Chapter 73

Grace

I woke up to the blaring noise of the smoke alarm, disoriented and slightly panicked. I jumped out of bed, barely grabbing the robe I kept in Charles' room before I rushed downstairs towards the source of the smoke. I grabbed the fire extinguisher and hoped it wasn't expired as I reached the kitchen.

"Damn it," Jackson cursed. "Shut up!"

My shoulders slumped as there was no fire, and I realized that Jackson was back to ruining our kitchen. Smoke was billowing out of the oven, filling the kitchen with an acrid, burnt smell that made me cough. Amidst the smoke, I could see Jackson frantically waving a dish towel at the alarm, clearly trying to silence it, though he hadn't turned off the oven or turned on the exhaust fan, opened a window, or anything!

"Jackson!" I called out, my voice both irritated and concerned. I pressed my arm to my face and turned on the exhaust fan. My eyes watered from the smoke as I ducked under a thick plume of it and opened the window. I went searching for a box fan to help pull the smoke out of the house before throwing open the back doors. The early morning chill was bracing, but the fresh, clean air was exactly what I needed.

"What on earth are you doing?"

He turned towards me, his face a mixture of guilt and panic. "Grace, I, uh... I tried to make breakfast."

I shook my head as the smoke started to clear. There was a carton of eggs on the counter, a few bowls, and a package of bacon that had been cut open, even though I was pretty sure Charles only bought bacon from a butcher's shop. I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. It was déjà vu from high school. My father had been panicked and good-natured about it then.

"You still haven't made friends with bacon, have you?"

He huffed. "I was baking it this time... It was supposed to be easier."

I checked the temperature and turned off the stove now that it was a bit easier to see.

"Dad would say stick to what you're good at--cereal and milk."

He laughed. The smoke alarm finally stopped its shrill noise, and the air cleared. I opened the oven to let out the heat and the rest of the smoke.

"You know, Charles is a fantastic cook. Maybe you should just let him do it."

Jackson's expression shifted, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Charles, huh? Business consultant Charles?" He narrowed his eyes at me. "Staying here? Your kids calling him uncle?"

I blinked. "The one and the same--"

He leaned back, a petulant expression on his face as he crossed his arms.

"And how long is that going to last? Where is he now with his fancy cooking? Not here, is he?"

I titled my head, narrowing my eyes at him before opening the oven and realizing that there was, in fact, another tray beneath the tray that held the smoking remains of the bacon.

"You left the tray that was in there... that was full of breakfast." I sighed.

"No, I didn't."

"Jackson, unless you were baking two trays of bacon, you did."

I gestured in, and he didn't even glance. "Well, who the hell leaves food in the oven anyway?"

"Someone who cooks and wants it to stay warm." I eyed him. Part of me knew that there was no way Charles had left the food in a cold oven. He would have left it on Warm the way he always did.

Jackson had done this on purpose. But why ruin a perfectly good breakfast?

"Well, so sorry, I'm out doing real work instead of learning how to cook. You can expect me to stay out until he's gone," he narrowed his eyes. "And you never said how long that would be."

Jackson's questions about Charles and his stay only served to rile me up further. I wasn't in the mood to be interrogated, especially about Charles, and I felt a rising irritation at his probing.

"Jackson," I retorted, "I don't have a tracking device on Charles. He comes and goes as he needs to, and as for how long he'll be staying, I don't have that information either."

"No need to get snippy. I just asked a question." His defensiveness didn't help the situation. "It's not my fault he left food in the oven like an idiot."

"You have a lot of fucking nerve, you irresponsible, petulant child."

My heart lurched at the snarl in Margaret's voice. I turned as Margaret entered. Her eyes glowed. I could see the anger etched across her face, even as she seemed pale and shaky.

"You little plebe--"

"Margaret--"

"--throwing a tantrum because you aren't getting any attention." She slammed her hand down. "Endangering people's lives and wasting resources in some pathetic bid for it. I--"

"Margaret, just--"

"--have had enough of you, and you," she glanced at me. "For continuing to put up with this behavior."

"I'll handle it."

She scoffed and looked back at Jackson. "You don't know a spatula from an oven. Stick to your instant bullshit or eat the food that's already been prepared. If those children end up harmed because of you, I'm going to paint the floor with you and send what's left to your parents in a shoebox."

I swallowed and edged between the two of them, blocking Margaret's view of him as she started to twitch and her fingernails lengthened into claws. She wasn't wearing her robe or anything over the thin nightgown that clung to her from sweat. She must have had one hell of a nightmare due to the smoke.

"Margaret, please, take a deep breath. It's alright... Everyone is just fine. Everyone will be just fine."

I watched her nails retract to their normal length, and I swallowed the bit of anxiety welling in me. Margaret lost her family in a house fire that had been set on purpose years ago by someone she thought was her friend. I don't know what happened to that man, but she lost her husband, her children, her family home, and nearly her life that night.

"He didn't start the fire on purpose."

Margaret's jaw twitched, and she turned. "He certainly didn't ensure that it wouldn't happen either. Idiot."

Margaret left, and as soon as I heard her heading up the stairs, I took a deep breath of relief. I turned back to look at Jackson as he sneered after her.

"So it is true that lycans can't even control themselves," Jackson scoffed. "I should have known from the first time we met. Grace, you'd be better off getting rid of her. I'm sure there are a ton of brilliant, credentialed, werewolf scientists who are leaps and bounds ahead of her in the field."

I blinked at him, floored.

"Don't even get me started on that witch--"

"Shut up," I said. He flinched. "It's Dr. Margaret Thompson is a leader and pioneer in her field. She helped develop the very injury balm you used to use in high school when you got hurt on the field."

He flushed. "Thompson's Bruise and Sprain?"

"That's her," I said. "Lycan heritage has no bearing on talent, intelligence, or control. She survived a house fire, Jackson. You triggered her." I took a deep breath. "And she is right. You don't know a spatula from an oven, and if harmed because you can't control your emotions and impulses, I'll mop the floor with you and send you to your parents in a jar."

Jackson stomped out of the kitchen with a snide, "Well, see if I try to do anything nice for you again."

I was so relieved, even as I looked into the oven and sighed. I pulled the trays out and pouted. From the smoldering shapes, it could have been some of that good bacon from the butcher and pancakes. I tossed the trays in the trash and went to the cabinet to grab the cereal, only to find it gone and replaced with Jackson's favorite.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure and remembering why I couldn't kill my best friend.

Or rather, why I shouldn't.

I ended up scraping together something that resembled breakfast for me and Cecil. It was pathetic. Then, Eason showed up with breakfast enough for the three of us. I fed Richard, and I went to class less irritated. That evening, I went to Wolfe Medical to the secure conference room on the upper floor. Margaret was a stone statue, gripping her mug. Her eyes glowed as she glared across the table at Jackson. I almost groaned. She had definitely heard his insensitive remarks earlier, and while she had made no direct mention of it, her attitude was enough.

I settled at the head of the table and pulled out my notes.

"Thanks for coming," I said politely. "Now that the patent has been--"

The door opened, and I looked up to see who it was.

"Starting without me?"

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3 chaps have been released. Happy reading!

And 7 chaps will be released this week.