12. Remy
Chapter 12
Remy
The table was loud, a mix of overlapping voices and clinking silverware. But I had the order down by the time I finished making my way around.
“Got it. So that’s two full racks, medium rare. One with the sauce on the side, no onions. The other with extra seasoning and a loaded baked potato instead of fries.”
I glanced at the woman sitting closest to me. “And for you, ma’am, the chicken tenders, plain, with ranch dressing on the side. No coleslaw, right?”
She nodded, a little impressed. “That’s right. You’re good.”
“Thank you.” I smiled, professional but polite, then added, “Oh, before I go—have you all had a chance to try the new appetizer special? Spinach and artichoke flatbread with melted mozzarella and a balsamic glaze. It’s been a hit all week.”
There were murmurs around the table. The guy who’d ordered the ribs leaned back in his chair. “Sure, we’ll take two of those.”
“Excellent choice.” I scribbled down the addition, gave them another quick nod, and headed for the order terminal.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Jesse watching me.
His head was tilted slightly, a look on his face like he was piecing together a puzzle. Great. Just what I needed.
Jesse fell into step beside me as I reached the machine. I punched the order in harder than I meant to, the buttons clicking sharply. He flinched at the sound.
“Hey,” he started cautiously, “you good?”
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice clipped as I hit the final button and sent the order through.
“Uh-huh.” Jesse wasn’t buying it. He followed me as I made my way to the pick-up counter.
I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, waiting for the orders to start coming out.
From here, I could see the whole dining area: tables full of chatter, waitstaff weaving between them, and the occasional hand raised for service.
But Jesse, unfortunately, wasn’t done. “Did something happen with you and Colton last night?” he asked, his voice low.
I turned to glare at him, keeping my mouth shut. Not a chance.
“Did what happen with Colton?” Ethan’s voice broke in as he walked over, clearly catching the tail end of Jesse’s question.
I scowled, my eyes flicking back to the dining area. A hand shot up at a table in the corner, and I stepped forward quickly, relieved to have an excuse to leave. But before I could get there, I realized they weren’t signaling for me.
The hand waved enthusiastically, greeting someone who’d just walked through the door—another member of their group. I stopped mid-step, frustration bubbling just under the surface.
Where were the hungry diners tonight—the ones who actually needed serving? Last night, the place had been packed and buzzing with energy.
Tonight was quieter. Still decent, thanks to the Bottomless BBQ Night promotion, but nowhere near the madhouse it had been before.
Probably why Ethan was here again—helping out since they were expecting another big crowd. And now, here I was, cornered by him and Jesse, both of them intent on pestering me.
My mind drifted back to earlier, before the shift. I’d arrived an hour early, like usual, and spotted Colton. The look on his face when he saw me—it was like he thought I wouldn’t show up.
Why wouldn’t I? Just because I’d had a fight with my boss after sleeping with him? I wasn’t about to lose this job. I still needed money for my car, didn’t I?
No. My wolf whispered, soft but insistent. Mate . Yes, mate. I’d felt it last night—maybe even before—but I hadn’t wanted to admit it.
But Colton… he had no right. No right to follow me without my knowledge, to find out I was living in my car and then act like it was his secret to share.
How long had he known? Had he always known? Was that why he gave me food every night—because he pitied me?
The thought made my stomach twist. Pity. It felt too close to being looked down on.
I could handle things on my own. I’d managed to get out of Thornebane, hadn’t I? Gotten this far without anyone’s help.
But the way those wolves used to look at me, was that what Colton saw too? No. Colton wasn’t like them. He couldn’t be. He was my mate.
I gritted my teeth, refusing to think about the way I’d avoided him earlier. Usually, I came in early to watch him prep food, but today, I’d kept my distance.
I stayed on the floor, wiping down tables and menus instead. I couldn’t bear to be in the same room with him. Not now.
Ethan leaned against the counter, an amused glint in his eye. “This guy comes in earlier, orders a low-calorie salad, right? But then he goes, ‘Can you add extra fried chicken and more croutons on top?’ Like, buddy, at that point, just order the chicken sandwich.”
I gave a polite chuckle, just enough to show I was paying attention.
Then, I felt it—a prickling at the back of my neck. My instincts stirred, and I glanced toward the kitchen.
Colton quickly turned, barking orders. I didn’t see him staring, but the weight of his gaze still pressed against my skin.
I forced myself to look away, keeping my face neutral. It was easier to ignore him than to face whatever was building between us.
Ethan’s grin faded. “Hey,” he said, his voice quieter, more serious. “Are you really okay?”
I hesitated, the words stuck in my throat, but the concern in his eyes made it hard to dismiss him outright.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Jesse glance between us. His mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.
