Damn school anyway.
Jesse dumped the supper dishes in the sink with more violence than he intended; one of the plates cracked in three.
Somehow that fit his mood. Swearing fluently, he fished the pieces out from under the other plates and dropped them in the garbage.
I am not washing these god-damned dishes right now! If they're still here when I get a minute, which they probably will be, then we'll see. He rummaged in the cupboard for dishes for leftovers, turned back to the table to toss the rest of the spaghetti noodles in one and the sauce in the other. Both he deposited in the fridge hard enough to shake the shelves.
It wasn't that he was angry over seeing so little of his friends; he remembered his own high school exams before he'd run away and sympathized with the stress, and surely college was worse. Nor was he angry that his four housemates had come home, found to their relief that he had supper ready, eaten quickly, and scattered again to studying and evening classes; that was why he'd done it, to save them the hassle. He didn't really mind working a lot for Sam, to give her the study time for the classes she was taking, he liked spending time there, or doing extra hours for Tomas at the Brewery to take up the slack for Sonja who was dealing with January exams, it was interesting meeting people. In the six, almost seven, months he'd been living in Haven full-time, both jobs had come to mean a lot to him, and his friends certainly did. He didn't mind taking over virtually all the care of Cynthia's young white-footed, white-chested black cat Hob, a gift last summer from Sam; Hob was actually quite appreciative. He could understand Caitryn's sudden absence from his bed; she'd made it very clear that sex between packmates wasn't considered to involve any particular strings, only meeting mutual needs, and besides, he had no reason to think she wouldn't go back to showing up a couple of nights a week again once everything calmed down. Anyway, Cait was a considerate and creative lover, but she was also enthusiastic, and he wasn't sure he'd have the energy to keep up right now. And, okay, so there was no time for the pack to play and hunt and run together.
All that he could handle, maybe not happily, but resignedly, and waiting for exams to end and things to go back to normal—down to more reasonable work hours, and generally enjoying life with his friends, and continuing to learn all the countless things about Haven life that he still didn't know.
What was frustrating him was completely irrational. It was all little things. Like at supper. Not once had any of the other four said anything not purely functional—pass the butter, Jess?—or comparing notes about, what else, exams. Not a word that indicated that they were really aware of his presence, and barely an absent-minded thanks from Deanna before they left. Little things like no one seeming at all to realize the effort he was making to help.
Come on, Jess, these people saved your ass and they've given you a decent life, which you were sure you'd never have. Aren't you being just a bit touchy?
No, damn it! It wouldn't have cost them anything tonight to talk about something else for a little while! At least Sam checks in once in a while that I'm okay. All Tomas says is, Jess, can you work Tuesday night, I need you.
Damn it all, people, I'm still here!
Feeling the urge to hit something, but refraining, he wiped the table off, threw the rag in the sink, and left for work. His usual way, running four-footed along the road—it wasn't a problem wearing just his magesilks to work, if he so chose.
“You're late,” Tomas greeted him mildly. No scent of anger, only distraction, impatience.
“Huh? It's ten to seven.”
“Jess, Claudia had to take today off. I asked you yesterday...”
The memory finally registered. “To be here for five-thirty. Shit. I'm sorry. Would you believe I forgot?” Oh, that sounded wonderful.
“Figured it was something like that. When I called it was busy.”
“One of the phones is probably off the hook.” This was the finishing touch to his black mood.
“Everyone makes the odd mistake. I'm not going to throw fits over it. Just please, Jess, I really need to be able to count on you right now...”
“Won't happen again. I promise.”
“Go on.”
“Where have you been?” Nyssa demanded, meeting him between tables. “Here, take this to sixteen.” She shoved a laden tray into his hands, and swirled away.
The pace began to pick up within the hour, leaving him with no time to indulge himself in frustrated thoughts.
A tall redheaded woman sauntered in, and sat down near the back, well into his territory. He debated begging Nyssa to take care of her anyway—he'd met her once before and though she'd been civil enough, he'd found it a less than comfortable experience given that she'd nearly killed him—but decided not to push his luck.
“What can I get you?” he asked her.
“Just a drink. Bloody Mary.”
“Sure thing.” Why did that choice not surprise him? He passed on the order to Tomas, took care of another, got it and brought it to her. “Give me a yell if you need anything else.”
“Something bothering you, Jesse? You smell a bit off tonight. Things turned sour in paradise?”
“Rebecca,” he said tightly, choosing his words carefully, “with all due respect, what goes on in my life is my business, not yours, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd remember that.”
“All due respect. I like that.”
“I really need to take care of some other tables. Excuse me.” No way was he going to let her see what it cost him to stay in control, when everything in him screamed for a fight to release all the tension locked tight in his guts.
She ordered wolf-style steak the next time he came by, but she said nothing else out of line; he served her with as few words as possible and tried to stay away as best he could. She left him an oddly large tip, which puzzled him; why had she done that?
