I stumbled down to the kitchen, sun light seeping in through the windows. The light made my sleep- filled eyes hurt. Finding an open bag of pretzels in the back of a cabinet, I concluded that would be my breakfast. I wasn't at a functioning point of awake to put anything else together. Munching and slugging back up the stairs, I tried to assess how many people were home. I heard a few different snores. Everyone else seemed to have gone to work for the day.
Back in my room, I dropped down on my bed. I groaned as my body relaxed, realizing I should do laundry on a werewolf-free day. After staring at the ceiling and mentally convincing myself that I needed to get my day started, I flipped my laundry bin over. As I bent in half and started organizing, my phone's ringtone sounded. I grabbed it off my side table before it woke everyone else up. The men I lived with weren't forgiving if you interrupted their sleep.
"Hello?"
"Ashlyn hi, it's Carol. I wanted to talk to you about the project outline. I know it's not due for three more weeks, but I wanted to make sure our sections all meshed."
I rolled my eyes. Carol was a pushy over-achiever. She would say she wanted to make sure she was doing it right but was actually making sure you were doing the project how she wanted it done.
"Yeah, Carol. What's up?"
I put my phone on speaker, barely listening to her rambling on as I organized the dirty clothes. A couple minutes later, James walked into my room silently. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him lay down on my bed. I glanced at him and turned away so he wouldn't see the blush that was rising on my cheeks. My chest stirred at his attire wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that was so tight it would probably fit me comfortably. The shirt was pulled even tighter as his hands rested behind his head. I never believed the internet theory about men in sweatpants being attractive until James started wearing them more often.
James and I hadn't spoken about the other night at dinner. I didn't know if it was because we weren't sure what to say or didn't want to accidentally start a fight. It wasn't as if we weren't speaking at all. As normal, we spent most of our time together, more so now that Charlie insisted he was my bodyguard. I knew I was holding back a little bit around the Pack. I knew that James noticed.
James moved beside me, started taking things out of my hands and dividing the clothing. It's almost embarrassing that he so casually handled my underwear and bras.
"Ashlyn?" I zoned back into reality when my name came through my phone.
"Oh shoot, I'm sorry Carol. I'm at my parents' house. Can I call you back? My siblings are distracting me," I told her. I could see James laughing silently beside me. She agreed, though sounded annoyed. I smacked him on the side, not stopping his laughter.
"You don't have to help me. I know how to do my own laundry."
"Unlike you, I won't wash everything until we leave but knowing Brandon, he'll probably throw his clothes in right away when we get back to Oakville. I've got the time."
I nodded my head, moving to my backpack as I let him continue to organize my laundry. I wasn't sure if I'd stuck any dirty laundry in the bag. The two of us worked in silent until footsteps came pounding up the stairs.
"Ashlyn," Brandon stood in the open doorway with a cell phone in his hand, "it's Mack Carrey. He wants to speak with you."
I exchanged a look with James, eyebrows raised. Mack Carrey was a Stray from Saskatchewan. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him, as he usually kept off the radar. I slowly nodded, taking the phone from Brandon's hand. Brandon took a seat on my bed as James stood next to me, arms crossed.
"This is Ashlyn Flanagan."
"What a formal introduction. Hello, Ashlyn, it's Mack Carrey but I can assume young Brandon has already told you that," the voice on the other end was confident. I could imagine a man leaning back in a large leather chair, ankle draped across his other knee. It felt very spy movie villain.
"How can I help you?" I asked, my eyes moving between the werewolves in the room as I sat in my desk chair. I turned the speaker on as Mack Carrey began to speak again.
"I'd like to propose a meeting between you and me. I would like to discuss my living situation. As I understand, you're the most approachable member of your family."
James and I made eye contact, and he shook his head slowly.
"I think that could be arranged," I responded, maintaining eye contact with James. His face hardened, giving a look as if I'd lost my mind.
"Good. I knew contacting you would be the best idea," I could hear the smile on Mack's voice.
"What's the information regarding where we'll be meeting?" I asked.
"Don't you need to ask Charlie's permission before meeting with anyone?" Brandon's voice sounded panicked as I handed his phone back.
"I'm going to talk to my father and tell him what's going on but no, I don't need permission. This is just a conversation," I answered him, "both of you out so I can call Charlie without your eyes staring at me. He's at work right now."
I began closing the door, but James looked back at me.
"Let me know what your dad says. I want to stay up to date."
I nodded my head, closing the door. Moving to the window overlooking the backyard, I dialled my father. Once Charlie picked up, I told him about the phone call.
"As long as it's just to hear what Carrey has to say," he said, "Carrey should know well enough not to ask you for any decision making. If he tries anything, shut it down and leave. If he has any demands, tell him to call me."
