Will There Be Chocolate Chip Pancakes?
Will There Be Chocolate Chip Pancakes?
SAM
FIVE MONTHS, THIRTEEN DAYS, AND FOURTEEN HOURS AGO
S am was still in bed when his phone rang, even though he’d been awake for a few hours. “I thought I told you to never fucking call me again,” he answered, foregoing a greeting.
“Actually, you told me to walk off a cliff and make the world a better place,” Derek responded, his voice like nails on a chalkboard to Sam’s nerves.
Sam sighed heavily. “What do you want?” He was already exhausted, and it was only nine o’clock in the morning.
“Did you call the number I gave you?”
Sam massaged the ache in his temples. “That’s none of your business.”
“You did, didn’t you? You can’t fuck around with Cain. Whatever the terms of the loan were, he’ll expect you to pay up when and how he demands. You can’t get out of it. I know guys who’ve tried.”
Sam’s lip curled. “You’re the reason I’m in this mess in the first place, and you have the fucking audacity to give me advice ?”
Derek’s laugh was grating. “You can’t pin this all on me. Just do what he asks. I’d rather not be reporting on your murder, too.”
“I’m blocking your number. Don’t call me again.”
Sam hung up and chucked his phone down the foot of the bed. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
He blew out a huge breath and raked his fingers through his short hair, pulling at the ends. As much as Sam hated Derek for being the worst sort of spineless, slippery coward, he was right. This wasn’t his fault.
It was Sam’s.
One mistake. One slip-up on his worst day to the worst possible person, and Sam’s whole world had come crashing down.
“It’s going to be ok. It will be ok,” Sam whispered to himself, pulling in deep breaths.
He forced himself out of bed and into the shower, getting ready for the day. All the while, he repeated his plan over and over.
Sam would make back all the money he’d borrowed from this Cain guy. He just wouldn’t take a break from his audio work, like he’d planned. That was fine. After a few months, he’d have enough to repay him, and then he wouldn’t owe him anything. No favors, no debts.
Whatever the terms of the loan were, he’ll expect you to pay up when and how he demands. You can’t get out of it.
Derek’s words rang in Sam’s ears. Cain hadn’t seemed interested in his assurances that he’d have the money in a few months—all he’d asked for in return was a “favor”, to be called in on his terms.
But how the fuck would a favor from Sam be of any value to a man like Cain? The dude was clearly involved in organized crime of some flavor. He certainly wasn’t someone Sam, or anyone he knew, interacted with regularly.
Sam was a nobody, and he was certain Cain would take the money instead. He probably just hadn’t believed Sam when he’d said he’d be able to pay him back.
After that, his life could go back to normal. He’d try repairing things with Jaime. He’d let himself think more about the way Silas’ smile tugged at his ribs.
Everything would be fine.
Just as Sam finished dressing for the day, a truck rumbled to a stop outside his apartment. Peeking out the window, Sam saw Silas walking up the gravel path.
Sure enough, his stomach flip-flopped just like every other time Silas had come for his daily updates on Jaime’s security. Sam had tried to tell him he didn’t have to drive to Monroe every day, that a phone call would be fine, but for some reason, Silas had insisted.
Sam ran a hand through his quickly-drying hair, coaxing it to lay flat, and opened the front door. “Oaf,” he greeted, tipping his chin up to distract from the fact that he never knew where to put his hands when Silas was nearby.
Silas grinned down at him, fangs flashing. His smile never failed to take Sam’s breath away, twisting him up in knots. “Sammy, always good to see you staying away from the moose.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s too early for your terrible jokes,” he said, mostly to hide the way that nickname coming from Silas made him blush and feel a little off balance.
He wasn’t sure why Silas had only ever called him Sammy—maybe he’d heard it from Jaime? It’d been what his mom called him before she died. Honestly, had anyone else used it, he’d make sure they knew to never do it again, but coming from Silas it almost felt… familiar .
For the past few days, Sam had made him stand on the porch while he gave the update, but Derek’s phone call earlier had him feeling a bit raw, so Sam found himself saying, “Um, come inside,” without really thinking it through.
He stood back to let Silas in, the butterflies in his stomach taking flight when he walked past. He smelled like damp, freshly split firewood.
The way Silas’ gaze turned to drink up every detail in Sam’s small living room made him suddenly self-conscious. It was simply furnished, decorated with mementos and pictures of him, Jaime, and Alfie, scattered around to make it feel like home.
Thankfully all of his recording equipment was shoved away in his bedroom—that was not something he was prepared to explain.
