He launched into a long speech about how he knew he’d disappointed me and how he really did worry about me, not just the pack. I tried to be understanding, but didn’t bend much.
Finally, he came right out and asked what had happened to me that night. I answered vaguely claiming ignorance. They couldn’t tell lies as well over the phone. A long moment of silence passed. When he did speak, he didn’t comment on my answer, but instead asked me again to think about coming home over holiday break. I knew he meant the compound and told him I’d think about it.
After that, he continued to call me daily just to talk. Most of the brief conversations touched on weather, school or investments. Anything pack related stayed off limits. I could tell he was concerned, but trust, once lost, took longer to earn back. I wouldn’t tell him any of my suspicions until I could confirm some of them.
For the next few weeks, I focused on my studies while Rachel spent more time with Peter.
Clay stayed my constant companion, thanks to the lack of challenges, which dropped off after the Introduction. His expectations didn’t change after our kiss. He didn’t push for more, actually staying in his fur most of the time, except for Tuesday nights when he had dinner waiting for me. He cooked exceptionally well.
During the day, now that I knew about his job, he worked at Dave’s while I stayed on campus. I hadn’t given up on trying to figure out why he’d picked Dave’s for a job, but he always responded with a shrug to any questions I asked. I never asked him if he followed me to school as Luke suggested. Some things, I preferred to remain a mystery.
On one of our girl nights, Rachel asked about Clay-the-man while Clay-the-dog lay curled on the floor next to me. She sat in the chair going through her laundry.
“You are so weird about him. What is it about the guy that keeps you coming back?” She sat on the couch folding her summer clothes and packing them into a tote.
Smiling slightly, I turned the page of the book in my lap saying, “You don’t know him like I do.”
“How can you know him at all when you two don’t talk?”
“You don’t need to talk to get to know someone, you just need to listen,” I said absently trying to concentrate on my reading. My words rattled in my head for a moment before what I said clicked into place. I froze and looked at Clay. His brown eyes met mine steadily.
Damn the patient, clever dog. I never had a chance… A smile twitched my lips. And I didn’t mind.
“But that’s what I’m saying. He doesn’t talk. What are you listing to?”
I laughed at her and myself. “Actions speak louder than words,” I quoted, finally looking up from my book. “He’s there when I need him, he’s kind and caring, he keeps me safe, and as you’ve seen, cooks and cleans. What’s not to like Rachel?”
She grumbled under her breath, but didn’t have anything else to add.
Clay walked over by her and laid on some of her dresses ending her mutterings that I should get out and meet other people. She laughed at him then tried moving him. He laid his head on his paws and winked at me. He wasn’t mad, but enjoyed giving Rachel some grief.
Shaking my head, I went to the fridge, leaving Rachel to tug her dresses out from under his bulk on her own. In the fridge, I saw a new carton of orange juice along with a double-chocolate cake. Two layers of chocolate frosted goodness. My mouth watered.
“Can I have a piece of your cake?” I begged. I usually ignored the food she bought, but that one begged my attention.
“I thought it was yours. It was here when I got home,” she called back.
I stood staring at the cake a long time. How could I be so blind? He’d shrugged when I’d asked why he’d gotten his job, but the answer sat before my eyes wrapped in layers of sinful chocolate mousse frosting.
Thinking back, I identified several of the little things I’d previously overlooked. Things I’d assumed Rachel had purchased, like movies I’d mentioned wanting to see. He’d gotten his job for me because of my speech the day after we met. My heart melted a little thinking of all the effort he’d put into trying to be what I needed, and I knew I fought a losing battle.
The air grew colder and snow started to fall the week before Thanksgiving. The wind howled outside still finding a way past the new windows. Despite the low-set thermostat, the heat kicked in often, and I worried about the bill. Even with Clay warming my feet, I added another quilt to the bed.
Broke and out of quilts, I lay under the covers shivering. I wore two pairs of lounge pants, a t-shirt and a sweatshirt. If I could just fall asleep, I knew I’d warm eventually. During the night, I usually stripped to one layer. Warming the bed just took forever… on my own.
“Screw this,” I said sitting up and pulling off my sweatshirt. The streetlight filtered through the curtains, so I could make out the shapes in my room. I tossed the sweatshirt to the closet.