"Glad we're on the same page."
"You'll be taking James with you?" my father asked.
I tapped my finger on the windowsill, "I don't know if James should come with me. I think Scott or Kurtis would be a better choice."
Charlie was silent for a second. I knew he wasn't expecting me to suggest someone else as my backup.
"You don't want James to come?"
"It's not that I don't want James to come with me. I-I just think Kurtis and Scott would be a lot better. I don't think James will handle it well if Mack Carrey tried to man-handle the situation. It would get too fuelled by testosterone."
"I'll think about it," Charlie responded.
After hanging up, I grabbed my laundry and put the piles into the bin. Walking down to the basement, the house was stirring, and everyone was awake. Tempted by the smell of bacon, I took a detour into the kitchen.
"Want to do my laundry too?" Kurtis asked, around a mouthful of his breakfast sandwich. I snorted, dropping the basket on the kitchen table.
"I don't even want to do my own laundry, so no."
I reached across the counter, trying to grab the sandwich out of Kurtis's hands. He took a step back but seemed to forget the other half of the sandwich sitting on the counter. The man's jaw dropped slightly open as I took a bite.
"Really?"
"Don't cry, I'll make you something later," I told him, "I'm hungry."
Chrissy and Drew entered the kitchen as Kurtis mumbled under his breath. Both had been awake long enough to get dressed, though Drew looked fancy.
"Where are you going, mister? Or do I call you sir?" I said with a half-smile, leaning on the counter. My twin adjusted the buttons on his cuffs.
"I've got an interview to survey national parks on a provincial level. It's just a summer job but I'd like to make a good impression."
I glanced down at the sandwich in my hand. Drew hadn't mentioned to me that he was applying for summer jobs. It made me feel uncomfortable that my twin brother was moving farther away. I had a little feeling of abandonment in my heart.
"So, who stole who's food?" Chrissy asked, taking a bit from my half of the sandwich. I chuckled around the food in my mouth Kurtis sent her a glare for helping eat his sandwich.
"Who do you think?" Kurtis grumbled. Chrissy snorted, taking a step back and covering her mouth stopping crumbs from flying out.
"You told Charlie you don't want me to come?" James stated as he entered the kitchen. Chrissy and Drew stepped out of his way as James stopped abruptly in front of me. I put the last mouthful in my mouth, giving myself a moment to think of an answer. James was furious. Kurtis cleared his throat, stepping around the island.
"I think I'm just going to go over here," Kurtis mumbled, opening the backdoor.
"Seems like a good idea," Drew agreed putting his hand on Chrissy's lower back, leading her outside.
I crossed my arms, leaning against the kitchen island. James waited until the backdoor was shut before he began to speak.
"Do you understand how a Pack works? We stick together and we risk our asses for each other. You and I have worked side by side since we were kids. What possessed you to tell Charlie you don't think I should be there as your backup?"
"I think you have the potential for turning this into a confrontational situation. Think about it. You've just seen your father for the first time in fifteen years with no warning. Two of our Pack members were murdered, which you haven't taken well by the way. I don't know how you'll handle it if Carrey becomes condescending and attempts to belittle me because I'm a young female. I just think Kurtis or Scott would be a better backup for me. They're better at keeping their opinions under control," I explained.
My explanation didn't do anything to make him feel better.
"I'm an adult. I know how to hold myself together."
"Do you? Because you have a talent for saying things that cause a problem. Usually I have to clean it up. I think it's a better idea if you stay here," I stepped up and placed my hands on his crossed arms, attempting to be reassuring. James stepped back, my hands dropping.
"You're full of shit."
My jaw dropped, "are you accusing me of lying?"
"I'm not accusing you of lying, I'm just accusing you of being an asshole."
I scoffed and left the kitchen with my laundry basket in my arms, doing my best not to become angry by James's reaction. I'd been in this situation before. I knew James better than he did sometimes. He wanted to be less aggressive but if it came down to it, he would attack if he felt he needed to. My ears twitched at the sound of his footsteps thudding after me. I spun on him.
"Can you go do something else? I don't exactly want to spend time with you and get yelled at right now."
"No, I'm not going to leave you alone because this is ridiculous! You did something that makes no sense. How does telling Charlie to keep me home make any sense?" James stopped close to me.
I shoved him backwards with one hand, "you're taking this too personally. Go away, you're really testing my patience and I'd like to do my laundry in peace."
"You're acting like a child; do you know that?" James said, scoffing. I ran my tongue along the front of my teeth. I reached in my laundry bin and grabbed a handful of clothes.
"No," I said, "this is me being a child."
I chucked the clothing at his head, smacking him right in the face. When the clothes hit the floor, James' face showed he was debating if he should laugh or get even more pissed.
"Fine," James said, leaving me at the staircase.
