Chapter 2
Louis POV
Every year, Thanksgiving meal was held at the pack house. For as long as I can remember, my mother has been in charge of ensuring that dinner is prepared. The pack house is crowded and bustling with activity in the days leading up to the holiday.
The feast is mostly prepared by Omegas, who also decorate the house. We don't volunteer because we're treated differently or because we're forced to. We volunteer because that's who volunteers. Omegas get a sense of accomplishment from doing things for their pack when they do things like this. We abhor violence and conflict, so we leave border patrol and anything else that requires fighting or muscle to the other pack members.
Mom doesn't get home until early the day before Thanksgiving to make sure everyone is dressed appropriately. Melvin is usually sent back up to his room to change. Jeans and flannel shirts are my older brother's idea of casual formal. That's pretty much what he wears on a daily basis. I once overheard mom praying to the Goddess to bless him with a Mate who would shop for him. I'm sure she's just praying for a Mate in general at this point.
Melvin is now twenty-three years old, and after five years without a Mate, he's given up. He's an outcast, and unlike me, he chooses to be that way.
Melvin, like most unmated wolves, could have moved into the pack house, but he decided to stay at home. Even if mum has a habit of nagging. He justified his decision by stating that it is calm.
I'm very sure if I don't find my friend, I'll be staying at home as well. It's not that I don't like being around other people; it's that they don't like being around me.
Mom tapped her foot anxiously as she waited by the entrance, dusting off dad's shirt. Her hair was down in lovely red curls and she wore an emerald green dress that dipped just past her knees. When Dad stated she looked wonderful, her face had become a brilliant crimson. She slapped his arm and straightened his collar instead of thanking him. Mom is a naturally attractive woman, but she rarely dresses up. She wears her chef outfit with her hair in a sloppy bun the majority of the time.
Melvin's heavy footsteps could be heard as he descended the stairs, dressed in khaki pants and an ironed button down. This year, Mom had planned ahead and had the clothing ready for him. He sported a frown beneath his long beard and appeared uneasy. I was envious because I couldn't even get a single hair on my chin to grow.
"As you can see, you've improved your appearance. Let's get started!" Mom hurried us out the door.
"I have the appearance of a Mormon." As he slid into the backseat with me, Melvin groaned. Even though he didn't. He appeared to be the same as any other higher-ranking wolf, albeit twice my size in muscle.
I cast a self-conscious glance down at myself and slipped on my blue sweater. This year, I was able to wear my Converse because my mother doesn't care what I wear. By the end of the night, something is generally spilled on me.
"Wait!" Mom cursed as she got into the front seat after hearing me yell.
"I completely forgot about my apple pie." I didn't mean to offend you.
"Don't scare me like that; I was expecting something significant." Mom let out a sigh.
"But—"
"There'll be plenty of pie there, Sweetie." Before telling dad how many beers he could have, Mom said.
I sat in the backseat, pouting and staring out the window. Since I was twelve years old, I've prepared an apple pie every year. With Mom at the pack home, I always had the kitchen to myself, and everything was calm. Every year, I'd bring my pie and place it among the many others, and every year, it'd be the first one eaten Jason Williams. I don't know how I could have forgotten about that.
Dad had to park the SUV alongside a slew of other vehicles on the side of the road. Because there was a monthly pack meet, we were all used to such a large gathering. On holidays, the crowd just seemed to be bigger, and it was. I was curious as to whether the Alpha had invited anyone this year.
Last year, he had invited another Alpha family, this time with a small puppy that liked to play with blades. He had an odd demeanor.
"Now," Mom remarked once we'd all exited the vehicle. Melvin and I exchanged glances after hearing this speech every year.
"I don't mind if you go hang out with the other puppies your age, but I want you both to remember who raised you." She said, largely to me, firmly. It was a pitcher of sweet tea last year, and the urn housing Luna's grandfather the year before that. That was a dreadful year.
After entering the house and respectfully welcoming the Alpha Pair, mom whisked dad away to greet the rest of the family and guests, while Melvin proceeded into the den to watch the game. I paused by the entrance, peering into a crowded room filled with males shouting at the television and pushing each other about. Melvin was the quietest man in the room, sitting alone in front of the television.
That was definitely a place to stay away from.
