Page 38 of Jacob Michaels is Not Here

“Revenge for him tryin’ to turn your boyfriend into one of his puppies back when?” Oma gave me a look that let me know she wasn’t falling for my attempt at deflection. “Two enemies with a long history will find any ole excuse to come at each other, ya’ know.”

“It’s not that.”

“Ya’ sure?” She asked. “’Cause, if someone went after my boyfriend like Jason did yours, well, I’d have lit their ass on fire at the very least. So…you sure ya’ ain’t just jonesin’ to get some revenge?”

In response, I just stared at Oma blandly.

“Well?”

“Look…I may have been confused about what Lucas is—what’s hidden in his family tree—for the last few weeks, years, whatever. But I remember what Lucas is now. I can understand why he was such a desirable target for Jason. I mean, who wouldn’t want to add Lucas to their pack?”

Oma smirked.

I ignored the expression.

“So, I understand why Jason tried to recruit him and don’t hold that against him, okay? He would have been a desirable addition to the pack. I get that.”

“That’s mighty reasonable of ya’, Robbie.” Oma smiled widely. “Gee, that’s kind of you to see things from Jason’s point-a view.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You’re pissed off.” Oma jabbed a finger at me, which made me want to jump, now that I fully understood what a finger jab could do. “You can pretend that all these memories floodin’ back into your thick skull ain’t got your hackles up, but we both know better.”

“It’s not—”

“If you want to go mark your territory in blood, well, you just feel free.” Oma snapped. “Don’t bring none of that to my doorstep, ya’ hear? I won’t get you out of no trouble you started without cause.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Of course, I will.” She snapped again. “I ain’t lettin’ the damn wolves have their way. But I’ll take you over my knee the second I have to clean a damn bit of your mess up.”

Rolling my eyes, I slugged back the rest of my coffee. It wasn’t quite cool enough to do, but I managed to not choke as I swallowed it down and set my coffee mug on the table. Oma stared at me, her arms folding across her chest as she examined me, trying to figure out which way I would fall on the issue.

“Tell me what we do if the pack grows, Oma,” I said. “If you can tell me you have a plan for what to do in a worst-case scenario, I won’t do anything to anger Jason.”

“If that pack starts gettin’ too big for its britches, I’ll take care of it my damn self.” Oma nodded firmly. “And it won’t just be Jason whose ass is smokin’, either.”

“They’re already mad at me for all their wolves I’ve hurt,” I added. “Even if they don’t remember everything in our past. And they want to punish Lucas for Andrew getting hit by his truck, and—”

“We done settled that.” Oma waved me off. “We’ll send them a nice big bundle of cash—your cash, not mine—and that should keep ‘em out of our hair at least for a while.”

“Can’t wait to call my accountant for that.”

“And in the meantime, while they’re over there plottin’ their little schemes and watchin’ for a reason to be mad—while he is out of commission—we’ll get you up to snuff. That’s the only way you win a war—plannin’, preparin’, and plottin’.”

“Those are all kind of the same thing.”

Oma sighed.

“Do you really think there’s any way that this will end well, Oma?” I asked. “For me, I mean?”

“Not if you go off half-cocked, no.” She snapped once more.

“Fine.” I rose from the table, the legs of my chair squealing on the linoleum. “I won’t go after Jason and his pack unless they come after me first.”

Oma looked up at me, her eyes squinting at me, disbelieving.

“The Toledo LGBTQIA Center oracle sends her regards,” I stated evenly.