5. Colton
Chapter 5
Colton
The morning didn’t start too well. First, the kitchen sink was leaking. I’d noticed the slow drip last night, but by morning, it was a steady trickle pooling onto the floor.
I’d crouched under the sink, wrench in hand, muttering under my breath as I tried to tighten the pipes. That lasted all of five minutes before I made it worse.
Water sprayed out when I twisted the wrong thing, soaking my shirt and dripping onto my face. I let out a frustrated growl and threw the wrench down with a loud clang.
Great. Just what I needed. With a deep breath, I wiped my face with my sleeve and admitted defeat. I had to call a repairman. The house was too big for just me.
It had been my parents’ place before they decided to get a smaller apartment.
Ethan had lived here for a while, too, until he moved out to the pack lands to become Devon’s apprentice. Now it was just me and an empty house.
By the time I was driving to work, I was already in a sour mood. The sun was too bright, my coffee was lukewarm, and my truck’s radio decided now was the time to cut out.
But then I remembered—Remy starts today. That thought perked me up.
I didn’t know why exactly. It wasn’t like I liked the guy. I barely knew him. But I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head since that night at the clinic.
And apparently, my subconscious wasn’t done with him, either.
I’d dreamed of him last night—not in any way I’d have to take a cold shower over. It had been something… different.
We’d been running. Side by side, in our wolf forms, chasing something unseen through the woods. It had felt so natural, so right, like we’d been doing it forever.
I shook the thought off as I pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot. The first thing I noticed? Remy was already here.
He stood in front of the restaurant’s doors, staring up at them like he was having deep thoughts. I’m always the first one here. Had he walked? Taken the bus?
Maybe I should’ve asked how he was getting to work.
Pushing the thought aside, I climbed out of my ride and called out, “Good morning.”
Remy jumped slightly, shoulders tensing, before he turned to look at me. His expression smoothed when he recognized me, and he let out a small breath.
That reaction made something in my chest tighten. Why’d he flinch like that?
I was tempted to ask, but I held back. Pressing him for answers wasn’t the way to start his first day.
“Morning,” he replied, shifting his weight.
I unlocked the doors and glanced over at him. “Have a good sleep?”
I couldn’t tell him the truth—that I’d spent the night dreaming of him, of running with him like we’d known each other our whole lives.
So I lied. “Sure did.”
Remy gave a small nod, like he hadn’t expected much more of an answer.
“You ready for your first day?” I asked as I pushed the doors open.
He hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding again. “Yeah.”
The restaurant was quiet as we stepped inside, just the two of us.
The usual warmth of the place—the smell of coffee, fresh bread, and butter lingering in the air—was comforting. Peaceful.
I turned on a few lights and tossed my keys onto the counter.
“Alright, so here’s the deal. You’ll start by bussing tables and helping out in the kitchen when needed. If things go well, we’ll see about moving you up,” I told him.
Remy listened intently, nodding along as I spoke. I was already impressed. Some new hires needed everything repeated twice, but he seemed to absorb every word.
As we moved through the restaurant, I showed him where the supplies were, how to set up the front station, and what to expect once the morning rush started.
Remy worked quietly but efficiently, helping me set up chairs and wipe down tables. Little by little, the restaurant came to life.
The scent of fresh coffee filled the air, the distant hum of the oven preheating added to the background noise.
Soon, the sound of the back door opening signaled the arrival of the rest of the staff. Jesse strolled in first, yawning dramatically.
“Well, well,” he drawled, glancing between me and Remy. “What do we have here?”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”
Jesse smirked but turned his attention to Remy, giving him a once-over. “You must be the new guy.”
Remy nodded, shifting slightly under Jesse’s scrutiny.
Jesse grinned and extended a hand. “Welcome to the chaos, man. Hope you can keep up.”
Remy hesitated for a second before shaking his hand. Something about that made me feel oddly protective. Jesse was harmless—mostly, but he was too much sometimes.
My cousin didn’t waste a second before turning on the charm. At first, it was subtle—offering to “show Remy the ropes” with that easy grin of his.
Remy, to his credit, just nodded and followed along.
He listened intently as Jesse explained the layout of the kitchen and the quickest ways to get through the lunch rush without getting trampled.
But then Jesse started really laying it on. Standing a little too close. Brushing against Remy when he didn’t need to. Flashing that lazy, flirty smile like it was second nature.
“See, Remy, when Colton’s in a mood, just let him bark. He won’t bite—unless you ask real nice,” Jesse teased, winking as he leaned against the counter.
Remy huffed a small laugh but didn’t reply.
I shot Jesse a glare. “You done running your mouth, or are you actually gonna do your job?”
Jesse just smirked. “Relax, boss. Just breaking in the new guy.”
I ignored him and focused on work, but the irritation simmered under my skin, making my movements sharper than necessary.
Every time I glanced over, Jesse was hovering near Remy, cracking some joke, giving some helpful hands-on instruction that involved way too much unnecessary touching.
It grated on my nerves. I had no claim on Remy, but the way Jesse’s fingers skimmed over his wrist when passing him a tray?
The way he looked at Remy, like he was testing the waters?
I clenched my jaw. By mid-morning, I’d had enough. Jesse had cornered Remy near the back storage shelf, talking low, a little smirk on his lips.
I didn’t even think—I just moved.
“Jesse.” My voice came out sharper than I intended. “Why don’t you find something useful to do?”
Jesse blinked, clearly surprised by the edge in my tone. Then, the amusement in his eyes sharpened, like he’d just figured something out.
