Page 8 of Wolf Found

What? He was a stress eater.

He was also a stress runner, so he suspected his usual post-army five miles a day would be doubled or tripled in the morning. His father would say that defined him. When under stress, Ash ran.

He reached into the nearest bag and pulled out the top container: egg rolls. Perfect.

By the time he got home, he’d eaten all three. Good thing he’d ordered at least nine more, or he’d never hear the end of it from Sawyer.

Or, well, maybe tonight of all nights, Sawyer wouldn’t complain.

The second he walked into the house, he knew something was wrong.

Sawyer was standing in the kitchen, pouring a glass of orange juice. Except Sawyer didn’t usually drink the juice. He held it up and nodded to Ash.

“Not gonna lie,” he said, “I kinda wish you were a hard liquor guy, because it seems like a more sensible choice right now.” Then he sniffed the air. “Did you leave me some egg rolls?”

Ash shrugged, like they weren’t right on top of the bag in his left arm.

Sawyer came over and took one of the bags out of Ash’s hands. “Okay, don’t freak out, but we think we’ve figured out what they meant with all that crap. Or, like, kinda figured it out?”

Kinda? How did one “kinda” find out what accusations of pedophilia meant?

Without explaining, Sawyer turned and headed for the den.

Sawyer hadn’t needed to explain, because sitting in the middle of the pack’s huge, u-shaped black sofa were three strangers. Well, two strangers and a baby. Good lord, his father didn’t think...

Ash caught a whiff of chocolate chip cookies and almost started drooling, despite himself, and despite the three egg rolls he’d already polished off. Chocolate chip had always been his favorite, boring as they were.

He realized he’d closed his eyes and opened them to find the brightest mint green ones he’d ever seen in his life. It was such an unusual color—Ash knew those eyes. They’d belonged to a sweet, gangly kid who’d helped him with wood chopping during his last summer at the enclave. For unending hours, the boy had run and grabbed the next block, then darted in to take the finished split logs away and stack them neatly against the wall.

Ten, his father had said, and that might have been a good estimation. But Ash hadn’t even known the kid’s name. He sure as hell hadn’t—

The man stood, in such a rush that raven black hair fell over one eye. He brushed it back nervously. “Ash. Asher. Um, Mr. Martin—”

“Ash is fine,” Dez interrupted, reaching out to bump him with his cane. “Everybody calls him Ash.”

Those sweet hopeful eyes did not belong to a kid now. He was nervous, sure, but he was most definitely a man. He had broad shoulders, narrow hips, and he was tall—taller than any omega Ash had ever met before, but he was surely that. The sweet scent of omega clung to him, and it wasn’t just from his...

Girlfriend. He’d arrived with a woman and a baby. Ash needed to get himself under control, or he’d make his father right without even thinking about it. The man had come to them with a woman and baby for help. He didn’t need Ash sexualizing him now, even if, unlike his father’s disgusting assumptions, the notion had never crossed his mind back then.

He’d just been grateful for the help.

“Graham,” he remembered aloud. That was what Joey had said too.Your son didn’t even know Graham. But Ash had known him.

“Got it in one,” Dez agreed. “I take it this is the poor, innocent victim of your inappropriateness?”

Graham smiled like the sun had come out, and it transformed his whole face. He was adorable anyway, but when he smiled... those dimples. “You remember me?”

Girlfriend, Ash’s brain reminded him. Girlfriend and baby.

Gavin came up alongside Ash and took one of the remaining bags of food. “Clearly so, but he can remember you while we eat. I hope you brought enough for everyone.”

Ash nodded and, with just the one bag, turned to round the couch. “Best helper ever. Seriously. All the other kids your age were off in the orchard, playing, and there you were, day after day, helping me with the most boring chore known to man.”

As was his habit, Ash sat on the plush carpet between the fire and the coffee table they ate from. Graham stared in shock as he sat down, and it occurred to him that just that one motion had smashed any image Graham had of him being a big strong alpha.

Back at the enclave, the alpha’s dinner table was on a raised dais, and his chair had legs at least four inches longer than anyone else’s. They’d even had to replace it with a higher one when Ash had his growth spurt at fifteen. No one ever sat above the Martingale alpha, not even his heir.

“We’re not about that here.” He waved to Sawyer, half draped across Dez and eating egg rolls straight from the container, then Gavin, who lounged back against the far arm of the couch, feet up and in the middle of opening his container of coconut shrimp.

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