Worse? I was barely able to shift back into my human skin as it was. How could things get worse?
“You’re right, Johanna,” my father said.
“Good.” I heard her patting him—his chest or his leg, probably. That was what she usually did. “Do you want me to stay here?”
“No. This will be difficult enough for him without his mother in the room.”
What were they talking about?
“I agree.” She kissed him. “I’m going up to bed. Good night.”
I heard my mother’s footsteps approaching and quickly turned around, ready to dash to my bedroom.
“Samuel,” my father called out. “Come on in here.”
I froze in place. He couldn’t know I was there. There was no way. I’d been quiet, and in my own home, my scent was everywhere, so my presence couldn’t be distinguished that way.
“Samuel,” he said again.
Before I could decide what to do, my mother stepped out of the kitchen.
“He’s waiting.” She smiled at me. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
I watched her as she walked away, and then I reminded myself that I was a strong man and cowering in the dark was unbecoming. Of course, I’d been doing that very thing, and eavesdropping to boot, but it hadn’t been intentional. I’d come downstairs to get water and—
“Samuel!”
I hurried into the kitchen.
“Have a seat.” My father pointed at the chairs around the small table but didn’t take one for himself. Instead he paced. “There’s no easy way to ask this, so I’m going to go ahead and just ask it.”
Something about his tone made me realize sitting down would be a good idea, so I did.
“Have you tied yet?”
The question didn’t make sense. Or my brain froze.
“Samuel?” He pulled out a chair and sat down across from me. “Have you ever tied with anyone?”
Understanding what he was asking, I lowered my gaze and felt my cheeks heat.
“There’s no shame in it, son. Like I’ve told you before, sex is natural. It’s part of who you are.”
Yes, he had told me that on more than one occasion. But I’d been younger then, and once puberty was over, I thought we were done with those horrible conversations.
When I didn’t answer, he sighed in frustration. “Eddie and Jen are still in their teens, and you see how freely they discuss sex. Son, you’re twenty.”
I remembered my brother and sister being sat down for the same lesson when they’d each been about twelve, but neither of them had looked as uncomfortable as I had been during the talk. Now at thirteen and fourteen, they were demonstrative with their affections and had no trouble talking about the lessons they’d been taught.
“Samuel?” My father sighed. “I’ve known this is a difficult subject for you, so I haven’t pushed it. That was wrong of me and I’m sorry. I failed you.”
I snapped my gaze up, shocked that he thought he’d done something wrong. “No, I—”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “It’s my fault. I realize you’re… different about some things, including touching or talking about touching, but Samuel, you need to listen to me now.”
He looked and sounded serious, so I forced myself to meet his gaze.
“When shifters reach adulthood, we need to tie so we can hold on to both parts of ourselves.”
