Chapter Three
Russell
At this rate, Jameson was going to go broke—and at the Piggly Wiggly of all places. I could’ve thought of at least twenty other, better places to go to the poorhouse.
“Jameson, it’s too much. I don’t think the cabinets and fridge will fit all of this as it is.”
He frowned, looking down at the basket, full already, only three aisles in. “That’s okay. You have a separate pantry, and I have a freezer in the garage. You can stick some of your stuff in there. We’ve—you’ve got a growing boy on your hands. Can’t ever have enough meat—or everything.” He chuckled, and everybody in the place stopped what they were doing and stared. Now that I thought about it, Jameson had always been the target of stares, both innocent and not-so innocent.
I didn’t blame them one bit.
“Come on, you like steak, I bet, huh, Ollie?”
“I eat all the steak,” the little one answered proudly. He had only had steak once, leftovers from the restaurant, and he’d begged me for more every day since.
“I bet you do.”
Eventually, and to my chagrin, we had to get a second basket, only for the meat.
I interjected at one point, mostly because I was embarrassed at him asking the butcher for more steak. “Doesn’t the pack supply meat through hunting?” I lowered my voice, careful about my wording.
“The pack has become more, I would say, individualized with the new alpha’s reign. Everyone hunts for themselves, not the pack, which cuts down on supply. There’re just so many bucks I can take down in one night. And some of the pack members have given up altogether with the restraints on running.”
I opened my mouth to ask for more information, but Jameson seemed to be a magnet for every person around, and one was sniffing too close.
“I hope we can discuss this more later,” I said, grabbing his arm.
“We absolutely can.” He patted my hand linked around his bicep and gifted me that killer smile.
And if the grocery bonanza wasn’t enough, he stopped at the only department store in town and bought us a full set of dishes, silverware, pots, pans, small appliances, and everything in between. There was more stuff in the back of his truck than I’d ever owned in my life.
“You have to let me pay you back. We would’ve been fine with less than half of this.” A sob caught in my throat at his generosity and the thought of how long it would take me to repay him.
“No, I don’t. This is what pack does—this is what friends do. Deal with it and stop arguing. Right, buddy?” He put his fist out to Oliver who smiled and pounded his tiny fist against Jameson’s as hard as he could. The little traitor.
“That’s right, Papa. Be nice.”
Four hours in Distance, and I’d been outmaneuvered by my own son.
***
“Well, that’s all of it.” Jameson wiped his hands on his jean-clad thighs. Oliver had followed him around like a shadow during the entire venture of putting the groceries away.
“I can’t thank you enough. How about this? Can I make you dinner?”
As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I wished for them to go back. Feeding a male of the pack wasn’t just something another male did—it meant so much more to our kind.
Eating a meal from my hands would be the greatest honor he could bestow on me.
Jameson’s eyebrows bunched. A vein in his neck was throbbing, and my heart began to beat with the same rhythm. “I would love for you to cook for me. But I warn you, all of this is overpayment for what I did today. I’d owe you again.”
It was my turn to look confused. “Again?”
“You don’t remember, do you?”
I didn’t have a chance to remember before Oliver was tugging on the pocket of my jeans with that hungry gleam in his eye. The putting away of the groceries must’ve made him hungry—or just life in general.
“Already? Want a snack while I fix us dinner?”
He nodded and rubbed an eye. All of this moving, driving, and shopping had done him in. He was so much bigger than the other kids that sometimes I forgot how young he was.
I made him a sandwich while Jameson eyed me from across the room. Ollie was talking him up about his muscles and how fast he could run. Jameson said the right things at the right pauses in Ollie’s rambling, but his gaze never left me.
I set the sandwich down in front of the chatterbox. “Here’s a sandwich. Go clean up before you eat it.”
Jameson hesitated before saying, “I think I’ll go back to the house and clean up, too. If you’re cooking for me, that’s a special occasion. And, Russell, one more thing I forgot to tell you, tomorrow night we run as a pack—I’ll be your—I mean, since you don’t have anyone—I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
To calm him and stop his needless stuttering, I walked to the chair where Jameson was sitting and covered his shoulder, barely, with my hand. “Thank you. I’d love for you to run with me. We haven’t done that since we were kids. And I know you’d never let anything happen to me. You never even let a boy near me in school—until you went to St. James.”
He looked down, and some of his dark hair fanned out over his forehead. “I never should’ve gone there. I was too driven—too busy worrying about making money and getting out of this place. I should’ve been there to protect you from him.”
My once-calming hand fisted his shirt. “Don’t do that, Jameson, to you or to me. I got a beautiful son out of Kyle—it makes it all worth it. If I’ve learned anything about this whole ordeal, it’s that Oliver was meant to be in my life, mistake or not.”
