A werewolf's life is a constant battle, but a chance to meet your soulmate eases the trials for most. Trae is happy with the mate he's given, a cute and daring girl who meets all of his expectations, but his brother Leroy... not so much. He is sure...
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It was nice to have Shaun taking care of me at first.
After about two days, it was starting to get ridiculous. Annoyingly ridiculous. His idea of dinner was just instant ramen, and his excuse for it was that Korean people ate it all the time and they were still alive. I didn't think he realized the ramen alone didn't make a meal. That you were supposed to add things like meat and vegetables if you wanted it to have any nutritional value. I also had to explain to him that werewolves had a much faster metabolism than humans, and I couldn't afford to eat junk food when I was recovering from an injury. Thankfully, that convinced him enough to let Trae take over.
I was surprised by how much time Shaun was spending at my house. He'd told me he was taking a gap year and planned on going back to college, but it seemed like he was just waiting for the year to end without making any sort of plans. He confirmed my suspicions when I asked him if he had a job. He did not.
"Shouldn't you try to save up or something?" I asked.
"Nah. My parents are well off—well, my dad is. He works for some, like, tech company or something. And I can probably get an I'm-not-white scholarship."
I snorted. "Do you know what you wanna do?"
"No idea."
"Well, I think you should get a job, anyway. You could use the experience."
"You're just trying to kick me out of the house."
I pursed my lips, then told him, "Yeah, I am. Look, I'm going back to work tomorrow, so—"
"You're going back tomorrow?" He looked at my leg. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. I need the money and I like working there, so I'm going as soon as I can, which is tomorrow. My leg will be fine."
He narrowed his eyes. "Hmm . . . well, if you can go to work, I guess I can try to find a job. But I'm not making any promises! If I don't get hired, it's not my fault."
"Isn't it?"
"Ha-ha."
"I'm not joking."
"Oh, fuck off."
I laughed and pushed him off the couch. "Go home. I wanna get an early night."
— · —
When I entered the restaurant the next day, it was a madhouse. The chef who was scheduled to work with me tonight was yelling at one of the waitresses, who ran from one end of the kitchen to the other with a phone in her hand, while another waitress stood in the doorway to the restaurant looking like a bomb had exploded.
