6. Remy
Chapter 6
Remy
The gravel crunched under my boots as I made my way toward the familiar glow of the security booth at the entrance of Pecan Ridge Nature Reserve.
Ernie was there, as usual, leaning back in his chair and flipping through a paperback novel.
“Hey, Ernie,” I greeted, lifting a hand.
Ernie looked up, squinting at me over his wire-rimmed glasses. “Hey there, kid. You going in?”
“Yeah, just for a little while,” I replied, adjusting the paper bag Colton had handed me after work.
The smell of barbecue sauce and buttery rolls wafted up, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since lunch.
Ernie nodded and pushed his chair back with a creak. “Alright, same rules. Don’t let the raccoons give you trouble.”
I chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
It had taken me a while to warm up to Ernie. At first, he was just the gruff old man guarding the reserve, someone I barely exchanged a word with.
But after that night when I had to spend the night at the pack clinic and couldn’t make it back to my car and, he’d kept an eye on things.
Ever since, I made a point to greet him, even if it was just a quick wave.
Tonight, though, I had something else in mind.
“By the way,” I said, shifting the bag to one arm, “got something for you.”
Ernie tilted his head. “Oh yeah?”
I pulled out the top box from the paper bag and handed it over.
He took the box but hesitated. “What about you? Got enough for yourself?”
There was genuine concern in his eyes. Though, instead of offering the box back, his hands moved without pause, opening it to reveal barbecue chicken and macaroni salad.
Before I could answer, he produced a fork from who knew where and quickly dug in.
I smiled. “Don’t worry about me. Have a good night, Ernie.”
He grunted in thanks, already chewing, and gave me a small wave with the fork as I walked past. It was the least I could do. Ernie had been a quiet sort of ally ever since that night.
I suspected he still kept an eye on my car when I was off at work, and he always let me through the reserve without a fuss, even late at night.
Knowing someone had my back, even in the smallest ways, was a feeling I wasn’t used to. It felt nice, in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.
I took the familiar trail and soon arrived at my usual spot: a splintered picnic bench near the lake’s edge.
The cool night air prickled my skin as I unpacked the boxes from the bag, lining them up neatly on the table.
Four tonight—the same as last night and the night before.
The first time Colton handed me a "leftovers" box after my shift, I almost believed him. Almost.
“A little bit of everything,” he’d said, flashing that easy smile. “To get you familiar with the menu.”
Back then, it was just one styrofoam box, packed so full I had to balance it awkwardly on my lap while I ate it inside my car.
Now, it was a whole production.
The single box turned into two, then three, and lately, four. I highly doubted these were actual leftovers.
I popped open the first box: tender-looking baby back ribs, neatly arranged beside a mound of coleslaw.
A single sprig of cilantro perched delicately on top of the coleslaw, like a finishing touch on a fancy dinner plate. Who puts a garnish on leftovers?
The thought made me grin. I could almost picture Colton packing these up, carefully arranging everything like some sort of culinary artist.
Did he place the cilantro himself, tilting his head to make sure it was perfectly centered?
Probably not, but the image was too good not to laugh at. I made a mental note to tease him about it tomorrow.
As my stomach growled in protest, I checked the other boxes. One had a burger; another contained cornbread muffins wrapped in wax paper—my favorite.
I decided to save the burger for breakfast and maybe give Ernie a couple of muffins before heading back to the car later. For now, the ribs were calling my name.
I sank my teeth into the first rib, the sweet tang of the barbecue sauce hitting just right. Even though I’d had ribs almost every night this week, I wasn’t tired of them. Not with this view.
The stars glittered above, sharp and clear, their reflection rippling faintly across the lake’s surface.
Crickets hummed a steady rhythm, and every so often, the water broke as a fish surfaced. Faint laughter drifting over from the campers across the lake.
I took another bite and leaned back, letting the peace of the moment settle over me. For the first time in a long while, I felt... okay. Maybe more than okay.
I wondered if Colton would come here with me if I asked.
I could show him this little spot, the place I’d been eating all his “leftovers.” Maybe he’d like it.
But only if he wasn’t too busy with the restaurant. He was always the first one to show up and the last one to leave.
I admired that about him—his dedication, his focus. He knew what needed to be done and just... did it. No hesitation. No second-guessing.
Part of me was a little jealous of that clarity. I was just earning money for now, but then what? Where would I go? What would I do?
The idea of staying here in Pecan Pines was tempting. A fresh start.
But joining the pack? That was a whole different story. If they’d even let me.
What pack would want a shifter with a body as screwed up as mine?
And there was always the shadow of Thornebane hanging over me. What if someone found out I was here? What if they dragged me back?
When I told Colton I was from Thornebane and had chosen not to go back after the summit, he just nodded. No questions, no judgment.
But I’d been on edge for days after. What if he told someone? What if he thought it was his duty to report me?
That first night, I’d barely slept, half-expecting an enforcer from Thornebane or Pecan Pines pack to show up and drag me away.
Days passed, and no one came. Nothing happened. No enforcers showing up at my car, no summons from Thornebane, no awkward questions from Colton or Ethan.
Eventually, I mustered the courage to ask Colton outright if he’d told anyone else about me.
It was during a lull between the dinner and late-night rush. Colton was stacking trays, his sleeves rolled up, forearms dusted with flour from whatever he’d been prepping earlier.
“Hey, uh, Colton,” I started, shifting on my feet. “About... what I told you, about where I was from. You didn’t, uh, tell anyone, did you?”
He paused, brow furrowing slightly. “Why would I?” he asked, like the idea itself was ridiculous.
I hesitated, unsure how to respond. He tilted his head, his expression softening.
“It’s your choice what to tell people about yourself,” he said firmly. “If you want, you can even say you’re a lone wolf just passing through. It’s not uncommon.”
The words were kind, practical even, but something flickered in his eyes.
A hesitation, like the idea of me leaving eventually unsettled him.
Before I could think too much about it, he quickly added, “But you can stay here. Work here. As long as you want.”
His voice was steady, but there was something in the way he looked at me that made my chest ache.
His fingers twitched slightly at his sides, like he wanted to reach out or say more, but before I could figure it out, Jesse’s voice rang out from the kitchen.
“Colton! Need you back here! Now, man, the fryer’s acting up again!” Jesse bellowed, his tone equal parts panic and frustration.
Colton sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Duty calls,” he muttered, giving me a half-smile before disappearing into the chaos of the kitchen.
I stood there for a moment, staring after him. That look in his eyes—it stayed with me long after he was gone. For the first time in a while, leaving didn’t feel like the only option.
Still, old habits died hard. Even though I was sure Colton—or even Ethan—hadn’t said anything about me, I couldn’t stop myself from checking my phone every so often, just in case.
No missed calls. No frantic messages about enforcers or orders to drag me back to Thornebane.
Just the usual message from Carter.
He still sent one every couple of days like clockwork. “Checking in. You okay?” “Need anything?”
I’d stopped getting anxious when I saw his name pop up. I even left him on read half the time, but he never followed up.
It was strange. Carter wasn’t the type to let things slide, but here he was, playing the long game.
But tonight, though, was different. Maybe it was the full belly, the ribs still warm in my stomach.
Maybe it was the quiet night—the stars, the lake, the faint hum of crickets lulling me into a rare sense of peace.
Or maybe it was the memory of Colton’s voice, his eyes, that look that said more than his words ever could.
Whatever it was, it loosened something in my chest. Made me feel like I could breathe a little easier.
I opened Carter’s latest message—just a simple “Hope you’re okay”—and, for the first time, I replied.
“I’m doing good.”