She handed me a spoon wordlessly, and I turned on a murder mystery (Maya didn’t like romcoms) while we dug into our dessert like the animals we had inside us.
When Zoe woke up coughing and sneezing, she used the very last tissue. I brought her a roll of toilet paper to use as backup, then grabbed my purse from the kitchen.
“I’m going to buy more tissues. I’ll probably pick up some snacks while I’m out, and just spend the night here,” I told Maya. “Are you heading home, or tagging along?”
She never tagged along.
She always went home.
The hesitation on her face alone was enough to surprise me.
She was actually considering it.
“I’ll come,” she finally agreed. “But you’re buying.”
My trust fund wasn’t a secret. Nor was her culinary school debt.
“Deal.”
Maya insisted on driving. My vehicular skills were indeed legendary.
“So, your wolf rejected your mate?” I asked her.
“We’re not talking about that.” Maya’s jaw clenched, her grip tightening on the steering wheel.
“Okay.” I nodded. “Have you met the Feral Pack?”
“No. I hope I never do, either. Especially if fate is trying to pair us all up.”
“At least everyone seems pretty happy so far. You’ve seen Abby and Nico together.”
She nodded grudgingly. “They’re sickeningly perfect for each other.”
“I know. It’s adorable.”
“And disgusting.”
“You don’t actually think it’s disgusting, Maya.”
She sighed. “I guess not.”
We reached the grocery store, and Maya parked. It didn’t take long to pack our cart full of snacks and candy, and I threw in fruit and veggie trays to leave in Zoe’s fridge. She would eat one slice of pizza, but she wasn’t going to touch the candy or potato chips.
Maya and I laughed about the ridiculous quantity of junk food as we loaded everything in our car, and I wiped a few happy tears from beneath my eyes when we hit the road again.
Back at Zoe’s house, we dragged her sickly butt to her bed, leaving her with a fresh tissue box.
I fashioned a glove out of one of our grocery bags and used it to sweep Snot Mountain off the couch and into another one. Maya loaded the dishwasher. I wiped down the countertops, and we cleaned up the living room together.
When we plopped down on the couch with our junk food and turned another movie on, we wrapped ourselves in blankets.
Comfortable silence stretched between us as the opening credits played.
“If I had a pack, I’d want it to feel like this,” Maya said quietly, as the movie’s title covered the screen. “Cleaning each other’s messes, sharing food, having each other’s backs.”
“Honey, we’re already your pack. Whether you like it or not.”
She smiled, just a little.