Instead, his concern mirrored Ethan’s, and suddenly, their quiet attention felt suffocating.
Before I could figure out what to say, a loud clattering sound came from the kitchen.
Plates and trays lined the counter behind us, the pick-up counter now packed with orders ready to go.
Colton’s voice cut through the low din of the restaurant. “I’m not paying you all to stand around and gossip. Get these orders to the tables. Now.”
Jesse and Ethan jumped to attention, grabbing trays without a word.
Relief washed over me as Jesse and Ethan moved on, but it twisted into a knot when Colton stepped up to the counter again.
He placed two more plates down, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment like he wanted to say something—but didn’t.
Our fingers brushed as he handed me the plates. The touch was brief, but he pulled back like I’d burned him.
“Sorry,” he muttered, barely audible, before disappearing back into the kitchen.
I stood there for a beat longer, trying to shake off the lingering unease. I forced myself to focus.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. The crowd thickened, tables filled quickly, and soon enough, there was a line stretching out the door.
For some reason, though, it didn’t feel overwhelming. My section turned over smoothly, and I even found myself helping out in Jesse and Ethan’s areas when I could.
Maybe it was the rhythm of it all, the way the chaos kept my mind busy.
Even as the night wore on, one thought lingered at the back of my mind: Colton’s eyes, the brush of his fingers, the tension that hadn’t been there before last night.
The pick-up counter felt like a trap, each second near it stretching longer than the last. I only went there when I had to.
Every trip to grab plates was quick, automatic—pick up, turn away, move. No time for hesitation.
Not with the risk of another brush of fingers or a glance that might tighten my chest in ways I couldn’t deal with.
The fear gnawed at me, quiet but persistent. It wasn’t just about the car. It was what it represented—a reminder of everything I wasn’t.
Back in Thornebane, I was the wolf who couldn’t shift properly. The liability. No matter how hard I’d tried, it had never been enough.
Their judgment had seeped into my bones, carving out a deep, unshakable belief that I’d always fall short.
And Colton… Colton was everything I wasn’t. Strong, capable, steady. The kind of person a pack relied on.
The kind of person who deserved someone strong at his side, not someone like me.
Would his pack start to look at him differently because of me? Whisper that he’d chosen wrong?
That he was weaker, less respected, for being tied to someone like me?
A thought hit me like a blow. What if Colton came to see me the same way Thornebane had? Incomplete. A burden. Not good enough.
The idea of him walking away, deciding I wasn’t worth the cost... It left me hollow. The fear sinking deeper with every breath.
I clenched my jaw and forced my legs to keep moving. Staying busy kept me from thinking about it.
I darted around the floor—delivering orders, refilling water glasses, clearing tables before anyone had to ask. When a new group walked in, I greeted them with a practiced smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
The fear didn’t fade, but it dulled as long as I stayed in motion.
Colton had always been kind, but what if it was out of obligation—pity, even? How much longer before the cracks started to show?
I hated the thought of him seeing the version of me I barely recognized, the one I was sure everyone else would see if they looked too closely.
So, I kept my distance, only grabbing plates when absolutely necessary. Even then, my hands moved with precision, leaving no room for hesitation.
In and out. No time for Colton’s gaze to catch me.
When the place finally quieted, I wiped down the last table, grateful that Ethan and Jesse had left me alone to finish up.
I needed the space to breathe, to let the evening end without feeling like I had to perform for anyone.
Across the room, Jesse and Ethan sat at a table, both looking like they’d melted into their chairs.
Colton sat across from them, a calculator in one hand and a pen in the other, jotting numbers into a notepad.
A small smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. Wasn’t there an app for that sort of thing?
I quickly turned back to the chairs before he noticed me looking.
Colton handed out envelopes to Jesse and Ethan, who perked up just enough to take their tips for the night, mumbling their thanks.
Then, he cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the quiet. “Remy,” he called, his tone steady but carrying an edge I couldn’t quite place.
I froze, my stomach tightening. For a moment, I considered staying put, but the weight of his gaze left me no choice. Slowly, I made my way over.
He handed me an envelope without a word. My brow furrowed as I caught sight of the number on it.
“What’s this for?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.
Jesse and Ethan, now standing nearby, paused long enough to chime in. “Good job, man,” Jesse said with a grin. Ethan nodded. “Well deserved.”
I flicked my gaze back to the envelope, then to Colton. "Do you feel sorry for me?"
The words slipped out before I could stop them. Jesse and Ethan exchanged quick looks.
Without a word, they grabbed their things and left, the door swinging shut behind them.
Colton didn’t flinch. He met my gaze, steady as ever. “It’s your tips. All of it. You can check the records if you want. Feel free.”
“I will,” I said, the defensiveness in my tone not entirely hidden.