Finished with his perusal, Silas faced him. “We haven’t heard anything new on Bishop in a few days, but—hey, are you alright?” he asked.
Sam blinked.
He’d thought he’d collected himself pretty well after speaking with Derek, but for some reason, the earnest way Silas was looking at him made him want to cry. Was he coming down with the flu?
“I’m fine. Why?” Sam asked, lifting his chin again.
Silas hummed and stepped toward him.
The small living room made him look even bigger than he already was; taking up all the space in Sam’s world. Silas sucked up the air around them both, stealing every bit of his attention. “You look like you should eat something. Want to get breakfast with me? There’s a place in Silver Rapids that has pancakes so good you’ll dream about them forever.”
Sam opened and closed his mouth.
He really shouldn’t. After the unmitigated disaster of meeting Derek and everything that’d happened afterward, he’d sworn off spending any sort of quality time with, well, anyone.
“I have a lot I need to work on today…” he said, avoiding eye contact.
Silas tipped his head, trying to catch Sam’s gaze. “Please? I’m starving. We can try calling Jaime and Finn again together, too, if you’d like.”
Sam’s eyes darted up to meet his. It’s not like this was a social outing, right? Silas hadn’t meant the invitation as a date; he was updating a client on work-related topics, that was all.
Surely their conversation wouldn’t stray beyond that? There’d be no reason for Sam to have to explain that the money he’d used to pay for Jaime’s security had been a loan from some creep or to talk about Derek at all.
Maybe it would be nice to take his mind off things and have a normal conversation with someone. Still…
Sam grimaced. “I don’t think Jaime wants to hear from me.”
Silas’ face softened. “You love him very much. And he loves you. Give it time; you’ll mend your fences.”
That warm feeling inside Sam flared to life, and he had the sudden urge to apologize to this man who’d only ever offered him kind, healing words. “When I found Jaime and Finn together, what I said… I didn’t mean that. I thought—” he sighed. “I thought Jaime was in trouble. I don’t actually think Finn is a monster.”
I don’t think you’re a monster.
Silas smiled like he’d heard Sam’s unspoken words. “I know. I don’t hold that against you, and I’m sure Finn doesn’t either. I’d have done the same for him,” he finished, shrugging. “Now, how about breakfast?”
Sam scuffed his foot on the carpet. “Do they have chocolate chip pancakes?”
Silas grinned again. “I’m sure Andi would throw a handful of them in the batter if you ask nicely.”
Sam nodded. “Alright. But only because there will be chocolate chip pancakes. And you’re calling Jaime.”
Silas began making some sort of rumbling noise as he ushered Sam out the door.
“Do you need to use the bathroom before we go?” Sam asked, because he’d almost gone an entire conversation without being an ass, and that wouldn’t do.
Silas blushed and cleared his throat, patting his chest. “Sorry. No, I’m fine. Uhh, yeah, let’s go.”
Once they were in the truck and on their way to Silver Rapids, he finished updating Sam. “The search parties are back out looking for Bishop this morning, but I wouldn’t count on them finding him. Finn texted late last night that there weren’t any signs of him near the safe house.”
Sam breathed a sigh of relief. “Would he be able to reach them on foot this quickly, even if he knew where they were? Aren’t they out in the middle of nowhere?”
Silas nodded. “If he knows where to go, yes, he could get there in a couple of days in wolf form.”
“So, you’re like, fast?”
Silas’ chest puffed out a bit, and he sat up straighter in his seat. “Yeah, we’re fast. And strong. And big. Like, really big. I can show you, sometime.”
Sam tried to hold back his smile and opened his mouth to say something he probably shouldn’t about wanting to know just how big he was, but Silas’ phone rang, and Finn’s name flashed on the built-in display caller ID.
Silas swiped to answer. “Hey. I’ve just picked up Sammy, we’re both?—”
A rustling sound interrupted him, and an unfamiliar voice filtered through the truck speakers. It was muffled and cutting in and out like they were speaking through an underground tunnel.
“—He’s not dead. Yet. Just tied up—will decide what to do with him?—”
Silas’ brow knit in confusion. “Finn? What’s going on? Who’s there with you?”
Jaime spoke then, sounding far away. “How did you find me?”
“Jaime?” Sam said, raising his voice. “Jaime, what’s happening? Where are you?”
Silas shushed him and reached over to take his hand. In a whisper, he said, “Quiet, love. Please don’t panic or shout. But I think Jaime is speaking to Jackson Bishop.”
