Page 85 of Wanted
“I’m not usually the one who does the cooking for our pack. I rarely cook at all. My mom taught me, but that was years ago …” He clears his throat. “I can go see what Ms. Elsie and the others have made for dinner if you want?”
I scrunch my face and stare at him, mid-chew. Is he actually nervous?
In a million years, I would’ve never associated such an emotion with this powerful man. Yet, he’s peering at me as if his breathing hangs on my assessment of his cooking.
A smile touches my lips.
I swallow the bite of food in my mouth before answering, “Considering this is my second plate, I think we can assume you did an excellent job. Thank you.”
He actually pushes out a breath, looking relieved.
“There’s more in the kitchen, so eat up.”
“I think this will be enough,” I reply, almost embarrassed at how greedily I bite into my second fajita.
“You need your strength,” he reemphasizes. “The supermoon is in two days. Your wolf is growing stronger.”
I swallow before parting my lips to, once again, tell him about my doubts that this is even my reality.
But I’m cut off by the vibration of my phone on the wooden coffee table.
An automatic groan releases from my mouth when I see the name pop up on my phone screen.
“Mom,” I say with mock enthusiasm.
“Is that the way you were taught to answer a telephone?”
I snap my eyes shut. “I’m sorry. Hello, Mother. How are you?” I don’t miss the way my voice takes on a monotone sound.
I sense Chance’s powerful gaze on me. For some reason, I don’t turn to look at him.
“That’s better,” she says. “How many more weeks can I expect you to continue playing with those rocks in Colorado before you return home and to your fiancé? Hello? Emery, are you alright?” she asks, while I choke on the food I’d been eating. I cough a few more times while Chance pats my back, peering down at me with concerned eyes.
I blink away the tears brought on by the coughing and wave at him to let him know I’m okay.
“D-did you say my fiancé?” I ask my mother. “I don’t have?—”
“Of course you do. Billy is anxious to marry you and start a family as soon as possible.”
“Mother, we’ve been through this. He and I broke up months ago. He said he wanted to focus on completing medical school.”
“Nonsense,” she insists. “Temporary time apart while he focuses on his career is not the same as a break up. It is especially not enough reason for you to run off to Colorado to play in dirt like a child.”
Her voice grows more strained and tense with each word.
“My internship is more than playing with rocks,” I defend.
I press a hand to my chest to stave off the suddenly piercing pain at the center. An image of my mother’s disgusted face when she found me stuffing my mouth in the middle of the night, returns to me.
That look is imprinted on my memory forever. It’s the look I saw in my mind’s eye every time I thought about doing something I knew she wouldn’t approve of.
She just wants the best for me.
The same words I used to tell my sister over and over again, are the same words I always used to settle my own resentful or sad emotions.
“Nonsense,” she repeats. “When is it over?”
I remember that I hadn’t even told her I resigned from my internship. I knew she would demand that I return home if I had, but I couldn’t do that. Not knowing what I could potentially be. And that Ashley was home safe.