Page 10 of The Wolves of Forest Grove
We didn’t talk much last night. I’d wanted to.
Watching Clay and Jared inhale entire large pizzas by themselves in the span of ten minutes only made my mind swirl with even more questions.
But with a full belly and the promise of a clean bed, Jared had washed all the sheets and blankets, because of course he had.
I was starting to think the guy had no flaws, I wandered upstairs and passed out fully clothed.
I bounded down the stairs, wearing yesterday’s jeans and a clean shirt and sweater from my pack.
I’d need to go to the storage unit today if I was going to avoid wearing the same outfit to school two days in a row.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so rested, even though my dreams weren’t exactly filled with gumdrops and unicorns.
While we ate, the prospect of sleeping in a house with two literal wolves had made me think I may not sleep at all, and agreeing to come back with Jared at all was a very very bad idea. But I’d been wrong.
Other than Clay shooting me daggers while he ate, it wasn’t all that bad.
And by the time I crawled into bed, I was too tired to care about much of anything.
I whispered to myself that they were just overgrown dogs.
Puppies. Yeah. They were massive puppies in super-hot human skin sacks. That’s not so scary, is it?
Lying to myself only helped so much, though.
I dreamed of wolves. And not the kind that came to the rescue of homeless girls in the forest. No, I dreamed of wolves skinned and left for dead against the warm earth, like the ones Dad and I found deep in the mountain when I was only eight.
Their massive carcasses left behind by the hunters who stole their furs.
I dreamed that the rest of that pack found us.
My dad and I standing over the carcasses.
The gun slung over my Dad’s shoulder, the one he only used for partridge and wild turkey because I cried if he killed anything else—making him look mighty guilty.
The wolves circling. Snarling. Snapping their great teeth.
I woke up just as the pack alpha lunged for Dad’s throat.
Despite the bad dream, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept through the night without waking and that was a damn good night in my books.
I wandered into the living room, admiring the massive stone hearth that reached floor to second story ceiling in front of the long brown leather sofa, matching armchairs, and low coffee table where we all ate last night.
“Jared,” Clay called, coming around the corner from the kitchen with a steaming coffee mug in his hand. He paused when he saw me. “Oh,” he grumbled, his face darkening. “Thought you were Jared.”
“I think he’s still in the shower,” I said, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as I bent to retrieve my cell phone from the coffee table. I’d forgotten it downstairs when I did my zombie-walk up to the guest room after gorging on half a large pizza.
Clay sipped his coffee. “That thing went off about a million times last night,” he said accusingly, glaring at my cell phone.
My face heated. “Shit. I’m sorry if it woke you—”
“Maybe just remember to shut the ringer off if you’re going to stay here,” he said, glaring down the bridge of his nose at me as though I were two inches tall. “I’m a light sleeper.”
Noted. “Yeah. I mean, I will. Sorry.”
He rolled his eyes and turned back into the kitchen. “Hey,” I called to stop him, going out on a limb. “Is there any more of that coffee?”
He eyed me, his lips pressing firmly together. I held my breath.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “But you can get it yourself.” I didn’t tell him I wasn’t going to ask, that I wasn’t the sort of girl who needed to be fucking waited on hand and foot.
He could just figure that out on his own.
Steeling myself, I pressed forward, following him into the kitchen to grab a mug from the cupboard where I saw Jared grab a couple yesterday morning.
Clay went over to the table and grabbed a carbon vented front disk protector off the surface. For the first time, I noticed how his hands were dark with the stain of engine grease. How the stains collected around his calloused fingers and in the cracks of his chapped skin.
“What are you working on?” I attempted conversation, pouring myself a cup of coffee and taking a sip.
The question was more to start a conversation than anything.
I already knew what the part was and what it was for.
Though, he didn’t have the bike specific mount kit with it, so I didn’t know what kind of dirt bike he planned to put it on.
He looked like a Honda guy to me, though.
I’d installed a similar part on my Yamaha a couple years back.