Dread filled Sam’s chest, his bones suddenly heavy as lead. “Where’s Finn? How could this happen?” he frantically whispered back.
Silas shook his head. “I don’t know,” he answered, the knuckles of his other hand white on the steering wheel as they continued to listen to Jaime’s conversation.
Confused and devastatingly helpless, Sam didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t do anything from this far away, he just had to sit and listen. It was unbearable.
“I’m going to record this,” he mumbled, scrambling to pull up the recording app on his phone and capture all of Bishop’s incriminating words.
He had to do something. He could only make out bits and pieces of their conversation, but what he heard terrified him.
Silas drove right past the turn they’d normally take to head toward Silver Rapids, speeding up till they were flying down the highway. “The coordinates for the safe house are in my phone. Pull those up and plug them into the GPS, and then text Sheppard to let him know what’s happening,” Silas said, quietly calm.
Too calm, like it was forced.
Sam reached for Silas’ phone with his free hand and did as he asked, all thoughts of chocolate chip pancakes gone.
His other hand shook in Silas’ firm grip.
Sheppard texted back moments later, and Sam held the phone up so Silas could see his response.
Shep
On my way.
Sam’s heart stopped when Jackson Bishop snarled something at Jaime, and then Jaime spoke directly to Silas, his voice suddenly much clearer. “Silas, how much of that did you hear?”
Silas’ answer rumbled in his chest. “All of it.”
Jaime and Bishop exchanged a few more heated words before there was a great commotion, followed by a loud BANG!
“Jaime! JAIME!” Sam shouted as if he could will himself there to help, to stop whatever was happening, to trade places with Jaime.
Jaime didn’t respond. “JAIME! What’s happening?” Sam cried. Again, he didn’t answer. All they could hear was snarling, and then the call disconnected.
“Silas, what the fuck is going on? What do we do? I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to help—” he sobbed, confused and frantic and horrified, hitting the redial button over and over. Jaime never picked up.
He began shaking so hard he couldn’t control his voice. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. The last words he’d exchanged with Jaime had been full of anger and hurt.
Sam had so much he needed to say—so much he needed to apologize and atone for. He needed Jaime to know how much he loved him, how much he’d tried to be a good brother, and a good friend—how sorry he was that he’d failed at both.
Silas squeezed his hand, pulling it to his chest. “We’re on our way there. I’m going as fast as I can, love. I can’t—I don’t know—” his voice trembled and then broke.
Sam kept trying to call Jaime back, even though the phone rang out every time. “Silas, I can’t do this. This can’t be real,” he said thickly, voice choked with tears.
He was so helpless.
“I know, Sammy. It’s ok. It’ll be ok. I’ll make sure it’s ok.”
Of course, Silas was just as worried about Finn as he was about Jaime, so he squeezed his hand tighter. “Finn’s ok. Wherever he was, he found Jaime. They’re both ok, Silas. They’re ok.”
Neither of them knew that for sure, but they passed words of comfort back and forth anyway, because the reality that the two people they loved most were too far away for them to help was unbearable.
They flew down the highway.
With Sam’s hand clutched to his chest, Silas whispered reassuring words while they called over and over.
Just as Sam began to really lose it, Jaime finally answered the phone. “Silas. We’re safe. We’re fine, both of us. Finn got here in time.”
Sam sobbed. “Jaime. Oh, thank God, Jaime. We thought—all we heard was… Oh my God.”
All of his fear and regret rushed out through his tears, too much to hold inside any longer. He had no words right now, only overwhelming relief that they were alright.
Silas clutched at Sam’s hand, tears tracking down his own cheeks. “Finny? Are you alright?”
“Si. I’m here, brother. I’m ok.”
Silas pulled Sam’s hand up and kissed the back of it. “Good.”
“Um. So, not to put a damper on things, but there is a very large, very dead, decapitated wolf in the living room. Who is also a man. What are we going to do about that?” Jaime asked.
Sam let out an incredulous laugh, because really, what the fuck was he supposed to do with that?
Silas filled Finn and Jaime in on where they were, and they discussed how Sheppard would decide what to do about Bishop’s body.
“What about all that stuff about Jeffrey Dugan wanting the three of you dead? And his real motive for killing Vera? And why would he want to kill you, anyway?” Jaime asked.
Sam quickly looked over at Silas. He hadn’t processed what he was hearing through the muffled phone, too panicked to think clearly, but it seemed Silas had.
“I’m sure Sheppard is relaying the information we have about Jeffrey Dugan to DA Rivera as we speak so that he’s arrested and can’t hurt anyone else,” Silas said carefully.