I let out the breath I'd been holding in. I felt the two potential reactions simmering in me. I heard the back door open and shut.
***
I sat behind my father's desk, scrolling through the next semester's course outlines on his desktop. Enjoying the peace of my father's office, I noted the important information on the notepad beside me.
That peace disappeared when the door opened, and Brandon came in.
"What are you doing?" he asked, pouring two glasses of bourbon from my father's mini bar.
"School stuff." I said, absentmindedly taking the glass. Brandon sat in the guest chair across the desk from me. He took a large mouthful of bourbon and swished it around in his mouth. Swallowing it, he leaned back in the chair with a loud sigh.
"What are you doing?" I glanced up at him.
Brandon shrugged, "I'm just bored. Everyone's doing something. Your brother won't let me sit in his room while he video-chats some girl."
I snorted, not really caring which brother he was talking about. Brandon's head leaning against the back of the chair. I placed my glass on the desk, letting my hand rest against it.
"And what does it look like I'm doing? Tying my shoes?"
Brandon snorted, "nothing important, therefore you can occupy my time."
I rolled my eyes and went back to the screen. After a moment, Brandon reached forward and snatched my glass.
"Since you aren't drinking it," he muttered.
"It's two in the afternoon, alcoholic," I mumbled. Brandon flipped me off while drinking from the glass.
"I didn't know my office had been turned into a bar," my father entered his office, a stack of papers in his arms. I smirked, clicking to the next web page. Pushing my notepad aside, Charlie dropped the papers on his desk. Glancing down, I saw 'Mack Carrey' written on the edge of the top folder.
"What are these?" I asked, opening the top folder.
"I want you to look through these folders. Get a feel for who you'll be meeting with," Charlie explained, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
I was scanning over Carrey's family history of werewolves when James came into the office. We made brief eye contact, but I straightened my posture, turning to the computer screen. Even though I had twenty-four hours to get over the spat that James and I had yesterday morning, I was still annoyed enough that looking at his face tempted me to throw things.
"Why's he here?" I asked, looking down at a police report. James sat down on the second guest chair. Charlie cleared his throat, flipping through the files.
"I've decided James will be coming with you to the meeting, despite your loud and distracting argument yesterday morning in the kitchen," I rolled my eyes at the comment. Someone obviously told him, "you're both too stubborn to fix this by yourselves, so I'm doing it for you," Charlie handing Brandon a file, "Brandon is going with you too, in case Ashlyn pushes James out of the car while it's moving."
Brandon snorted, "great, I love being the backup to the backup. Makes me feel great."
James snatched the file out of my hand.
"I wasn't done with that," I said, taking it back before he could get comfortable in his seat. James picked up another file, smirking as he opened it. I bit my teeth together, taking a deep breath. Like he often did after we bickered, James was trying to rile me up.
"You two need to work things out by getting physical, if you know what I mean," Brandon suggested, looking into his alcohol. Charlie uncomfortably cleared his throat and picked up the last file.
"Alright," Charlie flipped a few pages, "I want to start with Carrey's family tree."
For the next two hours, Charlie talked about Mack Carrey and his history. We learned about the DUIs, the bar fights, the buffoonery. The lack of relationship with his mother, something common for a lot of werewolves, and the death of his father when a young werewolf needed a parent. When his great-grandfather went to fight in the war and came back, having made his mind up to leave the Pack. It was burned into my brain.
"So," Brandon said around a mouthful of cereal, "what's the point of all this? We don't know what this guy wants."
"Exactly, we don't know what he wants. Meaning, you need to be ready for whatever his reason is," my dad explained. James casually reached into his pocket and pulled out the switch blade I'd gotten him for his last birthday. Flicking it open, James twirled it around in his hand.
"What if this meeting goes sideways?"
My father pointed at the knife, "you've been trained to anticipate this meeting not to go well. All three of you have. That's the other reason I'm sending you together. You've been training together for years. It's as if I sent Ashlyn and Drew together," Charlie paused, "if Drew were a fighter or good at negotiating."
I snorted, "basically if Drew were any good at being a werewolf?"
Charlie made no response, but I knew I was right from the snort Brandon let out.
"You know you sound like the mentor in a coming-of-age action movie, right?" I commented in a quieter voice. Charlie glanced at me as he opened the top drawer of his desk. I shot back a loving grin. Shuffling some papers around, he placed a handgun on top of the stack of files. My eyes widened a little at the weapon. I didn't know it'd been in the desk.
"I want you to take this with you. James has had enough practice. I have confidence of him carrying it," I opened my mouth to complain, "yes, I know you've shot a weapon before."
Taking my eyes off the gun, I could see the worry written plainly on Charlie's face. He was more concerned about this meeting than he was letting on with his voice.