Other than holidays and begging from his mother, he'd vowed never to step foot in town again. Too many memories; not enough good to outweigh the bad. A few towns over, a few hours between his teenage years and maturity, and he had found happiness. He'd gotten accepted into a small college, and had decided to start fresh. Stiles was a frequent face on Skype, and he made it a habit to text Allison before he went to bed. Writing Lydia seemed fitting, even when he didn't get any mail in return.
The life that had destroyed him was left in the dust,
with hopes of a brighter future. And that's exactly what he found.
Contact seemed to stop after he met her. He hadn't expected to fall so hard, so quick but there was no resisting everything that she was.
Stiles was the best man at his wedding. His father actually attended, sitting in the front with a measurable amount of inches between his teary-eyed mother and the sheriff of his hometown. She was stunning. Porcelain skin glowing underneath pale lace. She was the one thing that grounded him in a place without roots. His friends lined the aisle in which she walked, and he couldn't help but notice a certain head of dark hair he hadn't seen for at least three years.
He hadn't expected her to come, but the sentiment
itself brightened his gleaming smile.
A year after their wedding was when she had been diagnosed. It ran in her family, and he should have expected it. Cancer was a force he hadn't reckoned with. But she knew how to fight.
And with remission came joy, hope, excitement.
And with excitement came a pregnancy, despite the risk.
They took all of the precautions, did everything right. Stella came a day before her due date, everything was perfect. Brown eyes, dark hair. Skin the same glowing porcelain as her mother's. She had her mother's smile. Her mother's laugh. Laughter that filled his house for four years.
She relapsed the summer before Stella's fourth birthday. It took a year before her body stopped fighting. Stella couldn't tell you what happened, but Scott knew every detail. He'd never imagined how it felt to bury the one you'd given your life to. He'd never wanted to come up with a childish excuse to tell his daughter why her mother wasn't coming home from the hospital this time. Why she needed to focus on pre-school, not the lack of laughter at the end of the night. One less kiss before going to bed.
The decision wasn't forced; he needed to go home. Melissa had welcomed him with open arms. Stiles helped him find an apartment in the same building as his own, taking up residence on the couch every so often when Scott wasn't willing to spend the night alone. Stella's smile wasn't as bright as it once had been; she wasn't as glowing as he'd once remembered. It was no doubt due to the lack of his own.
It took months to be able to leave the house without worry, without a dragging weight. Stella's fifth birthday was only a week away. He'd put an offer on a house. She was starting kindergarten in August. Things were moving, things were happening.
Stella had asked with the big brown eyes he'd used on his own mother many times if he would make the cake for her party. She was too young to realize that the only thing he made well was spaghetti. Boxed recipes could have been the story of their life. Her mother had always done it; Scott was the next best thing. And while he hated facing the grocery store with her, he couldn't say no to her enthusiasm.
"Daddy, it's this way, I know it. Nana takes me all t'time."
Her hand was persistently tugging on his own, urging him
to weave throughout the many bodies shopping during rush hour.
He uttered apologies on her behalf for those he bumped into,
her own voice echoing his politely. It wasn't until she let go
and began to run towards the frosting at the end of the baking aisle,
crashing directly into a woman walking the opposite,
did his patience begin to run thin. He rushed forward
and took her small hand into his own, sighing softly once she was by his side.
"Baby, you can't run off, okay?
I'm really sorry, she's just . . .
Allison?"
