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“But then when he hit me you told me it was okay to punch him? So I don’t understand. Are you nice till she hits you?” He sat on the bed next to me, staring and waiting for a definitive answer that would surely be remembered and used against me at some unexpected moment in the future.
I really wasn’t ready to have this conversation tonight. How did I explain to him that the rules in life had all changed? That I had no idea myself? A year ago, there was structure; there were consequences. Now? If he didn’t hit Alec back, according to Buddie, he’d end up lower on the hierarchy of shifters and eventually maybe end up so low he could be a punching bag for the entire pack. That conversation had made me want to go running and screaming from pack life altogether, but I couldn’t tell him that either. How did I raise a kid and not screw him up when I didn’t feel like an adult myself most days?
“Look, the rules here might be different than what they used to be before Death Day. I’m still learning them too. But tonight I don’t think anyone is going to be hitting anyone. Plus, there are people who want to get to know me better.”
“Why don’t they want to get to know me too?”
I ruffled his hair. “They do, but this is more of an adult dinner. You have kid parties, and this is a big-person party.”
He seemed to ponder that for merit, and then he nodded.
“Hey, here for the kid,” Buddie called from the other room. “Where are you, Charlie?” He poked his head in the door. “Rastin got us a new game.”
“Really?” Charlie was up, and just like that, I was off the hook. Why couldn’t Buddie have come just ten minutes earlier?
Charlie barely looked back at me as he ran to go find out what the new game was.
I spent the next few minutes in pure dread. Maybe I could show up late? Say I wasn’t feeling so well? I could probably trim ten minutes off that way, but then getting out earlier might be trickier. I should save the headache for after dinner.
I’d go, and if it got bad, I’d plead a migraine. They already thought I was weak anyway.
I grabbed the black sweater, least-worn jeans, and sturdy boots and walked out the door.
Kicks was on his way toward my stoop, heading from the guys’ house.
“I was checking in with the guys. Figured we could walk over together.” That same gleam was in his eye.
Checking in? Now? Timing was a bit suspect. I’d call him out on it, but he wouldn’t care anyway.
No matter what I did, we’d be walking over together. It might look worse if I tried to put a few paces between us, like I was trying to hide something. Boy, did this one like to stir up trouble and irritate the hell out of Duncan.
Although I wouldn’t exactly mind irritating Duncan myself. Allhedid lately was irritate me. “Sounds good.”
“Do you have dinners there frequently?” he asked innocently, as if he didn’t know.
“No. This is actually my first time dining there, as you might’ve heard.” I glared his way, silently asking if we were really going to play this game.
He was smirking again. “I don’t like to assume too much.”
“Don’t you, though?”
He laughed. This man had no shame in his game.
Duncan looked as if he were going to march over and punch Kicks in the face the second we arrived at their house, a charming gingerbread ordeal and the nicest building in this development. Groza looked at Duncan as if she wanted to punch him. For some reason, this made Kicks smile even more, and it didn’t look like it was forced or fake. He genuinely enjoyed getting in Duncan’s head and messing around in there.
Groza turned to us and used every ounce of energy she had to force a smile. The effect sent a chill down my spine.
“So glad you two could make it,” she said, waving us in.
We stepped inside, and the only one who didn’t seem tense was Kicks, who was smiling and commenting something or other about liking her house. He seemed to genuinely mean it, too.
As he was enjoying the décor, I felt like I had just entered purgatory and was counting the minutes until I could go somewhere else, anywhere else.
Maddocks arrived only a minute or so later. He again looked about the room as if he knew something was off but couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. I guessed his gossip resources weren’t as good as Kicks’.
Groza ushered us all over to the table, and somehow I ended up seated in between Maddocks and Kicks. I’d just sat when Kicks reached over and grabbed my chair, sliding it closer to his.
Duncan was scowling again, not playing his assigned role as Groza’s mate very well. He should’ve taken tips from Kicks, who seemed to be overselling our relationship. Groza was barely hanging on to any remnants of the happy host. Maddocks looked as if he was finally catching on to the not-so-subtle interactions between the rest of us. He kept coughing, as if trying to stifle his laughter.