Sam narrowed his eyes at Silas’ side-step.
Apparently, Finn caught it, too. “What does that mean, wanting to kill the three of us? Why target you? Us?”
Silas glanced over at Sam, eyes wary, and sighed. “Alpha Cain is my uncle. And he probably had his Second planning to kill me because none of his children inherited the alpha line. I did.”
His words washed over Sam like a sneaker wave, unsuspecting and sudden, knocking him off his feet and pulling him out into the freezing depths.
Cain.
Alpha Cain.
Sam’s breaths quickened.
Surely, Silas’ uncle couldn’t be the same Cain that Sam had borrowed the money from—the man they suspected had orchestrated Vera’s murder and the attacks on Jaime and Finn?
Muscles bunched and tense, frozen in place, Sam stared out the windshield, vaguely aware of Silas coordinating their arrival with Finn and Jaime before hanging up the phone.
“Cain?” he croaked, unable to voice the rest of his question. He wasn’t even sure what his question was—only that he desperately hoped Silas would say something that proved Sam’s fears were mistaken.
Silas squeezed his hand. “I spent the first six years of my life in the Salt Creek pack. My parents fled after he threatened to take me away and kill my father if they intervened. Being around him as a child was… upsetting. They left everything behind to protect me.”
Sam felt like he was standing still while the world sped by, dizzy and nauseous. It can’t be the same Cain. Surely, it can’t be.
“I’ve never wanted to be anything like my uncle,” Silas continued, almost pleading, as if he thought Sam would think less of him for the connection. “He manipulates and twists people into doing what he wants, through bribes and loans and favors. He’s a terrible man. I won’t let him hurt Jaime again. I won’t let him hurt any of you, again. I’d do anything to keep him out of our lives, Sammy. I promise.”
Through bribes and loans and favors.
It’d been clear Cain wasn’t a good person, but if Sam had known who he was, what he’d done to Jaime and Silas and so many others, he would’ve found another way to pay for the security. He would’ve pushed Derek harder to give him his money back.
He would’ve never called that fucking phone number.
Instead, he’d allowed himself to be manipulated, just like Silas said. Had that been Cain’s plan all along? Had Derek been a plant from the start? Someone to keep tabs on him and Jaime?
Or maybe Sam’s plight had just been an opportunity Cain couldn’t pass up; a pawn to move around the same way Jaime had been an accidental bystander in a larger scheme.
In the end, it didn’t matter. Sam was indebted to him either way.
He couldn’t feel his body.
No. No. He wouldn’t do it. No matter what favor Cain asked of him—he’d refuse.
He’d work extra hard over the next few months and save up what he’d borrowed. He’d pay Cain back. With interest, if he had to. Then he’d cut ties and never tell Silas or Jaime any of it.
He’d never have to face the shame of what he’d done, or that he’d inadvertently been trapped in that awful man’s web in the process.
He was going to be sick.
“Pull over,” Sam choked out, already feeling the bile surge up his throat. He threw the door open when Silas came to a quick stop and spilled the meager contents of his stomach into the ditch.
Silas was out of the truck and bent over next to him in a flash, gently running his claws up and down Sam’s back in soothing passes.
When Sam finished throwing up, Silas pulled him into his arms and held him close, his soft, dark hair tickling Sam’s cheek. “Shh, it’s alright, love. It’s alright. Jaime and Finn are safe, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure Cain can’t hurt any of us again. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Sammy. It’ll be ok,” he crooned.
Sam began to cry harder.
Silas was apologizing to him when it should be the other way around. If Sam were a better man, a braver man, he would have. He’d confess everything and tell Silas that in trying to make it better, he’d accidentally fallen further into a pit of his own making and become indebted to his uncle.
But he couldn’t face it. He couldn’t expose his throat so freely, couldn’t share his greatest shame with anyone, let alone Silas.
Good, caring, whole Silas, who deserved someone whole in return, and a life free of Cain.
Clearly, Sam could never give him that.
I’d do anything to keep him out of our lives.
It didn’t matter that Silas’ smile stole his breath away, or that his name in Silas’ mouth felt warm and familiar. Sam had fucked up any chance they’d had before they’d even met, and now all he could do was try and minimize the damage.
He wouldn’t allow himself to be Cain’s pawn in manipulating Silas’ life. In Jaime’s life. In any of their lives.
Silas continued to hold him for long minutes, whispering gentle, calming words. Sam clung on, feeling the moments slipping away before he’d have to let go.
Forever.