I didn’t wait for a response. I grabbed a chair and sat next to him.
My heart pounded as I grabbed the notepad, calculator, and receipts he had been using.
The numbers blurred for a second before I focused, sorting through everything—each line of receipts, every note—making sure it all added up.
By the time I finished my third re-check, it was almost 3 a.m. Morning deliveries would be coming soon, but I didn’t care.
Still no mistakes.
The numbers added up every single time.
Colton sat a few feet away, silent and patient, as if he had all the time in the world.
He didn’t say anything while I went through the receipts again and again, trying to find something—anything—to prove my suspicions right.
Finally, he broke the silence. “Satisfied?”
Heat crept up my neck. I looked away, rubbing the back of my hand against my face to hide the flush.
“Yeah,” I muttered.
The envelope with the tips sat on the table between us, but my focus wasn’t on it anymore.
"Colton," I began, my voice quieter than I intended. “Have you been feeling sorry for me?”
His brows furrowed. “What?”
“Not the tips,” I clarified, hesitating before pushing on.
“Like... the food. You give me three, sometimes five boxes every night after I clock out. You’re not doing that for anyone else. So… why?”
He sat back slightly, his chair creaking under the shift. “The food’s part of the staff benefits,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “A free meal for every shift. That’s policy.”
I frowned. “Yeah, one meal. Not a whole fridge’s worth.”
There was a pause, the kind that stretched too long and left me feeling exposed. Finally, he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Alright, fine. Yes, I’m looking out for you. But it’s not pity,” he added quickly, his tone sharp, almost defensive. “You work hard. You’ve earned it.”
I wanted to argue, to push back, but the sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten. I shook my head, not trusting myself to say the right thing.
“I’m not trying to pick a fight,” I said softly, my voice uneven. “I just?—”
I stopped, looking anywhere but at him. The wave of emotion I’d been holding back started to crest, and I had to force myself to steady.
“I just feel like…” My voice trailed off, and instead of finishing the sentence, I pivoted. “Do you know about my… ‘condition’?”
“‘Condition’?” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing in concern.
“Didn’t Ethan tell you anything that night? At the pack clinic?” I met his gaze, trying to read him. “He looked me over, didn’t he? He must have known something was off.”
He shook his head. “No,” he said simply. “Nothing came up.”
The confusion hit me like a brick wall. “Nothing? He didn’t say anything?”
“Not a word.” Colton’s tone was calm, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—curiosity, maybe. “Why? Should he have?”
For a moment, I hesitated, but something about the way he was looking at me encouraged me to keep going.
“It’s hard to explain,” I admitted, lowering my gaze to the table. “But… I guess you deserve to know.”
And so, I told him.
About my struggles with shifting—how I could never seem to get it right, how the Thornebane pack had treated me because of it.
The cold shoulders. The judgment. How I never quite fit in.
I told him about staying behind after the summit, about living in my car because I didn’t want to go back.
As I spoke, I caught glimpses of his reaction. His jaw tightened. His eyes flickered gold, sharp and angry, a few times.
Once, I reached out and placed a hand over his, the warmth grounding both of us.
“It’s kind of ironic,” I said, forcing a small smile. “I’m the one it happened to, but I’m the one calming you down.”
His lips twitched, almost smiling, but the anger didn’t fade. “I hate that you went through that,” he said, his voice low.
I shrugged, trying to brush it off. “It’s over now. I just want to move on.”
“And Carter?” he asked, his voice careful.
“He called once,” I admitted. “Asked if I was okay. I told him I was fine, and he hasn’t contacted me since. And I’m glad. I want it to stay that way.”
Colton nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, and for the first time, I felt uneasy.
“Look,” I said quickly, the words tumbling out before I could stop them, “if my ‘condition’ is… too much, or if it changes things between us, I’d under?—”
“Don’t.” His voice cut through mine, firm and absolute. “It doesn’t matter. It never has. And it never will.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in his tone.
“You’re my mate, Remy,” he continued, his voice soft but no less certain. “Nothing changes that. Nothing ever could.”
His words knocked the wind out of me. Before I could process what was happening, he leaned forward, his lips capturing mine
It was slow at first, deliberate, as if he was giving me time to pull away.
But I didn’t. I leaned in, letting the warmth of him drown out everything else. His hands found my waist, pulling me closer.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, losing myself in the moment. His grip tightened, one hand trailing up my back while the other stayed firmly on my hip.
When we finally pulled apart, my cheeks were flushed, my breath unsteady. He grinned, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“Morning crew’s gonna walk in any second,” he teased, his voice low and rough.
I laughed, the sound light and easy in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. "Yeah, we don't need an audience."
Colton chuckled, pressing one last kiss to my forehead before pulling back. “Let’s get out of here.”