“Yeah. Don’t think it’s what it should be, to be honest. I do the work of like three people, but I like being close to home. If I want a team and better pay, I’ll have to move.”
That makes me hesitate. It’s the one thing I like about living here in Wolverston. We are all so close. It’s almost like anunspoken pact we all made after Mom died. We’d all stay close to one another and, more importantly, close to Dad.
“But, Dad,” River says, as if reading my mind. “I can’t leave.”
“Yeah, I think that would be hard.”
He sighs and then rubs at his neck. “Not a big deal. I’ll just grow a backbone and eventually ask for a team and better pay.”
“Good for you.”
I pull some plates down and dish us up. Handing one to River, he stares down at it and pouts.
“Is that all?”
“To start with. Your eyes are always bigger than your stomach.”
“You sound like Dad. He was always stingy with food.”
“He was trying to make ends meet after Mom, you know that.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He grumbles and walks to the table, sitting down. I follow him, grabbing us both another cider. With how much he’s drinking, he may need to sleep on my couch. Wild Howl offers a brand of cider specifically for non-shifting alphas. Wild Fang is more potent. Tried it once and passed out after one can.
This one is better. Gets us buzzed without the hangover the next day.
But even so, River will feel it soon if he doesn’t slow down.
He shovels food into his mouth and groans as he swallows.
“Keep it down, man,” I say with a chuckle. “Don’t need fuck sounds in here.”
He eyes me as he pushes more food into his mouth.
“Sorry,” he murmurs around a mouthful.
I take a sip of my cider and a bite of the food I made.Definitely better than what River would have done,I think, and then my mind turns to Arbor.
He’s a fucking mystery. What’s he doing right now? Where does he live? I can imagine him in a loft in the city, all metal fixtures and white countertops. Does he eat alone? Does he know how to cook, or does he survive off his stubborn energy?
“What are you thinking ’bout?” River asks, swiping at his mouth. “You look like you’re taking a shit.”
“Maybe I am.”
He wrinkles his nose and then laughs. “Nah, tell me. What’s up?”
“Got a new boss at work. He’s…well, you remember that supermoon event at The Den?”
River’s eyes widen. “Oh my gods.” He shovels more food into his mouth, a noodle hanging out of the left side when he asks, “He was the omega you told me about? The one you fucked and then he bailed?”
I wince, and he slaps his hand down so hard on the table that it jostles slightly. “Fuck dude! Does he know?”
“No, he doesn’t recognize me.”
“Shit. But you recognize him? Was it his scent or what?”
Yes, the scent. The fucking way he smells. Fucking delicious, enticing. Fantastic.
