I’ve shopped for food before, but only to grab a quick meal during a mission. The idea of building up a stash of groceries to last across multiple days, even weeks… and there are so many different options I’ve never tried…
I guess regular people have their whole lives to figure out what they like and don’t, so they can casually stroll through a place like this and chuck stuff in their basket without even thinking about it.
Staying away from the frozen stuff seems like a good idea right now, considering we don’t even have a fridge. I pull myself away from the tubs of ice cream and meander to the pre-prepared food section, where at least everything is already organized into a full meal instead of separate ingredients.
Jacob stalks by and pulls a loaf of bread off the shelf behind me. My skin tingles with his passing, the sensation sharpening into prickles that dig deeper inside.
My limbs have felt shakier ever since he checked me over for hidden devices. Little aches have formed in my joints and in the back of my skull, not quite the same as the pangs and twinges set off by his poison.
But I’m not going to act like a liability. I won’t go begging Dominic to heal me up yet.
For however much longer Jacob keeps his stick up his ass when it comes to trusting me, I need to be more prepared. I need to adjust to this new normal of physical discomforts so they don’t slow me down if we end up in another fight.
So I’m never again tempted to let out that shrieking, vicious thing inside me.
If I had, even if I managed to focus it completely on our attackers, what would the guys have thought of me after? Once I started to wonder that, I couldn’t shake the question.
None of them are happy with their own talents. I don’t think they’d appreciate an even more horrible one from the girl they already see as a traitor.
Please, let this Ursula Engel woman know something that will help us turn back to normal. Or at least closer to normal. I can live with retractable cat claws and a sensitivity to bodily chemicals.
I pick up some premade sandwiches that look vaguely appealing, a smile crossing my face when I catch sight of one stuffed almost to bursting with three different kinds of deli meat. I wave it in Zian’s direction where he’s just come around the aisle toward me. “This one’s obviously for you.”
His gaze latches onto it, and an answering smile springs to his lips for just a second before his mouth flattens again. He pushes on past me without a word.
My heart sinks. Okay, after last night’s battle, maybe reminding him of his carnivorous tastes wasn’t the best call.
Naturally, I turn around and catch Jacob glaring at me as if he thinks I was rubbing the subject in Zian’s face on purpose.
I resist the urge to grimace back at him and meander farther down the aisle to the snacks and desserts.
Memories of past group meals flit through my head. A little of my good mood returns as I snatch up a box of chocolate fudge brownies and a bag of coconut macarons.
We meet up near the counter, and Jacob looks over my selections with a scowl but no complaints. I hope he remembers that I’m the one who provided the money so we can do this shopping at all.
Back at the car, we drop the bags in the trunk. Andreas hits the gas the second we’re all inside, me crammed to one side next to Dominic and Jacob. It’d make more sense for me to take the middle seat given how much smaller I am than even slender Dom, but apparently Jacob can’t stand the thought of so much as brushing up against me.
About a half hour outside the little town, Andreas veers down a scruffy lane and parks on the shoulder. We pile out to eat picnic-style in a secluded overgrown field. Zian does take the particularly meaty sandwich, I notice with a flicker of triumph.
I grab the two desserts and carry them over to our circle too, with a gesture toward Dominic. “Since you’ve got the real sweet tooth, I figured you should get to pick which we have today and which we save.”
Dominic glances up at me, startled in a way that’s mostly gratifying.
The other guys haven’t bothered with desserts when we were eating at the townhouse, probably because Jacob was in charge of the shopping and focused on practicalities. But I haven’t forgotten how Dom’s face used to light up when the guardians would include cookies or chocolates with our shared lunches.
Now, he hesitates and seems to draw into himself a little more, like he can merge with the parka he’s switched back to wearing despite the warming weather as we veer south.
“Thanks,” he says without meeting my eyes again, as if it costs him something to accept.
I set my offerings down in the grass in the middle of our circle and sit down to take a bite of my ham and cheese sandwich, but my stomach has condensed into a solid lump.
Maybe I was too distant with them before, too cool and stubborn. Too focused on my own sense of practicalities and not considering the turmoil they’re obviously dealing with.
But I’m trying every way I can think of to show them that the friendship we shared hasn’t died, and nothing I do seems to be going right.
It shouldn’t be this hard. We’re blood; we have each other’s backs. We always did.
How the hell did Brooke manage to hit it off with all those friends just by hanging out and talking with them?