“It’s okay, Simon. It’s our ‘in-stinks.’ Alpha said so.” Blake nodded dramatically, and everyone had to smother their laughs.
9
Simon was amazed by how at home he felt in Gray’s kitchen. Aunt Maggie bustled around the stove, flipping pancakes and stirring eggs. Garon manned the toaster, taking the pieces out and buttering them before popping new ones in.
Gray was in charge of setting the big oak table in the dining room. Everyone else moved around as well, taking care of getting the meal on the table. Simon was told to sit at the counter with a glass of juice. He figured everyone could tell he was a bit overwhelmed by all the activity.
Growing up, meals in his family home were quiet affairs. His parents took turns cooking and cleaning up. During the meal, they discussed their respective days and asked Simon about his, then they all went about their business.
At Gray’s, it wasn’t like that at all. Everyone pitched in to help, even the other pack members. Little Emma folded napkins and placed them beside each of the bright white plates. Blake laid out the forks while Jessie and Danny handled the spoons and butter knives respectively.
Gray and Emma’s dad had pulled the table apart and inserted several leaves into the center, making it stretch from one end of thedining room to the other. The other parents carried in extra chairs and put them into place. It was a well-oiled machine, a family.
And it was loud. Everyone talked and laughed over each other. Simon tried to keep up with the conversations around him but couldn’t. He could smile, though, enjoying the feelings of happiness that flowed from everyone around him.
“Simon, doesn’t the table look pretty?” It was Jessie, her long brown hair in twin braids down her back.
“It certainly does. You did a great job helping.”
She blushed and looked down. “Can I sit with you?”
“Sure,” he said, then lifted her up. She was wearing jeans and a light-purple T-shirt with some cartoon character on the front that Simon didn’t recognize.
“I’m glad you’re pack now. We missed you when you weren’t here.” Her voice was so certain, and Simon hadn’t felt this wanted in a long time. His chest burned with a familiar ache for a family of his own.
“I’m happy to be here. You guys sure are loud, though.” He grinned and tickled her side a little.
She giggled and swatted at his hand. “This isn’t loud at all. You should hear us when the whole pack is together. They’re so loud they made my ears hurt when I was little. Mommy said I cried sometimes, and she told them all to shush up.”
“And did they listen?”
“Well, Mommy said they tried, but wolves will be wolves, you know.”
“Hmm.”
“Mommy said that it was really brave of you to save us. Daddy said they owed you a life debt. I don’t know what that means, but it sounded bad. You won’t make them give you a life debt, will you, Simon?”
“Nope. Your mommy and daddy don’t owe me anything at all. But you owe me something. A big giant hug.”
She grinned and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight. “I like giving hugs. Daddy says I give the best hugs ever.”
“You know, I think your daddy just might be right.”
The room had grown quiet, and Simon looked around to see everyone watching. The adults were all smiling, and the kids were looking around trying to figure out what was going on. He turned back to Jessie but spoke a little louder so everyone could hear. “I think we’re even now. That hug paid off any debt anyone here thinks they owe me.”
Jessie’s mother called her, and she hopped off Simon’s lap and ran to her mother’s side. Gray locked his gaze on Simon, an unreadable emotion in them that Simon tried to interpret. Before he could figure it out, Aunt Maggie was calling him into the kitchen. “Simon, don’t just sit there like a lump. Get the eggs on the table. They’re getting cold.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, very pleased to have a job of his own to do.
AFTER breakfast, Simon shooed Aunt Maggie out of the kitchen and helped Garon clean up. Gray went upstairs to get dressed, then disappeared into his office to make some phone calls. The rest of the group left for their own homes. Simon found he liked the domesticity of the chore and could imagine he was part of a regular family.
The dishwasher was loaded, the pans cleaned, and the counters wiped down, so Garon rushed off to do some important task that probably involved playing a video game. Aunt Maggie was vacuuming upstairs, so Simon was left on his own to look around Gray’s home.
The living room had two large brown sofas and several matching chairs. Pale green walls held a variety of artwork, from the childish scribbles of a young Garon to framed paintings of mountain scenes. The side tables were clear of clutter, with only the occasional photo of Garon and Gray on them.
Simon paused by one and lifted it from its spot. In it, Garon and Gray posed with an older couple that must be Gray’s parents. He could see the resemblance between Gray and his father and ran his finger over Gray’s glass-covered face, remembering the feel of his skin under Simon’s fingers the night before.
“Not prickly,” Gray whispered in his ear, causing Simon to jumpand spin around. He plucked the frame from Simon’s hand and placed it back in its appointed position.
