Liam froze, eyes locked on the fork with suspicion.
I demonstrated, spearing a chunk of potato and bringing it to my mouth. "See? Less messy."
After a moment's deliberation, Liam cautiously picked up the fork beside his plate, holding it awkwardly like he'd never handled one before. He tried to copy my motion, but ended up dropping a glob of potato salad onto the table.
His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but I pretended not to notice.
"Takes practice," I said, demonstrating again. "Try holding it like this."
He adjusted his grip, determination etched across his face as he concentrated on the task. His next attempt was more successful, though he still managed to get potato salad on his chin.
Without thinking, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a clean napkin, offering it to him. "For your face."
Liam stared at the napkin for a long moment before taking it with hesitant fingers. He swiped at his chin, missing most of the potato salad.
"Little higher," I said, pointing to my own chin.
He tried again, this time cleaning himself properly.
Despite the mess, I was impressed by how quickly he adapted. This wasn't a kid with limited intelligence—this was someone who'd simply never been taught. The thought mademy chest ache. What circumstances had led to him being alone, without even these basic skills?
"Drink?" I asked, standing slowly to avoid startling him.
Liam tensed, but gave a small nod.
I returned to the kitchen, grabbing a beer for myself and, after a moment's consideration, a bottle of apple juice for him. Bug had mentioned once that many shifters preferred sweet drinks, their enhanced taste buds making bitter flavors like beer less appealing.
When I returned, I was pleased to see Liam still sitting there, working on his potato salad with determined concentration. His fork handling had improved considerably in just those few minutes.
I set the juice down at his end of the table, then retreated back to my seat before opening my beer. Always giving him space, always making sure he had an escape route. The kid was like a wild animal—one wrong move and he'd bolt.
"It's apple juice," I said when he eyed the bottle suspiciously. "Sweet. Try it."
He picked up the bottle and sniffed it cautiously before taking a small sip. His eyes widened slightly—apparently he approved. The bottle was half empty within seconds.
Progress. Small steps, but progress all the same.
I watched as Liam finished the last of his potato salad, his fork handling improving with each bite. The kid was a quick study, I'd give him that. There was intelligence behind those golden eyes—a sharp mind that had clearly helped him survive God knows what kind of life.
As he set down his fork with a satisfied expression, I figured it was time to see if I could get some information out of him without sending him running for the hills again.
"So," I began casually, keeping my tone light, "you've been watching our place for a while, huh?"
Liam's posture immediately stiffened, wariness returning to his eyes.
I raised my hands in a placating gesture. "Not accusing you of anything. Just curious how much you've seen."
He studied me for a long moment, then gave a small nod.
"Have you noticed other people hanging around who shouldn't be? Besides today's computer guy, I mean."
Liam's eyes flicked toward the clubhouse, then back to me. He held up two fingers.
"Two other times?" I asked, surprised. "Recently?"
He shook his head, then gestured with his hands to indicate something that had happened further in the past.
"When?" I pressed gently.
