Page 55 of The Wolves of Forest Grove

Ishouldn’t have been surprised to find Clay parked outside in the morning.

I was the first one up, and when I left the room for water, I stopped in the living room to clear away Mrs. Cole’s empty wine glass and the dish of candies she’d accidentally knocked to the floor in her sleep.

She was splayed in a pink bathrobe with purplish stains dotting the collar over the sofa where she’d been when I came in last night.

That was when I saw him. Or, rather, the jeep.

Parked across the street a little way down behind a black SUV.

I smirked, rushing to the kitchen to put away the dirty glass and swish some water around my dry mouth.

I really hoped he hadn’t been out there all night but judging by how he wouldn’t even let me run to Viv’s alone last night, I thought he probably had.

Jared’s orders.

Guilt ate at me as I rushed into the bathroom to change and quietly put together my backpack in Vivian’s room to the soft sounds of Layla’s snores. Viv’s eyes snapped open as I collected my brush from her nightstand.

“Morning sunshine,” I whispered, shoving the brush deep into my pack.

She grimaced, twitching into a deep stretch and a yawn. “Leaving without saying goodbye?” she whispered back, a little sleepy smirk on her face. “Were we just a one-night-stand to you?”

I snorted.

“My ride's here early,” I told her with a little frown. “Raincheck on brunch?”

She sighed, rolling over. “Ugh. Fine. Go before you really wake me up. I’m not done sleeping yet.”

I lifted Layla’s gift from the nightstand and set it between her and Layla on the bed.

“Tell her she can open it when she wakes up,” I added before slipping from the room.

After everything went down last night, the gifts had been brushed aside.

Layla wasn’t exactly in a gift-opening mood and we were all too happy to get lost in the tragic romance playing out on the screen instead of lingering on our own drama.

The morning was uncharacteristically warm for autumn and I inhaled the crisp scent of dry leaves as I stepped outside and bounded down onto the sidewalk. If Clay was really there all night, I didn’t want him waiting there until the afternoon, too.

With the early morning sun on my face, I went straight to the driver’s side of the Jeep, ready to give Clay hell for creeping in front of Viv’s house. Did he really think the threat was so great that I wasn’t safe inside of a house? With a family of mortals?

I reached up to tap on the window, but my hand stopped just shy of its mark.

It was Clay, alright. But he was asleep.

The driver’s seat was laid against the back seats and he was passed out with his arms up behind his head.

With his blue eyes shuttered and his muscles relaxed, he looked so different from the Clay I knew.

But like I’d seen once before, Clay didn’t look fully relaxed even when he slept.

There was a crook in his brow and a tightness around his jaw that made him seem like he could have only been pretending to sleep.

Back in his signature black tee shirt, I stifled a laugh at the sheer amount of convenience store food wrappers splayed over his chest and across the passenger seat.

Pepperoni and cheddar sticks, several bags of Doritos, and one of those god-awful gas station sandwiches were the staples amid the smaller chocolate and candy items he’d had for his evening feast.

Briefly, I thought about turning around and going back inside. Maybe texting him first? That way he could wake up on his own instead of me startling him.

I bit my lower lip, about to back away when he stirred.

His left eye slitted open and then widened when he saw me.

He stilled and then jolted bolt upright, smashing his head against the roof in his haste to sit up.

Bits of plastic and paper scattered from his chest onto the floor of the jeep and he cursed loudly under his breath.

My face pinched when he turned his furious gaze on me. “Sorry,” I offered, backing away from the Jeep as he shoved the door open and stepped out, still rubbing the top of his head.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly, a blush staining his cheeks red. “I—uh—was just—”

“Spying on me?” His eyes widened.

“No,” He bit out, straightening and removing the hand from his head to ball it at his side. “I just didn’t think I should leave you alone.”

“I wasn’t alone.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Were you worried about me?” I teased him, but that only made his blush deepen and his knuckles turn white against the tan skin of his massive hands.

He muttered something about never doing something nice for someone without something and I laughed. “God, Clay, I was joking.”

“Just get in the damned Jeep,” he growled, getting back in himself and shutting the door with a loud resounding bang that echoed in the empty streets of early morning.

Probably waking several of the neighbors.

