Page 56 of The Wolves of Forest Grove

“Damn,” he cursed, scrolling for something else. “I was banking on you not knowing most of these. How about—”

“No, wait,” I stopped him, grinning as the song progressed. “I haven’t heard this band in a long time.”

I frowned, realizing more than a few things had changed in the course of a few months dating Devin.

I’d stopped listening to all the indie bands I loved in favor of the Top 40 songs he liked.

I gave away tickets to a Dan Mangan concert I’d been dying to go to because he turned his nose up at the artist’s music, telling me we should splurge and see a Chris Brown concert instead.

I had nothing against those artists. I loved a lot of their songs, too. But I’d sacrificed a small part of myself when I gave those tickets to Vivian and went to the other concert instead. I’d had a great time. But it was bittersweet.

There was a divide between Devin and I and there always had been, I just didn’t see it. We were two very different people. More so than I could’ve ever imagined, actually. Since one of us wasn’t even human.

Devin had only wanted to change me to fit his mold and I’d let him. I’d offered up bits and pieces of myself to be twisted and warped until some nights when I looked into the tiny mirror in my hunting blind in the woods, I wasn’t sure who the girl was looking back at me.

With a sudden burst of curiosity, I snagged the phone from Clay’s fingers and looked at the playlist, hungrily taking in all the artist names I’d forgotten and some new ones I’d never even heard of.

I wanted to cry as I played one of my favorite Glorious Sons songs. The opening lyrics telling about summertime on a main street in a small town washed over me like a balm.

Clay stole back his phone and I blinked up at him in surprise. “Is this your playlist?”

He raised his brows at me, a hard edge to his stare. “Last I checked.”

“Can you share it with me?” I asked, “Please?”

When his unhinged jaw came up off the floor, he nodded. “Sure.”

Before long, I was singing along to another of my old favorites, cursing myself for forgetting how easily a good song could brighten a bad day.

Clay hummed along and sang a few lines really low when he thought I couldn’t hear him. I was surprised to find that he could really work his voice. The usually deep, gravelly cadence sounded rich and throaty when he sang—it made me shiver.

I used to think of Clay as being all hard edges. But I was starting to see something more beneath all the layers he kept himself concealed with. The protective armor he wore around me—around everyone as far as I could tell—was peeling back a bit and I was curious what was beneath it all.

If it was more of what I saw in him today, right now, then I was in deep deep shit.

Clay finished covering the top of the lasagna with a layer of foil and stuck it in the oven, checking the time.

“Here,” I said, reaching out for the ladle he was about to clear away. “I’ll take that.”

I misjudged his grip when I tried to grab it and my fingers slipped off the plastic handle, sending what remained of the cooled sauce flying in a sling-shot arc all over his chest, neck and bottom half of his face.

Ground beef dripped off his chin and the oily red stain of tomato sauce was already staining the skin beneath the stubble on his jaw.

His eyes sparked with blue flame.

I burst into laughter at his dumbstruck expression, doubling over when my ribs began to hurt. Tears stung at my eyes. He was covered in it. And that face.

Oh my god, that face. Like he’d been hit in the back of the head with a frying pan instead of spattered with sauce. His mouth was open in a slack ‘o’ shape, completely at odds with the frustrated, honestly slightly constipated look he had in his eyes.

My sides were splitting as I backed away, the look on his face turning less constipated and more angry by the second.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he growled, and I lunged away with him on my heels, a handful of sauce from the bowl still atop the stove in his hand.

I squealed, shouting shit, shit, shit as I careened past the sink and out into the living room, trying to find something to put between us.

But I could barely see through the tears of my laughter and I tripped, landing face first onto the carpet just as Clay caught up with me, his sauce covered hand raised and ready to strike.

“Clay,” the bark was loud and had both Clay and I spinning to the door, the laughter sharply cut off.

Jared stood in the entryway with Grams just behind him—a strange little smile on her thin lips.

“You best not be tormenting your mate,” she chastised her grandson in a playfully stern tone.

Clay cleared his throat and backed down, lowering the dirty spatula. “Grams,” he said, tossing the ladle back toward the kitchen. It landed in the sink without ceremony, splashing a little of what remained of the sauce over the wall behind the sink.

“Is that your lasagna, I smell? Wasn’t sure if you’d indulge this old bird with her favorite.”

She rubbed her hands together, brushing past Jared to find Clay and embrace him. He held the frail woman at a tentative distance in an awkward half hug, trying not to get the sauce from his neck and jaw on her.

