Page 34 of Entering a New World

With that, he left me sitting at the table and walked back behind the counter to deal with customers.

The afternoon rush was in full swing, with the coffee shop—or was it more of a bakery?—filled to the brim, the line almost reaching the door.

Taking a deep breath, I let the familiar atmosphere wash over me. The faint scent of coffee, vanilla, caramel, and chocolate, mixed with all the delicious treats Herbert provided. People chatting, phones chiming, feet shuffling, the register dinging every minute.

It was busy, hectic even, yet my pulse calmed down the more I listened to the noise around me.

Sipping my water, I curiously eyed my plate, and my stomach grumbled loudly. Everything looked so fucking good and I didn’t have a clue what to try first. The childish part of me wanted to just take one bite out of everything, just to have tried it all, but the more mature and, fortunately, bigger part of my brain knew that was the wrong thing to do.

So, I finally chose a Nanaimo bar and took a big bite out of it. As the different flavours hit my tongue, I had to suppress a groan. Nanaimo bars tasted amazing no matter what, but this one was… damn. Definitely better than the ones my mom made.

Taking another bite had my eyes rolling back at the creamy, crunchy and velvety texture that practically melted in my mouth.

“It looks like you’re thoroughly enjoying that pastry,” a voice said right next to me, making me flinch.

I opened my eyes, blinking a couple of times to focus, then turned my head towards the voice.

A guy about my age was nodding shyly at the rest of the bar in my hand. “What is that?”

“A Nanaimo bar,” I explained, then frowned. “You’re not from here, are you?”

The guy’s eyes flickered through the room, hands balling into fists, but I still saw them shaking.

Fuck.

Looked like I’d struck a nerve.

“I…” he started, eyes shifting towards the crowd, then back to me. “No,” he finally whispered, as if he was letting me in on some kind of huge secret. “No, I’m… new to the area.”

He had to be in order to not know one of British Columbia’s most famous treats.

“Well, you should definitely try one, then.”

Biting his lip again, the guy nodded. “Maybe,” he said, eyes darting through the room again, as if searching for something. It gave me the opportunity to study him a little closer.

He was maybe a couple years older, but definitely not older than mid-twenties, and he was even thinner than I was, a little taller, and dressed in all black, from head to toe, which made his pale skin and silvery-white hair stand out like a sore thumb.

He’s missing a coat, I realized upon closer inspection of him. He was wearing a hoodie and jeans, but no coat. And his jeans looked like they were hanging on by a thread—literally speaking. The knees weren’t just torn; they were shredded to pieces, but not in a purposeful, artful way. It rather looked like he’d taken a fall or two. Even his hoodie had a few small holes in them, and his hair… yeah, it’d definitely seen better days. Whatever haircut he’d had was long overgrown, and his hair desperately needed a wash.

Was he homeless?

Did Balwood have a homeless population?

I almost couldn’t imagine it had. Certainly, the pack would’ve done something about that, right?

But maybe… if he was new in town, no one knew.

And if he wasn’t a shifter… the pack probably didn’t care, did they?

My mind was already starting to spin again, the faint throbbing sensation returning to my temples, so I made a mental note to ask Rhett… no, Mave!... about it later.

Why was my first impulse to ask Rhett?

Sighing, I shifted my attention back to the guy still standing next to me. He was looking at me funny, like he was expecting me to say something specific, or maybe like he wanted to ask me something specific, so even though I had no idea what he could possibly want me to ask, I nodded towards the chair opposite of me.

Maybe he was part of the pack after all.

I’d had quite a few people coming up to me to ask me how I was feeling while I’d been exploring the town.

---