Shifting Boundaries

Extra: Family Life

Note: this takes place during the next book, Enforcing Boundaries.  It does not have any spoilers for Magnus' story and focuses purely on Everett / Felix / Griffin, so I thought it would fit better here.  

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Everett

I was in the kitchen making a PB&J sandwich with Griffin, who insisted on overseeing the whole process. He had lost all faith in Felix's sandwich-making abilities (apparently, Felix used too much jelly and didn't get the peanut butter all the way to the edges of the bread), so now Griffin was carefully watching and critiquing as I made him a new one.

If my mother were here, she'd swat at me with whatever was handy. I knew better than this. Giving into these kinds of edicts was only going to teach Griffin that he could be demanding and picky in the future and he'd get his way. I knew that. I was also exhausted after a late night with Felix and an early wake-up from Griffin, and frankly, I wasn't up for a fight. I'd do better next time, I promised myself as I carefully slathered an even layer of peanut butter all the way to the edges of the bread.

"No! Not on the crust!" Griffin protested. With a sigh, I smudged off the bit of peanut butter that went out of bounds.

"Next time, you're making your own sandwich," I said. I had meant to make a statement, to show him that he couldn't just boss me around. Instead, Griffin absolutely lit up.

"I make this one," he said, and held his hand out for the butter knife.

And while this normally would have registered as the terrible idea it was, I really was tired and the idea of him trying to make his own sandwich was adorable. I passed him the butter knife and watched as Griffin clumsily stuck it into the peanut butter jar and came out with a clump of peanut butter on the top of the knife instead of on the side. He dragged it across the bread, shredding it and messing up the even layer of peanut butter I had already applied. Griffin didn't seem to care, though. He dipped the knife back into the peanut butter and smeared it on the bread two more times before reaching for the jelly.

"Let me get the peanut butter off the knife first," I said before he could stick it in. Already, the peanut butter jar was full of little scraps of shredded bread. I might at least preserve the integrity of the jelly.

Felix came in while Griffin lathered jelly onto the other piece of bread and froze. He lifted a brow at me, and I could see the amusement in his eyes. "You weren't good enough at sandwich construction either?" he asked.

I frowned at him and turned back to Griffin, who had an absolutely massive clump of jelly in the center of his sandwich. He didn't seem to care. He tossed the knife onto the counter – splattering the clean counters – and picked up the jellied bread to put it on the peanut buttered one. The clump slid off when he turned the jellied bread over, splashing onto the carrot sticks already on his plate, and when the two pieces of bread came together, they were so crooked I had a hard time not straightening them. The only thing that stopped me was Griffin's beaming smile and the undeniable pride in his eyes when he looked up at me.

"I did it!" he cheered.

"You did!" I agreed. And truthfully, it was an impressive effort for someone so young.

Felix snatched Griffin up off the chair he'd been kneeling on and swung him around. "How are you already so grown up?" he asked as Griffin giggled and squealed.

"Pop! I eat!"

"Oh, sorry. Of course," Felix said with mock seriousness. He set Griffin back down on his seat at the dining room table and pulled me to the kitchen.

"Everything okay?" I asked when all the cheer and amusement quickly faded from his eyes.

"Molly called me this morning," he said. "She gave me the phone number for Neruda's alpha, Carlos. He got in touch with her and requested that we call him. Both of us."