Red cheeked, I finally got to my feet, finding Jared staring at me from the doorway. There was something about the look on his face that ate at me. He was…sad?

No. He was hurt.

But just as quickly, his adams apple bobbed and the illusion was gone.

His easy smile was back in place. The perfect one I used to hate because it made my toes curl when he flashed it my way.

Now, though, he wasn’t looking at me. He was smiling at Grams as Clay released her and excused himself to go wash off the mess I’d made.

He cast me one last glare before vanishing upstairs.

“Here, Hazel,” he said, kicking off his boots to help guide her to the living room until she sat in the armchair closest to the fireplace.

Jared then set to work building a fire in the stone hearth while Hazel stared unseeing in my general direction.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” I managed around the lump in my throat as Jared struck a long match and lit the paper and kindling.

“Disappointed?” he asked, and I hardly recognized his tone.

It was like a stab to the gut and my wolf woke at the attack.

As though she could sense the tension in the air, Grams scoffed, flipping her long braid away from her chest to lean back into the plush armchair. “Now, now,” she said. “We’ll have none of that this evening. It’s been a good long while since I’ve had company for a meal.”

Jared deflated. His crouched form in front of the slowly building fire lost most of its tension at Hazel’s words—his shoulders sagged.

Jared stood when the first bit of the log caught and met my stare. There was still a sadness drawing down the corners of his eyes, but this time the smile he gave me was real, albeit much less bright than his usual. “Help me bring in the table?”

I nodded. “Sure. Of course.”

“Glad to see you adjusting dear,” Hazel called after me as I followed Jared from the living room and out the front door.

I wasn’t sure exactly how well I was adjusting, but I suppose there had been some progress since she last saw me. It was something.

“Thanks,” I muttered. “It’s good to see you again, too.”

But I’ll be keeping my distance. A wide distance.

When we stepped out, Jared’s back lifted with a long breath of the crisp near-evening air. He let it out slowly and then turned. “Sorry,” he breathed. “I had no right to be—”

I hugged him.

A little oomf sound puffed from his lips at the force of it.

I buried my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the cedar and birch scent of him that I loved.

My pulse picked up as the nearness of him washed over me, making my belly ache and my skin prickle.

Then it slowed as I breathed him in and his hands held me close against my upper and lower back, pressing me into him.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” I said, my voice muffled against his collar.

I could sense more than see his grin, the compromising position he’d found me in with Clay when he first arrived was forgotten for the moment. “Me too.”

“Do you have to go back?” I asked as I pulled away, peering up at him.

His amber eyes shone in what remained of the daylight, that little green fleck more pronounced now than ever. The orange glow of the sun on the planes of his face cast shadows beneath his cheekbones and lent alternatingly darker and lighter shades to his dirty blond hair.

Jared shook his head, still holding me loosely around the waist. “My uncle isn’t exactly thrilled with me right now.”

And then I remembered what happened in the yard.

Right.

“I’m sorry.”

He looked at me incredulously. “It’s not your fault.”

“Am I still going to be able to meet the pack before tomorrow? Before I have to…choose?”

An ugly pit of foreboding darkness yawned open in my gut. I swallowed and stepped back to rub my arms, trying to bring warmth back into the icy limbs.

Jared nodded. “Yeah. They’re doing a bonfire at camp tomorrow. It’ll be a good way to meet everyone.”

He must’ve sensed my unease because he tugged me back in for one more quick hug, pressing his chin on the top of my head.

“It’ll be okay, Allie. Clay and I will support whatever you decide.

If you leave,” he paused, swallowing hard as though to digest the possibility.

“Then so will we. We can request to be released from the pa—”

“Whoa,” I said, tugging myself away with my hands up. “You are not going to do that.”

“But if you leave then—”

“Jared,” I interrupted him. “After everything I did to stay here, do you really think I’m just going to leave.”

“But if you stay, that means you’ll have to become pack. Accept Ryland as your alpha.”

My wolf whispered that there was another way. She wanted blood. Ryland’s blood. She wanted to take his place. I shook off the rising feelings of malice and blinked back to the present. “I know,” I whispered. “I just need a little more time and then…” I let the sentence trail off.

I didn’t want to bow to Jared’s uncle, but I really didn’t think I had much fucking choice if I wanted to stay here. Not anymore.

The silence hung between us for a long moment before Jared spoke.

“Come on,” Jared said, jerking his head toward the side of the house, changing the subject. “We keep the big table in the shed out back.”