AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As Brody led me into the house, the smells of fresh vegetables and elk meat filled the room. It smelled like my childhood memories, and all at once they assaulted my conscious mind. I heard Mom’s laughter as she stood over the stove, stirring homemade venison noodle soup. I watched Dad smile as he pulled cheesy toast out of the oven, complete with extra crispy slabs of candied bacon on top. I looked over at the kitchen table and saw the ghosts of our past gathered around the wooden structure, passing around juice and filling our plates with food as the sun rose above the treetops.
Where had that life gone?
Why couldn’t it have lasted forever?
“Everyone, listen up!”
Brody’s voice caught my attention and I turned to face him, as did the rest of the pack that was at my place.
“This is only just beginning,” he said as he held his hands in the air, commanding their attention. “The bears have gone too far this time, and they’re going to pay for those they have ripped from us. They’ve trampled on us for the last time. So, go. Eat, grieve, and bury your deceased. Because after our sorrow has passed, it’s planning time. Aw-ooooo!”
“AW-OOOOO!”
“Alpha?” a man asked behind me.
I turned to face him. “Yes?”
He offered me a bowl of stew. “Just for you. Alpha always gets the first bowl.”
I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t his alpha any longer, but instead of kicking up more drama where it wasn’t necessary, I simply took the bowl and nodded my head.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Rowland. I really appreciate it.”
The smile that crossed his face gave me pause. Why did he look so happy to serve me a bowl of food? I didn’t pay it much mind after that, though. The last thing I needed was to think too hard about things. I turned back around and took a bite of the luscious stew I had been given. The carrots were still a bit crunchy, and the caramelized onions practically melted on the tip of my tongue. It took everything I had not to groan out in enjoyment in the middle of Brody addressing the pack.
And as I stood there, watching him naturally take command, I knew the pack was in good hands.
Guess I’ll leave, then.
The chomping of my jaw backdropped the chorus of tears that continuously erupted from my backyard. I had to get away from it. I needed to leave this behind so that my mess could be cleaned up. I had no right leading this pack. I had no right leading these people. They needed my father. Or at the very least, they needed someone who understood their customs. Their wants. Their needs.
They needed family leading them.
And I sure as hell wasn’t family.
“Mmm, thank you so much, Mr. Rowland. I think that’s the best stew I’ve ever had,” I said as I set my bowl in the sink.
He quickly snatched it up and cleaned it. “That’s a high honor, coming from you. Thank you so much.”
I patted his back. “No, thank you. Thank you for feeding this pack while you’re under duress yourself.”
He sniffled. “I appreciate the recognition.”
After taking one last peek out the kitchen window, I headed upstairs. I stayed cooped up in my childhood bedroom until the last of the pack had left. Then, I threw my things into my bags. I paused for a moment wondering if I should tell them all goodbye. But I quickly shook my head. The last thing I needed was one of the guys attempting to stop me again as I made my way back to Los Angeles.
After all, I had fulfilled my end of the bargain.
So, in my eyes, there was no reason for anyone to stop me from going home.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I whispered to myself.
I hauled my bags downstairs and tried to ignore the stench of old, stale blood. I dragged my bags outside, hoisting them into the rental car that I had used to get to the damn place in the beginning. I was damn near an hour outside of Portland, and the sun had sunken heavily behind the trees. And while I knew the darkness would cloak me off from everyone else, it was going to be a slow drive.
“Better get a move on it, then,” I murmured.
I drove the winding, narrow streets of the mountain towns. I skirted the edges of the base of the behemoth rock structures, praying to any God listening that a rockslide wouldn’t prevent me from getting into town. With every sign for Portland that I saw, the mileage dwindled. Forty-two miles out. Thirty-one miles out. Fifteen miles out.
Then, finally, I crossed over the threshold of Portland’s city limits.
