Page 44 of Grave Beginnings

She rounded the kitchen island and opened a package of turkey brats she’d brought with the mac and cheese. She then dug out a pan, adding water and the brats. It was a midwestern comfort meal I’d introduced her to almost three years ago. I dug my last package of frozen broccoli out of the freezer and put it in to steam.

“Little brother?”

“He’s a teen, and shifter variant.”

“Wow. Both of you are variant.”

I sighed. Yeah, that was strange. The virus rarely appearedamong family lines. Maybe that was what Xavier meant by Ivan and I being hybrids.

“So, are the SED guys hot?”

I snorted. She had no idea. And Angel, holy fuck. I’d never really been into the tattooed bad boy vibe, but I could imagine myself tracing his ink as I explored that finely muscled body of his. Then there was Xavier and his buddies. They were the type of men women drooled over; some men too, I had to admit. Out of the bunch, I’d pick Angel any day. His energy soothed me, and his regular-guy-though-on-the-far-end-of-the-super-hot-scale vibe really fit me better than whatever preternatural heartthrobs the other three were.

The door to the bathroom opened and Ivan stepped out in a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. His hair was a mess and there were bags around his eyes as if he hadn’t slept. A massive bruise spread across the left side of his face. I gasped. “Did dad do that?”

He flinched.

“Sorry,” I said, hating that I’d pointed it out. “Ivan, this is my friend Nikki. Nikki, this is my brother, Ivan.”

Nikki gave him a wide smile. “Nice to meet you, Ivan. Let me know if you need me for anything. Both of you. I’ll let you eat dinner and relax.”

“You can stay and eat dinner with us if you want?” I felt bad making food she’d brought but not sharing.

“My sisters were over earlier. They brought food from home,” Nikki said.

“Please don’t tell me. I’ll drool.”

She grinned. “I have a freezer full of sausage that I’ll be sharing.”

I put my hand on my heart. “Best friend ever.” I let her out and locked the door behind her. Ivan made his way to the stove and stirred the pasta.

“Is this okay?” I asked him as I grabbed the broccoli out of the microwave to chop it up and add to the mac and cheese.

His gaze roamed over the meal. “Grandma used to make this when I was little.”

I couldn’t help my smile. Would he freak out if I told him I saw her ghost? I swallowed the comment. “Yeah, it’s one of Grandpa’s favorites. I make it for him all the time. It’s a little ordinary…”

“No. It’s great,” Ivan said. “Shifter variants need a lot of protein.”

“The brats are turkey cheddar. And the mac and cheese is made from chickpeas. High protein and fiber. I’ve adjusted the recipes a little as I make them for Grandpa all the time. He’s supposed to have lower fat and sodium, but it all tastes good, I promise.”

“Sounds good,” Ivan said. “I, uh… don’t like a lot of red meat, anyway.”

Was that unusual for a shifter? I didn’t want to ask and make him uncomfortable. “I’ll make up the couch as soon as we’re done with dinner. You’re probably exhausted. Can you give me a list of things you might need? I don’t know if those guys packed everything.” I really hoped he hadn’t left anything important behind at our parent’s house. When I’d been cast out, my dad had thrown all my stuff in a bonfire out back. As if destroying everything I’d ever touched could somehow cleanse the fact that I existed from their lives.

“I think I have everything,” Ivan said, sitting down on the couch. “My phone isn’t working.” Peanut Butter immediately launched into his lap.

“He likes you,” I said as I stirred the broccoli into our mac and cheese and cut up the brats. “I’ll get you a new phone tomorrow, if that’s okay.” Neither of us pointed out that our parents had likely cut his service the moment he’d left the house.

Ivan petted PB without comment, his eyelids drooping. Thepoor kid looked exhausted. I filled up a plate for him and walked it over.

“Eat before you pass out, please.”

He took the plate and I returned to the kitchen. Ivan got up and sat at the small two-seater table. I joined him, passing over a glass of ice water. We ate in silence, which was only slightly awkward as I had questions, and felt like he did too, but I thought we both needed a break from difficult memories. He cleared his plate pretty fast, and I got up to refill it. He blinked at me, as though not used to getting more food. I tried to ignore how painfully thin he was. Had they kept food from him, or was it because his variance ate through everything?

As he ate, I made up the couch, adding pillows and blankets. Ivan ate every bite, clearing his plate without protest, nodding off a few times to be jolted awake by Peanut Butter begging for bits of cheese.

“Get some sleep,” I told Ivan, as I finished cleaning up the dishes. “I’ll leave my door open in case you need me.”