A slow grin spread across his face. “Ohhh,” he drawled, drawing out the word like he’d just found his favorite new toy. “Didn’t realize I was stepping on toes.”
My shoulders tensed. “You’re not. Just do your damn job.”
Jesse hummed, looking between me and Remy like he was putting pieces together.
“Sure thing, boss.” He gave a lazy salute before finally backing off, sauntering back toward the front like he hadn’t just been warned off.
I exhaled slowly, reigning myself in before I did something stupid—like actually throw Jesse out the back door.
When I turned back to Remy, he was staring at me, expression unreadable.
He hadn’t said a word through all of that, but there was something in his gaze—curiosity, maybe.
I cleared my throat. “Jesse’s an ass. Ignore him.”
Remy didn’t reply right away, just tilted his head slightly, like he was considering something.
Then, finally, he nodded. “Alright.”
That was it. No comment, no teasing, just quiet acceptance. Lunch rush had finally slowed, giving the staff a much-needed breather.
The kitchen was still warm from the hours of grilling, frying, and baking, the scent of smoked meat and spices lingering in the air.
I wiped my hands on a towel and glanced over to where Remy was stacking plates near the sink.
I wasn’t usually one to eat with the staff—I preferred grabbing a bite in my office or at the bar. But something about Remy made me linger, made me want to sit with him.
“You eaten yet?” I asked, leaning against the counter.
Remy looked up, a little surprised. “Not yet.”
“Wanna eat together?” I asked.
He hesitated for only a beat before nodding. “Yeah, sure.”
I grabbed us a couple of plates from the window, loading them up with brisket, mac and cheese, and cornbread.
I led him over to the break table tucked in the back corner of the kitchen, away from the lingering customers. We sat across from each other.
I watched as Remy picked up a piece of barbecue, took a bite, and— A low, pleased moan escaped him. I froze.
Heat curled in my stomach at the sound, unexpected and way too damn enticing.
Remy, oblivious, chewed with a blissed-out expression, eyes half-lidded in satisfaction.
“This is so good,” he murmured.
I cleared my throat, gripping my fork tighter than necessary. “Glad to hear it.”
His eyes flicked to me then, as if catching onto my reaction. A slow, teasing smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“What?” he asked, cocking his head slightly.
I smirked, stabbing a bite of mac and cheese with my fork. “Didn’t take you for a food moaner.”
His face flushed, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he licked a bit of sauce off his thumb, deliberate and slow.
I shifted in my seat, forcing myself to focus on my plate before I did something stupid.
“How’s everything been today?” I asked, steering the conversation onto safer ground.
Remy took a sip of his drink, still watching me like he was figuring something out. “It’s been good. Everyone’s been nice.”
I nodded. “We pride ourselves on that. The restaurant—this whole place—it’s more than just a job. We’re a family here.”
Remy’s expression flickered for a second, something unreadable passing through his eyes before he masked it with another easy smile.
“That’s… nice,” he said, but there was something off about the way he said it. Like he didn’t quite believe it.
I hesitated, debating whether to push, then decided screw it.
“Ethan mentioned something the other day,” I said carefully. “He thought you looked familiar. Said he might’ve seen you at the summit.”
Remy froze, his fork hovering midair. He swallowed, like he was choosing his next words carefully.
“I used to be part of the Thornebane pack,” he admitted finally, setting his fork down. “But I chose not to return with them.”
The Thornebane pack had been a literal thorn in our side—and the other packs’—since their arrival.
Their former alpha had been obsessed with Noah, and that obsession had ended in disaster. The trouble he’d caused had cost lives, including his own.
Thornebane was under new leadership now, likely going through plenty of changes. I didn’t blame Remy for leaving. Still, I wanted to hear his side of the story.
“Why?” I asked, keeping my tone casual.
Remy’s jaw tightened, his posture shifting subtly like he was ready to bolt.
“It’s personal.” His tone was sharp, guarded.
I held up my hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough.”
He eyed me for a moment, like he was waiting for me to push the issue. When I didn’t, some of the tension in his shoulders eased.
We finished the rest of our meal in a comfortable silence.
The rest of the shift passed in a blur of orders, clattering dishes, and the steady hum of the restaurant. I kept myself busy, but every so often, my eyes strayed to Remy.
Things had been a little tense after lunch. I wasn’t sure if I regretted bringing up the summit or if I regretted how I brought it up.
Remy had clammed up, and I didn’t blame him. The past wasn’t always easy to talk about.
By the time the dinner rush died down, most of the staff had started wrapping up their duties, chatting about their plans for the night.
I spotted Remy at the side station, wiping down counters before heading toward the back to clock out.
Before he could disappear, I called out, “Remy.”
He turned, looking a little wary, like he was expecting me to bring up our earlier conversation again. I didn’t. Instead, I held out a takeout container.
“Here,” I said. “Something for dinner.”
He hesitated, glancing down at the container, then back up at me. “What is it?”
“Just leftovers.” I tried to sound casual, but the way his eyes flickered told me he wasn’t buying it.
He took the food from my hands, his fingers brushing against mine for the briefest second—warm, solid, real.
For a moment, I thought he’d refuse. That he’d shake his head and walk away. But instead, he gave me a small smile, one that wasn’t guarded or forced.
“Thanks, Colton.”
His voice was quiet, but I heard the sincerity in it.
Then, as he turned to leave, he added, “See you tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. I watched him go, the restaurant suddenly feeling too quiet, too empty.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “See you tomorrow.”