He was still muttering to himself when I slid into the seat next to him and he started the engine.

As we walked up to the cabin about a half hour later, Clay groaned to himself and tipped his head back as though suddenly exasperated.

“What?” I asked, confused as I rushed to match his pace through the sun-warmed brush.

“It’s Grams,” he moaned, and I twirled in a quick circle, wondering how I’d missed her. But I didn’t see her anywhere at all.

I raised a brow at him, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “She stopped by yesterday while you were at work. I completely forgot she was coming today.”

“She is?”

Vaguely, I remembered the older woman mentioning something about coming over to get some of Clay’s lasagna, but she hadn’t come, and it’d been a week. I thought maybe she’d forgotten. I know I had.

“Oh, right,” I said, cutting him off before he could answer as the cabin came into focus in the distance. “She wants your lasagna. I totally forgot.”

He screwed his face up at me and I mirrored the look, shrugging. “I figured she would have told you. Or that Jared would have. We ran into her last week when I was practicing with my new bow.”

He only seemed more confused by that. “Your…bow?”

Not for the first time, my chest panged with guilt at the rift I’d inadvertently caused between Clay and Jared. Then and there, I resolved to do what I could to fix that rift, no matter what it took. I wouldn’t be the reason their friendship was destroyed.

I thought they’d get over it. Take some time to stew and moan and then shake hands and make up. But they were still barely speaking. It was getting to be a bit ridiculous and I wondered if the rift would ever heal itself.

“I’ll explain while we cook,” I offered. “I hope you have everything to make one. The pantry was looking a little…bare.”

Clay wrinkled his nose. “It’s not anymore. Jared made me shop yesterday while you were out. Said you probably wouldn’t touch the cash he left you and I’d have to do it.”

Bastard.

“Have what you need then?”

He tipped his head this way and that, considering. “We can make it work.”

My mouth pulled into a smile. “Does that mean you’ll let me help?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Too bad. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“I can think of a few things. Like Math and Geography homework for one,” he said with an infuriating smirk and the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

I gasped, putting a hand to my chest in mock horror. “On a Saturday? Blasphemy.”

After each of us took a turn in the shower, Clay turned on the radio in the nook by the door in the kitchen and we began to cook. I’d had to switch the station three times in the last two hours since we started with the chopping of the veg and browning the meat.

Wincing when a Timberlake song came on, I went to the radio for the fourth time and hit the preset button for another station. A horrid country song filtered out through the speakers and Clay made an annoyed grunting sound behind me. Guess he wasn’t a country fan. Which was fine. Neither was I.

I switched to another station and then another until there was a song playing that didn’t make me cringe and images of Devin parade through my mind. I’d been doing so well today. I was…okay. Feeling lighter than I had in weeks.

I didn’t want to ruin it.

“You’re one of those girls who can’t get through a full song without skipping to the next one, aren’t you?” Clay asked with a slight eye roll as he layered the meat sauce atop a set of noodles in the massive glass Pyrex dish.

I’d been surprised while watching him cook. He didn’t cook often and when he did, what he made was usually simple, or pre-cooked, but this was different.

His knife skills alone were enough to tip me off that he knew his way around a kitchen far better than I’d assumed. And the sauce was incredible. I’d suggested the addition of mushrooms, but the rest was all him. A recipe only he knew, tucked away in his mind.

I wondered where he learned it.

“It’s not that,” I said, trying to conceal a slight blush when I turned around. “There are just certain songs that I…just can’t listen to anymore.” I shrugged, going back to washing out the pot we’d cooked the sauce in while blowing a stray chunk of turquoise hair from my cheek.

Clay had gone silent behind me, and when I peered back at him, he was still. His brows drawn down as his hand hovered with a ladleful of sauce over the noodles, thinking something intently.

He put the ladle back into the bowl and rubbed his hands clean on the tomato stained dishtowel we’d been using. Then he left without a word and returned once I was finished with the pot, setting a small black box down on the countertop and switching off the radio.

He thumbed through something on his phone—the device looking miniscule in his grip—and then pressed a button. The little Bluetooth speaker came to life with a song I didn’t recognize.

But a voice that I did, I realized after a second of listening.

“Is this Banners?” I asked, shaking the excess suds from my fingertips.