4338.207 · July 26, 2018 AD
The Only Son
A winter morning off should mean warmth, privacy, and nowhere to be. Instead, Kain's intimate plans with Brianne collide catastrophically with his mother's timing—and Louise's belief that two knocks constitutes fair warning. The mortification might be survivable if it weren't for what follows: Brianne's quiet accusation that he always puts his mother first, and the worried request that proves her right. By nine o'clock, Kain is driving toward Berriedale, wondering when his life stopped belonging to him.
There's something about a winter morning when you've got nowhere to be. The cold outside, the warmth inside, and the woman you love still sleep-soft beside you. Kain has plans for this morning—quiet plans, private plans, the kind that don't require leaving bed.
His mother has other ideas.
Two knocks. No pause. The door opens on a scene that will haunt everyone involved. Louise's hand flies to her eyes. Brianne screams. And Kain, caught in a position no son should have to explain, discovers that mortification has physical weight.
The mood doesn't survive. Neither does Brianne's patience. You always do this, she says, her frustration finally surfacing. She calls, you go. It's not an accusation so much as an observation—the kind that cuts deeper because it's true.
Downstairs, the kitchen smells of cold toast and worry. Louise needs him to check on Uncle Jamie, who hasn't answered his phone in days. It's probably nothing. It's almost certainly nothing. But she'd feel better knowing for certain, and Kain has never been able to refuse her that.
By nine o'clock, he's in his car, driving toward Berriedale. Behind him, Brianne waits in a house that isn't theirs. Ahead, an uncle who's probably just lost his charger. And somewhere in between, the shape of a life that keeps proving his fiancée right.