I skirted the older Wolves who were all standing around chatting and got it to the back deck since I knew where I was heading. Puppies were running about and playing in the back yard, and the teens were hanging out on the deck, as I had imagined.
I took a deep breath and rubbed my hand over my sweater before sliding open the glass door.
I didn't expect anyone to glance up from their fun banter, but I didn't expect them to. My gaze was drawn to Jason William's muscular back. He was dressed in navy blue slacks and a matching blazer, as he is every year. We're designed for one other, and we're even color coordinated unintentionally.
I put on a huge smile and headed over to where everyone was waiting, ignoring the frightened flutters in my stomach.
"Hi!" I mentally slapped myself for being overly happy. Before returning to their chats or phones, everyone looked up, indifferent.
"Ugh, hi, Louis," Jesper said something that made my sliding smile reappear. When he spoke my name, I was usually delighted. I stood there speechless in front of him, unsure of what to say. So, I knew what I wanted to say, or rather, what I didn't want to say. Of course, I wanted to drag him down to my level and kiss him! But it was not going to happen. At least not until—fingers crossed—my birthday.
"Look at you, runt, you haven't spilt anything yet," Bradon teased me by fiddling with the shirt collar under my sweater. My smile faded as I swatted his hands away. Bradon is a complete jerk. That's the basic word for Jason's best friend, the manipulative, spoiled jackass. I have no idea why. My earliest recollection of him is of him chasing me down with a bucket of mud and throwing it at me until I was completely coated. While she rinsed me down with the hose, I had to go home in tears and tell what had occurred to my mother.
"Come on, leave the kid alone, with a light laugh, Jason said. Before following my future Mate into the house, Bradon flicked my nose.
I sighed and looked about at everyone who seemed to be oblivious to my existence. Because there was nowhere to sit, I sat on the stairwell leading to the backyard and watched the dogs play. I'd only gotten to play like that after begging Melvin to join me, and it was only in the privacy of our own backyard.
It was pointless to try to chat to anyone else, so I sat there until the food was ready to be served. Because the group is too large to fit everyone in one room, the meal is served buffet-style.
Everyone was in a hurry to get to the food, and the inevitable happened. A puppy raced by me, colliding with my leg and throwing me against a table. When I rolled to get up, I rolled against the glass from a broken picture frame and felt small shards of glass cut into my side.
Fortunately, no one remained to make fun of me while the dinner was being prepared.
"Clean that up," Someone yelled, and I stood up go fetch a broom.
Everyone had a plate and was sitting around in various rooms with friends and family by the time I cleaned everything up. Mom was huffing at a female about the stuffing in the dining room, where the main table had been removed for the long tables carrying all the food.
Her gaze flitted to me, but she was mostly focused on the stuffing. Mom looked to me and moaned as the girl returned the platter to the kitchen.
"Are you serious, Louis?" She grumbled.
"Go fetch your father's car keys; I've put extra clothes in the trunk for you."
I finally saw the dark patch on the side of my sweatshirt as I looked down at myself. I hadn't even realized blood had seeped through.
When I found Dad, he was guzzling a beer with his relatives, apparently wanting to finish it before mum returned. He handed me the keys with a disapproving shake of his head, but I was used to it from him...well, from everyone.
Mom had not just one, but three extra sets of clothes in the trunk. It made me sad for some reason. Maybe it's because I'm well aware that no one expects much from me. Unless it's to break something or make a mess. I'll finally fit nowhere in the pack, not even the Omegas will accept me.
Perhaps I shouldn't be so excited about my birthday. If the Alpha decides to expel me, I'll be forced to live with humans because no other pack will accept me. I'm not helpful in any manner. I'm not very strong, nor am I particularly bright; at most, I'm average. I can't clean without making a greater mess, and I can't cook in front of others unless they want me to set fire to something.
Is there anything I'm particularly excellent at?
I sighed as I pulled up my shirts to discover that the cuts on my side were still gushing, indicating that glass was still in them. This couldn't possibly be a simple clothing swap.
When the deafening boom of an engine caused me to look up, I had just taken off my sweatshirt and buttoned up.
Cars weren't my thing, but I'd seen some of the shows my father watched, and the sleek black muscle car was unmistakably one of the vintage cars that people collect.
As it slowed and came to a stop alongside me, I held my shirt in front of my chest.