Page 7 of Jacob Michaels is Not Crazy

“Oma…I don’t even know what to say right now.”

“Guess you’re gonna dash off in the middle of the night again, huh?” She sat back in her chair, a disappointed look on her face.

“Is the…can’t believe I’m saying this…is the were-community confined to Point Worth?”

“Of course not.” She snorted. “They’re all over the damn place.”

“Then where the hell am I gonna go, Oma?” I shook my head. “Where can I go that I wouldn’t have to worry about crazy stuff happening?”

Both of us sat at the kitchen table with that hanging in the air between us. If I was truly only upset about the fact that Andrew was a werewolf—and werewolves could be found everywhere, even if I hadn’t been aware of that fact—Point Worth was as good a place to be as any. I chewed at my lip and looked over at Oma, wondering if I could bring myself to ask the question that was on the tip of my tongue. Lucas had plenty to say about Andrew and Oma. Of course, Andrew had been the biggest problem in my mind because his…issue…had been a serious threat to my personal safety within the last twenty-four hours. Oma’s…issue…wasn’t really of a concern to me. Was it?

“Oma…”

Her arms still crossed over her chest, she just stared dully at me.

Well, dully wasn’t correct. Oma never had dull looks—there was always fire behind her eyes, a gleam in her eye. A little danger mixed with humor.

“What?” She urged me on.

Could I really ask my grandmother if she was a…it was so ridiculous I couldn’t even think it while looking at her. We were sitting at the kitchen table in the house I had grown up in—where I was visiting her and getting away from everything. A home where, up until Andrew turned into a werewolf, I was considering living in until I sorted myself out. Now I wasn’t so sure. There were answers to questions I hadn’t even asked looming in my mind, and questions without answers I couldn’t push out of my mind. If the question fell out of my mouth, would there be any coming back from that?

What would Oma say anyway? Who would own up to being a witch??

Maybe someone who speaks openly about werewolves and the were-community, Rob? Ya’ think that might be a person who owns up to being a witch? Sound reasonable to you, dumbass?

“Nothing.” I pushed away from the table.

“Where are you off to?” She frowned, her brow an expanse of furrows.

“I need to clean the…I need to clean up.” I sighed.

Oma grinned widely.

“Piss off, old woman,” I grumbled at her.

Stalking back out of the kitchen, through the living room, and up the stairs, I realized that I hadn’t really come up with a battle plan for what was next in my little Point Worth saga. Obviously, I’d have to address with Oma whether or not she was a…witch…or did I? Was that any of my concern? Whatever she was that she hadn’t told me about was none of my damn business. Right? It wasn’t my place to demand to know everything about my grandmother, especially since I hadn’t exactly been around in the last decade. Hell, I hadn’t even been a good enough grandson to check in as regularly as I should have, so storming back down to the kitchen and asking very personal questions was out of the question.

But what did it mean that Oma was a witch? Was she turning into a crunchy, groovy, earthy old chick who grew herbs and made homemade jewelry and worshipped nature? Did she brew special teas and tonics for herself and neighbors that she claimed would cure all that ails ya’? Or…was she a witch? Like, did she cast spells and dance naked under the moon and convene with all sorts of…things? I frowned to myself as I reached the top of the steps, thinking of things curling up beside my feet in the middle of the night. There was something going on in Oma’s house—something that had been going on for years, and her being a witch would certainly explain a lot of it.

This is all ridiculous.

I marched down the hall, entered the room I was using and closed the door a little more roughly than necessary. Lucas was probably just being dramatic and using poetic license when describing Oma. I had known the woman twenty-six years—my entire damn life. If Oma was a witch, one would think that I’d be the first to know aside from herself. Witches—real witches—weren’t a real thing anyway. Magic wasn’t real.

Neither are werewolves.

My breath was stuck in my throat as I yanked my shirt off and started to unbutton my pants. How had I been in California a little more than a week prior, skinny to an unhealthy degree, working myself into the ground, and living on caffeine and nicotine, playing at being Jacob Michaels—an extremely famous actor and singer? And now I was in Point Worth, being Robert Wagner—just a boy born in upper Ohio—living in his Oma’s house, learning that werewolves and the supernatural and…witches?...were a real thing? How had my life escalated to such a summit in ten years and come crashing down within fewer than two weeks?

Jacob Michaels was incredibly famous, incredibly rich, incredibly connected…and ignorant. He knew nothing of these things going on behind the scenes of everyday life. He just wanted to do his work and get paid and hide behind the façade of, well, being Jacob Michaels. Robert Wagner was who Jacob Michaels really and truly was—and he just wanted to move back home and leave the fast-paced and crazy lifestyle behind. Robert Wagner didn’t have the first clue about all of these things going on, either. But…maybe he should have? Shouldn’t I know things like, oh, yeah, my Oma is a witch and a guy I go on a date with might turn into a werewolf at the full moon?

Then there was everything that had happened with Lucas. Actually, the one thing that happened with Lucas, three times. How had I become this guy in the space of fewer than two weeks? I had fallen into bed (and other places) with a guy I barely knew and for whom I didn’t have feelings. Well, not romantic feelings. Actually, I didn’t know how I felt about Lucas. I stood there, shirt flapping open and my pants rolled down to my thighs, staring off at nothing. How did I feel about Lucas?

Lucas was cute.

He was kind.

He was shy and adorably so.

He had steady employment.