He worked late, until one, so Nyssa could leave early. He could think of no other way to make up for leaving her alone for an hour and a half earlier.
Kevin's light was still on when he got home and upstairs, having paused on the way only long enough to feed Hob in the kitchen. He brushed through the half-open door to turn it off. Probably Kevin had fallen asleep like a couple of nights before, sprawled on his bed with his books.
But Kevin was still up, and didn't even notice him.
“It's past one. Maybe you should go to bed.”
“Mmhmm.” Distractedly. “As soon as I finish this chapter.”
Maybe Kevin would have some insight into what Rebecca was thinking with the strangely generous tip. “Kev?”
“In a minute, Jess. I really have to figure this out. Why don't you go get ready for bed, and once I get through this I'll come over?”
That was fair, he had to concede. He left his magesilks across the afghan-draped wooden chest that now occupied the space at the foot of the bed—found in one of the still-empty rooms and refinished, it had gone to him for storage as his actual possessions increased. Still feeling not quite clean after his encounter with Rebecca, he had a quick shower and nestled into bed, head on his arm, waiting. Hob hopped up to join him for some attention, but wandered off, possibly after the elusive kitchen mice.
At two o'clock he gave up, and turned the lamp off. For as long as he was still awake, he could see the light from Kevin's room.
By morning, the blankets were tangled around him, one on the floor, and two of his pillows on it, and a new bruise showed on one arm that he thought was from the head of the bed. Vivid nightmares lingered in his mind, something involving Rebecca and his adopted parents and Shaine and his real parents. And, for once, Kevin hadn't intervened and banished them.
He tried to concentrate on working; there was always something that needed doing at Sam's. Making sure the shelves were well-stocked didn't help, though, it only kept his hands busy and let his mind dwell on how much he hated everything right now.
The bell on the door chimed softly. Relieved, he straightened and turned to see who.
She was vaguely familiar but he couldn't place her at all, which surprised him; between his two jobs he thought he could recognize most of Haven on sight, even if not by name. She looked a little older than him, not as striking or exotic as so much of Haven seemed to be, but not unattractive either. Short brown hair, medium build, a faintly Asian cast to her features... and smiling at him shyly.
“What can I do for you?”
She looked down, bashfully. “I've been trying to find the courage to say this. Would you like to maybe do something some night? I mean, just... supper or something.”
“I don't see why not, except that I don't know how much free time I have right now.”
“Everybody's busy, I know. I'm lucky, I only took two classes this semester and one doesn't have an exam. I've seen... you've been working an awful lot. It isn't very fair for everyone to dump everything on you.”
He shrugged. “It'll stop soon. I have to work tonight, but not tomorrow night.” Yet. So I'll just say no if Tomas asks me at the last minute. I'm allowed to have a life, damn it.
Smiling, she raised her eyes, not quite to his. “That'd be nice. Maybe... you could come over and I'll make supper...?”
“Sure. When and where? And I'll bring dessert.” That evil chocolate cake Kev taught me how to make. “Do you like chocolate?”
“Who doesn't? Around six?” She gave him directions to the house. “I'll talk my coven-mates into leaving for a while. Some will be out anyway.”
“Tomorrow at six it is. Hey. I don't even know who you are.”
She blushed. “Sorry. I'm Avryl. I know who you are.”
By her scent, human and witch. Something about it was vaguely familiar; he must've run into her at some point and just couldn't place it.
“I have to go,” she said. “I have some things to do.”
Jess bid her farewell, and went back to stocking shelves, happier now. At least one person in Haven knew he existed!
* * *
He had to stay two-footed to carry the cake, which meant it took him longer to get to her house after he finished his hours at Sam's. He found it easily enough, though, and knocked on the door.
It was opened by a male elf—not a mage, mages had a distinctly different scent—who greeted him amiably and invited him. The first, overwhelming impression was of how clean everything was, the scent of the natural cleaners common in Haven and the gentle scents of cooking and a mild herbal air freshener washing out even the scents of the residents, not a trace of clutter or disorganization in sight.
“Avryl's in the kitchen, I was just leaving. Have fun.” The elf took a jacket from the nearby closet, and departed.
Avryl appeared at the other end of the hall while he took off his wet boots. “Jesse? Oh. Hi.” Her gaze dropped again, and she coloured just enough that he could see it. “It's nearly done.”
“There's no hurry. I came for the company, not the food.”
That made her smile. “That's dessert? Here, I'll take it...”
He went with her to the kitchen. The delicious food-scents he'd picked up from the hall were stronger here. “Smells wonderful.”
“High flattery, from a wolf.”
It was a pleasant evening: they had supper, talked about music and movies and similar sorts of things—none of them the sorts of topics that sent him into defensive mode. She was delighted by the cake, which they had in the living room while listening to the stereo; he helped her with the dishes, despite her insistence that it wasn't necessary. Afterwards, they returned to the warm cosy living room.
Why wasn't he surprised that no one even noticed when he came home late that evening?