Wolfsong (Green Creek 1)

“It’s okay,” I told her. “I got the rest.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

And she believed me because I didn’t lie. “Hungry?”

“Yeah. Can I have—”

The bell rang overhead. And a man walked in. He seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t think of where I’d seen him before. He was Gordo’s age and strong. And big. He had a full, light-colored beard. He brushed a hand over his shaved head. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He let it out slowly. He opened his eyes and I swear they flashed. But all I saw was blue again.

“Give me a second, Ox,” Mom said. She went to talk to the man and I did my best to look away. He was a stranger, yes, but there was something else. I thought on it as I took a sip from my coffee.

He sat at the booth next to mine. We faced each other. He smiled briefly at me. It was a nice smile, bright and toothy. Mom handed him a menu and told him she’d be back. I could already see Jenny peeking out from the kitchen, watching the man. She pushed her boobs up, ran her fingers through her hair, and grabbed the coffeepot. “I got this one,” she muttered. Mom rolled her eyes.

She was charming. The man smiled at her politely. She touched his hand, just a slight scrape of her fingernails. He ordered soup. She laughed. He

asked for cream and sugar for his coffee. She said her name was Jenny. He said he would like another napkin. She left the table looking slightly disappointed.

“Meal and a show,” I muttered. The man grinned at me like he’d heard.

“Figure out what you want, kiddo?” Mom asked as she came back to the table.

“Burger.”

“You got it, handsome.”

I smiled because I adored her.

The man looked at my mom as she walked away. His nostrils flared. Looked back at me. Cocked his head. Nostrils flared again. Like he was… sniffing? Smelling?

I copied him and sniffed the air. It smelled the same to me. Like it always did.

The man laughed and shook his head. “It’s nothing bad,” he said. His voice was deep and kind. Those teeth flashed again.

“That’s good,” I said.

“I’m Mark.”

“Ox.”

An eyebrow went up. “That so?”

“Oxnard.” I shrugged. “Everyone calls me Ox.”

“Ox,” he said. “Strong name.”

“Strong like an ox?” I suggested.

He laughed. “Heard that a lot?”

“I guess.”

He looked out the window. “I like it here.” So much more was said in those words, but I couldn’t even come close to grasping any of it.

“Me too. Mom said people don’t stay here.”

He said, “You’re here,” and it felt profound.