall the Takedas had against him. “I promise.”

Ilaria nodded, squeezing Milan’s shoulders as Rory opened the glass door.

“See you at school, Milan.”

“Yes, goodnight, Rory.”

“Goodnight.”

Rory left with a short wave and once he was outside in the cold night, he turned and stared at the closed front door.

Ilaria was afraid he would never come back to visit Milan. Ayu worried he would turn into a bully. If he gained their trust by proving his intentions, then there would be no problem getting closer to Milan.

Rory smiled, feeling lighter for the first time in days. He skipped down the stairs and hurried to his car, ready to work on gaining trust.

***

In the shadows of the forest surrounding the Takeda compound, a lone wolf watched the Portento pack heir climb into his red mustang. A carefree smile on that handsome face, a well-honed powerful body sliding into the car, nimble and fast. Rory Morgan looked too happy coming out of a house full of humans. The lone wolf took in a deep whiff, his gaze on the red mustang driving out of the compound.

The lone wolf wondered, which one among the souls in the house brought that carefree smile to the handsome pack heir.

****

Rory didn’t drive home after coming from the Takeda’s compound. Instead, he drove through winding roads in the complicated maze that was Portento, and cut into the forest, only coming to a stop when his car could go no farther. He walked the rest of the distance to a log cabin built in the middle of a small homestead.

Stepping up on the porch, he started to reach for the knocker only to stop when the door opened.

“The moon must be shining bright to have led you to my doorstep, Little Morgan. A Morgan at my door is a blessing. A Morgan at my door is a misfortune.”’

“That’s unkind to say, Grandma,” Rory said, to a woman he had called grandmother since his birth.

Asta Colden had lived too long. She knew everything about everything in Portento. He sometimes wondered how, but dared not ask. His mother had introduced him to her, told him to trust her always.

“Come inside, Little Morgan. I sense a shadow around you.”

Rory turned, his gaze scanning their surroundings. He sensed no malice or ill-will. He wondered why Asta would comment on a shadow, but he let it go to think on later. He had a more urgent matter to deal with.

“Little Morgan has a puzzle,” Asta said as she sank into her favorite rocking chair.

She was knitting. Again. He couldn’t remember her ever not knitting. The red scarf she knitted had long over grown its length. It filled every inch of her living room. The scarf graced the window panes, the back of a couch next to the window, down to the floor, around a couch leg, winding over a stool, another chair, on a table…and on and on, Rory wondered if Asta knew where the other end was.

“Are you going to puzzle my puzzle, or puzzle yours?” Asta asked.

“Please don’t riddle me,” Rory said, sitting on a small stool next to Asta’s rocking chair. He looked down at the floor and found he was stepping on a part of the endless scarf. He tried to move it to the side, but it seemed stuck to the carpet.

“Don’t mind that, dear,” Asta said. “What is troubling you?”

“I’ve found my mate,” Rory confessed, relief flooding him as the words came out of him in a rush. He didn’t have to worry about Asta betraying him. She had never told any of his secrets when he came to pour them out to her.

“A mate is a blessing,” Asta said, giving him a gentle smile as she continued to knit. “Why do you look so down?”

“He is not…”

Rory held Asta’s gaze when she looked at him, and he bit his lip when she stopped knitting and placed her knitting needles on the armrest. Her knarled hands cupped his jaw and she leaned in looking into his eyes. He stared into her green eyes, and wondered what she saw when she looked at him.

Then, Asta got up and disappeared down the only corridor in the house to a room at the end. Rory stared at his boots as he waited for her to come back.

Five minutes later, Asta returned with a small wooden box, which she shoved into his hands before sitting again.

Rory never questioned Asta. He opened the box, and stared at the wood bracelet inside with five leaves curved on the surface.

“What is this for?”

“Wear it first,” Asta challenged.

Rory lifted the wood bracelet out of its box and stared at the leaves curved on the surface.

“I’m not wearing it until you explain,” he insisted.

Asta gave an impatient sigh, then picked up her knitting needles.

“You’re here for a solution. I’m giving you one. We’re creatures with strong desires. Finding a mate is no small matter. Your body, your wolf is fighting for the chance, the ultimate need to mate, to mark your mate. You won’t be able to fight it for too long.”

Rory closed his eyes, already aware of this. If he could, he would have already marked Milan. Topher had it easier with Maryanne. Their mating took less than a week. He envied his beta.

“Focus,” Asta’s voice broke through his thoughts. “That bracelet is a gift from the woods.”

Asta was a huge believer of spirit magic. The trees were alive to her, and she respected that, so he did too.

“Wear it and each leaf will fall off as your mate gets closer to accepting you. It will help you manage the insane need to rip out throats. I bet you go nuts when anyone touches your mate.”

Rory stared at the bracelet in relief. Having spent the evening with Milan, he knew just what Asta described. While his urges were pressing, he wanted time to get to know his mate. Time for Milan to know him. Time for Milan to accept him as his.

“How long does it take?”

“How long does it take to fall in love?” Asta asked.

When he only stared at her, she blinked.

“I don’t know either,” Asta said, her knitting stopping. “I thought you would know the answer to that?”

“How?”

Asta sighed, her knitting resuming.

“Listen, Little Morgan. Wear the bracelet, it will help you manage the jealousy. It stays on even when you change into your wolf. Do try to run more often until you complete your mating ritual. The bracelet can only work if you’re working hard to make your life easier. Keeping your urges pent up will drive you crazy.”

Rory rubbed the surface of the bracelet, before he met Asta’s knowing gaze.

“Any consequences?” he asked, knowing he needed to ask.

Asta smiled at him, as a grandmother would at her favorite grandchild.

“I told you it was a gift. I was thinking of your mother before you walked in. Johanna always brought me fresh fruit from the Steel farm. I miss her, terribly.”

Rory wore the bracelet on his left wrist, and bowed his head in thanks.

Asta touched the top of his head, brushing his hair with her fingers.

“I’ll bring you a basket of fruits when I visit next.”

Asta nodded and he got up glancing at the wooden bracelet. His heart lifted in joy when the first leaf disappeared, leaving four.

Rory gave Asta a happy grin.

“Be blessed, Grandma Asta.”

“Beware of the shadow, Little Morgan,” Asta said as he headed to the front door.

“I will,” Rory said as he closed the door after him, his gaze scanning the woods, wondering what shadow this was that made Asta warn him twice.

***