Chapter 24 #2
“You’re not,” he reassures me. “Hello, Chef. I’m sorry to pull you from the kitchen.”
There’s a handful of people in the restaurant, and the chef shrugs goodnaturedly.
“Anything for you, Mr. Mayor,” he says. Knowing that Lyle is now running for this position, their pack name almost tells the world it’s a foregone conclusion that one of them ends up as the mayor of the city they love so much.
“My omega has had trouble eating recently. Simple foods seem to be best. Would it be possible to make her some kind of grilled cheese sandwich?”
“Oh yeah,” the chef says with wide eyes as they swing toward me. “Just cheese, or can I fancy it up with slices of tomato. No hate either way, I want to make something you’ll enjoy.”
“Tomatoes sound good,” I admit softly. “Thank you. I feel awful.”
“Don’t,” he chuckles. “The menu is almost a suggestion at this point. We’re never run off our feet here. The restaurant is used to cater the events the gardens are known for. We kind of coast along otherwise. Do you eat soup?”
“Not in a long time,” I say, knowing the sentence sounds crazy out of context. “I kind of graze during the day.”
Instead of making a joke about how I eat like a child, he merely bobs his head. He has wide shoulders like a line backer, thick arms, and the ability to make people at ease. It may have something to do with this thick drawl and refusal to judge people for their odd appetites.
“How do you feel about a half sandwich and a cup of butternut soup?” he asks. “I have some made up that I can heat up, and I think it would go really well together.”
The ball is still in my court, and I nod with a relieved expression.
“That sounds great, thank you,” I breathe.
“I’ll take the same thing, with a bowl of the soup, please,” Silas says gratefully. “You’re the best.”
“It’s really no problem,” he promises, picking up the menus without thought. “I’ll get this started for you all.”
The chef stops near the entrance to the restaurant to speak to the waitress, and then disappears back inside. Our water is dropped off by someone else, and I relax into the chair.
“You didn’t die,” Silas says softly.
“I didn’t. I’m used to staying small and quiet. It feels odd to call attention to myself.”
Silas stretches his hand over the table and I slide my palm over his before he threads his fingers through mine. “You deserve to take up space and be yourself. Fuck being small and quiet, Little Fighter. Your voice matters, Alisa.”
I let myself sit with that, gazing at the flowers and birds as they go on with their day.
Chef Boone brings out the dishes himself once they’re done, gesturing for me to try it.
I’m getting used to alphas watching me eat.
Silas’ words may also still be ringing in my ears as I pick up the sandwich and take a bite.
Oh. Everything is melted perfectly, and I hum happily as I chew.
“I’m glad my instincts were right. I took care of your bill. Stay as long as you want.”
My eyes widen as he leaves and Silas huffs out an amused sigh.
“He never lets me pay for shit,” he grunts.
“Why?” I ask once I manage to swallow.
“He was fired from a restaurant and thrown out while I was walking past. The owner hit his wife in front of Boone, and he stepped between them to break it up. The owner had an awful temper and is an overall shitty person. The restaurant wasn’t even open yet, Boone was prepping the kitchen for the head chef.
The owner forgot he was there, and it was a mess.
“I bought Boone a drink, pulled the story out of him, and then helped him find a new job. He’s worked a few other places before he found this one. Most restaurants have busy hours, but he’s done here by two unless there’s a party to cater for. It lets him spend more time with his son.”
“I love that for him,” I say, trying to imagine Boone with a son.
“He’s three years old now, and has two other daddies. His mom passed away when he was six months old,” Silas sighs. “It happened not long after we met. She had cancer, insisted on stopping treatment when she got pregnant, and it spread quickly.”
My heart aches as I glance back at the restaurant. You never know the path others are walking.
“Something like that could have turned him into a sour son of a bitch, but not Boone,” he says, picking up his spoon. I try the soup as he does and have to admit Boone has a gift with food.
“He’s a magician,” I mumble as Silas grins.
“If I tell him you said that, he won’t fit through the doors, baby girl. I’m glad you’re enjoying it though.”
Shaking my head at the thought, I happily continue to polish off my food. My stomach gurgles with happiness, making me blush, and Silas pretends not to notice as he hides his smile.
After lunch, we walk through parts of the gardens we didn’t get to see, and my alpha pulls me into his arms behind a huge weeping willow. His fingers delve into my hair at the base of my skull, his favorite way to hold me, and I lift my face up to gaze at him.
Silas has a way of hiding how intense he is from the world. I’m not the only one who hides, but his is different. I’ve listened to him take calls, and though his face speaks volumes as to his anger and the air smells like we’re about to be struck by lightning, his voice is full of honey.
I’ve heard the saying “butter won’t melt in his mouth” often, and this phrase embodies Silas.
It has to be the reason he’s responsible for gathering grass roots votes for Lyle before he officially throws his name into the ring.
I asked Silas a few questions about the election, and he said the event he wants to hold at the gardens is to formally announce Lyle running for mayor.
Up until recently, Mayor Aletto has been getting ready to run unopposed. I’m glad Lyle decided to fuck up the mayor’s day. He deserves it if he thinks unhoused people need to be hidden away.
During my more uncharitable moments, I once asked Lyle how far he thought the mayor would go to “clean up” the streets. Avery and perhaps other auction houses are obviously preying on the homeless. If I wasn’t picked up by Jai’s pack, it might have been Avery instead.
There’s too much fucked up shit happening in this city to imagine city officials aren’t involved.
I’ve seen some of it happen while I was homeless, and I hear the conversations that happen in my home.
The veil of beauty holds a lot of darkness too, and a shiver crawls up my spine as I think more about it.
“Hey,” Silas murmurs. Blinking, I try to shake myself from my dark thoughts.
“I’m here.”
“You are now. Stay with me.”
His nose drags up my throat, breathing me in as I sigh. I’m wearing a skirt with a long sleeved shirt that says “have a day,” and it made Silas chuckle when he saw it online. He buys me adorable things as they cross his screen and then it magically comes to the door.
My Mary Jane shoes feel like clouds on my feet, and Silas sheepishly told me recently that he’s been adding inserts to all of my footwear.
Lyle shrugged and said they no longer question the crazy shit he does, but I have to admit it’s sweet.
After wearing shitty footwear or none at all, I prefer to be barefoot whenever possible.
Silas’ free hand moves up my torso until he’s cupping my breast, his thumb rubbing my nipple until I moan.
“I love your little sounds,” he breathes, licking my lips until I open for him. His kisses dissolve the world around me as I cling to him. He gives me a blessed reprieve from the chaos of my mind, and I do as I promised.
I stay. Grounded and happy in his arms.