Jared strolled in the front door of the safehouse. The great room was bustling with people he didn’t know, and the scent of dinner lingered in the air even though the dining room had been cleared out. He didn’t see his brothers among the meandering and chattering temporary residents of his home, but he caught a glimpse of his mother’s long gray hair as she disappeared into the kitchen.
He strode after her. She had three shifters on kitchen duty, cleaning up the massive pile of dishes left over from the evening’s meal. They weren’t letting her lift a finger and had set up some kind of production line to get the job done, but she was definitely in charge.
“That bowl goes on the top shelf, Owen,” she said. Owen was ex-military, one of Jace’s brothers-in-arms, and he’d been a prisoner of Agent Smith’s for over a year. The guy looked like shit when they first rescued him, a few days ago, but some of the black circles under his eyes had already started to disappear with Mama River’s good cooking and attentive care. She mothered everyone, whether they needed it or not… but most of them did.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Owen said with a small smile and a nod for Jared behind her. Owen quickly stowed the bowl on the top shelf and returned to his station at the end of the production line of washing, drying, and putting away the dishes.
Jared’s mother turned to him. “You missed dinner.” Her small scowl was more a concern that he hadn’t eaten at all, not that he had missed her particular spread that night. His mother could support the 10th Mountain Division on KP duty, if she had to. One missing shifter from the table wouldn’t alarm her.
He stepped forward and dropped a quick kiss on her cheek. She startled, eyes wide, and he smiled as a blush crept up on her cheeks.
“Don’t think that’s going to earn you forgiveness.” But her voice faltered a little.
He just grinned wider—he hadn’t done anything like that in forever. But a painfully wrenching sense of hope and life stirred inside him, and it was no mystery why—Grace had brought him back, almost literally, from the dead.
“You could put me on KP duty as punishment,” he suggested.
His smile was still throwing her. “Shut up and sit down,” she ordered, gesturing to the small table in the corner of the kitchen. “I’ll rustle up some leftovers.” She swept toward the massive refrigerator where she kept her supplies to feed the hungry hordes.
He could tell she wanted to say something, but there were way too many people present. Fellow shifters, but still strangers. Not even pack, much less family. She dug around in the refrigerator and came out with bread, an assortment of sandwich meats, and condiments. He relieved her of the jumbled mix and carried them to the table.
She turned to her KP detail. “You can just leave the rest of that.” She waved them away from the sink.
Owen frowned. “We’re not letting you touch a bit of this mess, Mama River. You best get used to that.” His Texas drawl was no match for his mama’s will.
Jared took a seat at the table and just folded his hands behind his head to watch.
His mother parked her delicate hands on her hips and gave Owen her patented glare. “Private First Class Owen Harding, I need you to clear the room, soldier. You can finish kitchen duty when I’m good and ready for you to.”
The other shifters turned to send a questioning look her way. Owen hiked up his eyebrows, but then glanced at Jared and seemed to figure it out.
“You heard the lady,” Owen said barked to the others. “Clear out.” As the lot of them trotted out of the room, Owen said quietly as he passed her, “You touch any of those dishes, Mama River, and we’re going to have a talk about the proper meaning of gratitude.”
She shook her finger at him on his way out. “Don’t you sass me, Owen Harding. You haven’t earned that privilege yet.”
He just grinned as he left the room.
His mother came and sat with him. “Jared Anthony River, you tell me right now what’s happened.”
“I thought you wanted me to eat,” he teased, gesturing to all the sandwich fixings.
“This is the one time you can eat while talking at the same time.” Her serious expression didn’t waver.
He shook his head, rueful that a couple smiles and a kiss on the cheek was grounds for this level of concern in his mother. He’d been way too deep in his own head for too long. The toll it had taken on his family was becoming painfully obvious.
“I’m good, Mama,” he said softly. “I know I’ve been… distant. Hell, let’s just say it—I’ve been broken. I know that’s worried you, and I’m sorry for that.”