He didn’t say another word other than to pat the top of my hand before heading out the side door. Even as a kid, he would shower and change clothes before dinner—even if that dinner was eggs and toast.
I sat down after starting all the food and thought about the events of the day. As soon as the tears came, I swept them away and decided to follow Jameson’s lead. A hot shower could cure anything.
When I came out, dressed and feeling ten times better, I rounded the corner into the living room, talking to Ollie. “Oliver, I know this place is new, but I bet you will love it like I did when I was a…”
On the couch were my parents—looking stoic and starched.
“He can go out to play with Jasmine’s children. They are cousins after all.”
“Jasmine?”
“Jasmine is your sister-in-law. She’s mated to Jeremiah. They will be over tomorrow to introduce themselves. Jasmine thought you might need some time to yourself.”
Oliver looked to me for permission and I nodded, pointing him to the back door.
My father was finding the stain of my coffee table fascinating while my mother spoke. She was reserved and callous, probably the way she was groomed to act toward me—probably the way she would treat me for the rest of my life.
“I look forward to meeting her.” I sighed, eyeing the stuff around me to unpack, wishing Jameson and I hadn’t gotten most of it done earlier. I could’ve used it as an excuse. There was already laundry to do, and I knew that my brother probably carried out housing inspections like the military—he got it from our father, so cleaning this place up a bit was also on the agenda—and finding a job—and finding a mate—and having said mate accept my illegitimate son.
You know, just a regular to-do list.
My mother blew out a long breath, all the while looking at my father, who didn’t really give a shit from his expression
“I’m sorry, Miles. I can’t just sit here and say nothing. Russell, can we talk about what happened? Can you try to make some sense of it all for us? It happened so fast—I still don’t know if I made the right decision…”
That’s when my father came to attention.
“Of course we did. He disobeyed the rules and dishonored his family and his true mate by lying with that boy. There was no other choice. There is no room for disloyalty in the pack—none.”
There, Mom. There’s your explanation.
“But we lost our son for years and I’ve missed precious time with my grandson. I don’t care what he did. It can’t be worth it. We are a family—shifter or not.”
My dad stormed out of the room and slammed the front door behind him. He would punish her—not with his hand or with stern words. No, my father punished people with silence and passive-aggressive hostility.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to stir all of this trouble up for you again.”
She wrung her wrinkled hands in her lap. “It’s nothing I haven’t wanted to say since the day you told us you were pregnant. I didn’t want you to leave, Russell. I never wanted you to be banned. If he’d let me, I would’ve gone with you.”
Tears bubbled to the surface for the third time that day, unbidden. I hadn’t any idea my mother felt that way.
“You would’ve?”
My voice had reverted back to childhood as I asked the crucial question of the female who had once been my rising sun as I was now to my son.
“Of course.” She got up, crossed the room, and, much like Jameson had done earlier, scooped me into her arms and held on while we allowed ourselves to convulse in regretful sobs.
We moved to the couch after a few minutes until the timer on the oven went off, alarming us both.
“Go ahead.” She brushed the tears from my cheeks. “We’ve blubbered enough. There’s a lot more to talk about, but…”
Jameson knocked at the door before letting himself in, which I both despised and thought was cute.
“Jameson, what are you doing here?” my mother asked before I could explain.
“Russ said he would cook dinner for me—us—you know, for helping him.”
My mom’s left eyebrow cocked, and she pursed her lips, probably stopping herself from saying something she shouldn’t. Instead, she got up from the couch and smoothed her long skirt. “Like I was saying, Russell, we have lots of things to talk about. I’ll see you tomorrow, sugar.”
“Y’all are okay again?” Jameson drawled after the door was shut behind her.
“We are better than we were—how about that?”
“Better counts. Now, what smells so damned good?”
When Jameson relaxed, he cussed. Mostly just damn and shit, but it was funny to see the change in him.
“Shepherd’s pie and peach cobbler. You still like that, right?”
His stomach rumbled. “That’s my favorite meal, male. You know it is. Some things may change about a man, but his favorite meal ain’t one of them.”
Did I mention Jameson’s accent changed with his comfort level, too? It did. It was like as his stress level lessened, his inner John Wayne came out to play.
I used to think it was comical but now, it stirred feelings in my belly and caused my dick to throb.
“That’s good. It’s ready but I have to go get Oliver. He’d maim me for starting to eat without him. He likes to say grace, anyway.”
This time Jameson put a heavy hand on my hip, and I gasped in response. “You did good raising him, Russ. He called me sir until I finally got him to call me Jameson. Real polite and smart. It must’ve been hard on your own, but he’s proof that you can do anything. I always knew you could.”