But I stopped riding after Dad died. And my aunt and uncle didn’t think dirt biking was a normal activity for a then sixteen-year-old girl, so they sold it, along with all Dad’s shop tools.
I didn’t let them sell his bike, though.
It was in the storage unit along with all the rest of my things and their furniture.
It was a Maico 620 and I intended to ride it someday. Whenever I could stomach the idea of riding without Dad.
Clay eyed me up and down as though measuring my hand and foot. He could just figure that out on his own. Steeling myself, I pressed forward, following him into the kitchen to grab a mug from the cupboard where I saw Jared grab a couple yesterday morning.
Clay went over to the table and grabbed a carbon vented front disk protector off the surface. For the first time, I noticed how his hands were dark with the stain of engine grease. How the stains collected around his calloused fingers and in the cracks of his chapped skin.
“What are you working on?” I attempted conversation, pouring myself a cup of coffee and taking a sip.
The question was more to start a conversation than anything.
I already knew what the part was and what it was for.
Though, he didn’t have the bike specific mount kit with it, so I didn’t know what kind of dirt bike he planned to put it on.
He looked like a Honda guy to me, though.
I’d installed a similar part on my Yamaha a couple years back.
But I stopped riding after Dad died. And my aunt and uncle didn’t think dirt biking was a normal activity for a then sixteen-year-old girl, so they sold it, along with all Dad’s shop tools.
I didn’t let them sell his bike, though.
It was in the storage unit along with all the rest of my things and their furniture.
It was a Maico 620 and I intended to ride it someday. Whenever I could stomach the idea of riding without Dad.
Clay eyed me up and down as though measuring my worth. I refrained from balking at his stare. “It’s for a Honda CRF 450 R.”
Big fucking bike. But then, I supposed with his size, he’d need something that big. “Nice. Looks like you’re missing the mount kit, though.”
His gaze only narrowed further.
“Hey,” Jared said, entering the kitchen with his hair still damp from the shower. He glanced between Clay and I, his brow raising.
Clay shot me one last curious glare before he shouldered past Jared and out into the yard.
I saw him pass by a window across the cabin in the living room as he went around to the back of the cabin.
I wondered if he had a shop somewhere back there.
I’d only ever seen the front of the cabin.
There hadn’t really been time to explore.
Jared poured himself a coffee and filled the toaster on the counter with four slices of whole wheat. “Hope he wasn’t being too much of a dick,” he said, the words more a statement than a question.
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t want some homeless person living in my house, either. I get it.”
Jared’s brows lowered. “You aren’t homeless, Allie.
You chose to live in that blind.”
“How would you know?”
“It was a guess. You just confirmed it.” I rolled my eyes at him.
Jared tossed two pieces of toast on one plate, and the other two on another and passed me one. “Eat fast or we’ll be late.”
Right. I still had to go to school. Though, on the bright side, at least I had a ride.
My blood chilled as I took the proffered plate from Jared. I couldn’t show up to school in Jared freaking Stone’s Jeep. I’d never hear the end of it from Viv and Layla. I’d be the target of every glare, the butt of every joke.
I could already hear the senior’s snide remarks in my head. Their disbelieving expressions as they rationalized to themselves why someone like me would be with someone like Jared. And Devin. Fuck…if Devin saw me with Jared again…I shuddered to think what he might do.
Seemingly unperturbed, Jared took a seat at the table and opened up a jar of raspberry jam. He cocked his head at me when I didn’t move to sit down. “What? You don’t like jam? There’s peanut butter too if you want.”
Unbelievable.
Thank god by the time we pulled up to Forest Grove, the parking lot was all but empty, everyone rushing to make it inside for the bell that would ring in two minutes. I managed to put distance between Jared and I and make it into first period class before I would be marked late.
The teacher for Forest Grove’s culinary arts class was super laid back, though.
I doubted he would have marked me late, especially given I’d had to limp into the classroom.
My ankle felt about a million times better, but the hike from the cabin to the lot where Jared’s Jeep was parked had made it start to ache again.
I’d need to ice it really good tonight if I planned to be walking that distance daily to get into town.