Jim straightened his full height and looked me in the eye with a stern and serious expression. “Can I have some cereal, too?”
Through the doors, Aden shouted his approval. I slowly nodded, coming to terms with several facts.
First, Blake did still lurk out there somewhere.
Second, the actions of an individual or even a handful of individuals within a race...er, species...shouldn’t be used to pass judgement on the entire species. That didn’t mean I was willing to risk the safety of my brothers by trusting Emmitt, Jim, and Nana. Yet, I couldn’t ignore the fact that they’d given me no reason not to trust them other than showing me they grow fur, too. Blake, on the other hand, had given me so many reasons not to trust him. And, that was before he had even shown his fur.
If Blake and the people here were the same, would it be wise to pass up the opportunity to learn about their kind while we were still relatively safe? Between the opportunity to learn more, the potential protection they could offer, and the way we’d been treated so far, the reasons to stay outweighed the reasons to leave. But, not by much.
Lastly, maybe I wanted to stay because I was curious about Emmitt and the vision.
I joined the boys inside and watched them laugh when Jim fished out a mixing bowl as his cereal bowl.
He stayed with us for the rest of the morning, acting as an indoor jungle gym. The boys climbed all over him, used him as a horse, had him hold blankets while they built a fort, fed him, of course, then settled down to watch fuzzy cartoons with him. The rain continued to fall. Without Jim, I would have gone crazy with their energy.
I watched how he interacted and reacted to the boys’ antics. In his eyes, I saw the typical amusement but also concern when Liam accidently rolled into Aden, causing Aden to cry. He acted nothing like Blake. Heck, he acted nothing like David who was human. It helped further ease my concern about my lost determination to leave.
Before lunch, Jim apologized and said he needed to go back downstairs. With sad eyes, we all watched him go. Werewolf or not, I was glad he’d spoken to me, and I was glad he’d stayed.
The afternoon progressed slowly with Aden and Liam requiring all of my time and attention. My annoyance with them bubbled to the surface again, as it had the day before.
They fought, whined, and pouted their way to just before dinnertime when it finally stopped raining. Not caring about wet grass or mud, I nodded when Aden asked to go outside then sat in the middle of the retired warzone. Lunch shrapnel still stuck to the counters. Overturned stools blocked the hallway to the bedrooms. Cushions from the sofa littered the floor.
Jim found me in the same spot fifteen minutes later.
“Rough afternoon?” he asked grinning.
“I think I’m ready to start drinking,” I tiredly joked as I threw a cushion closer to its home.
“I’ll make you a deal. You cook me something, and I’ll watch the kids for you.”
“Deal.” I didn’t care if I just made a deal with the devil. I’d lock Aden in a room myself if I had to spend another ten minutes with him. As soon as I had that thought, I felt horrible.
Jim ducked back into the hall and bellowed downstairs that I would make dinner. Then, he disappeared, leaving me with my guilty thoughts. Outside, I heard faint, childish cheering. I drifted to the porch and watched Jim run out the door and chase Aden and Liam around the swing set. Jim’s low laugh reached me on the third story. It didn’t feel fake. He enjoyed spending time with them. These people seemed so real. Please let them be just as they seem. Please don’t let them turn out to be like Blake. I turned away from their play, an act of trust that filled me with apprehension.
After straightening the apartment back to its original state, I went to the refrigerator to examine the ingredients. Whatever I made, I needed a lot of it. I wondered if Jim’s and Emmitt’s appetites had to do with what they were.
For dinners with Blake, he’d always provided me with a strict menu along with the required quantities, expecting me to cook it all. The largess made more sense now as did his pickiness. I’d learned to hone my cooking skills after he’d criticized my first few attempts. He’d smelled the hint of scorch on a batch of biscuits even though I’d thrown away the burnt ones.
I opened the freezer and pulled out the five-pound package of ground beef to start it defrosting.
“Can I help?” Emmitt asked from the door.
My stomach flipped with joy at the sound of his voice. I glanced at him. He casually leaned against the wall just inside the door, watching me with a wary, yet hopeful, gaze.
My heart hammered, and I frowned. It was easier dealing with Jim because I had no particular reaction to him. Emmitt divided me. He pulled me in too close without even trying and that scared me as much as it thrilled me. Avoiding him would be safer. At least, until I sorted out my reactions to him and gave the vision of us more thought. It hadn’t exactly enforced his claim that he just wanted to be friends.
As I took a breath to politely decline, he held up a bottle that he’d held half-hidden behind his leg.
“I also brought up wine. Jim said you needed it.”
“One glass,” Nana called loudly up the stairs.
Emmitt grinned at me and winked. His boyish smile and dimple disarmed me, and I found myself nodding. He didn’t hesitate. He left the door open and joined me in the kitchen. Darn it! Why had I nodded?
He found the biggest glass in the cupboard and filled it to the top with wine.
“You don’t have to drink any,” he said when he caught my look.
I picked up the glass and took a large swallow. It wasn’t my first glass of wine. Blake had insisted on wine at the table and me drinking it. I didn’t mind the taste or the mellow feeling that followed after a few sips. But I knew better than to drink the whole thing. I couldn’t afford the resulting dull senses.
The microwave beeped. I turned the meat, removed the thawed pieces, and put them into a large bowl. Then, I washed my hands and tossed Emmitt an onion with a request to chop it.
We worked together to assemble meatloaf. Eggs, oats, spices, ketchup, onion, and brown sugar crowded in the bowl along with a growing pile of meat. Emmitt mixed while I dug out a pan.
Each time I came back to the counter, I took another sip. The wine did its job, and I began to relax. I realized just how much when I opened my mouth to ask for pepper and said something else entirely.
“He locked them in their room when he got tired of them.” I froze and stared at my hands. I couldn’t believe what I’d just said. Obviously, I still felt guilty about my own thoughts in regard to locking Aden in a room.
The water ran behind me briefly. Then he touched my shoulder, turning me toward him. Standing a foot apart, I tilted my head a bit to meet his eyes. He didn’t look at me with pity or any other emotion I could name. But something in his face, understanding maybe, caused a dam to break.
“My mom died just after Aden was born. My stepfather, their dad, died two days before I saw you at that diner. I’m all my brothers have. I won’t let them be locked in a room again.”
He didn’t touch me, just stood close, listening.
“David will never get the chance,” he promised. Determination laced his voice, and his eyes took on a steely glint.
Huh? David? As I frowned at him, I realized I’d never spoken about Blake, and a spark of hope that he really had nothing to do with Blake surfaced again. I studied him and tried to read the truth from his face. I couldn’t see truth or lie, but I saw a flash of something else as his eyes met mine. Tenderness.
“I’m not afraid of David.” I turned away, poured the rest of my wine into the sink, then put the meatloaf in the oven.