Page 24 of Tempest

Goddess no.

He didn’t know if there was a damn thing he would say no to if Cash offered. But this was enough. It had to be.

He drifted off to sleep, praying that his memory stayed away for a while longer.

Chapter 8

Cash

“He was sobbing so hard I could barely understand him, but then he shoved the thing right up to my face and said, ‘Why isn’t it healing, Papa?’” Pops grinned at him from across the table before turning back to Ore and continuing to regale him with a story from Cash’s youth. It wasn’t the first, but it may have been the most humiliating. “He used to call me Papa until he got too old and too cool. That’s when I became Pops. It stuck, and now, pretty much everyone in the pack calls me that.”

Ore smiled widely, his eyes dancing as he glanced between the two of them. “I like Pops. It fits you.”

Cash grumbled under his breath and took another bite of spaghetti, pretending like he wasn’t embarrassed by his grandfather doing the verbal equivalent of bringing out his baby pictures. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t expected it since Pops loved telling stories about Cash as a cub to all of his friends—or really anyone who would listen. But it felt different, sitting there and listening to the familiar retellings of the time Cash had gotten into a fight with Saint over a favorite toy or when he’dspent a week pretending to be a frog, as Ore laughed in delight and gasped in all the appropriate spots.

Not bad different. Just… vulnerable different. Like Ore would judge him as unworthy. Unworthy of what exactly? He wasn’t letting himself think about that.

“So anyway,” Pops continued, waving his fork in the air, “I had to try and explain to four-year-old Cash that not every animal in the world was a shifter, and sometimes when they got hurt, they didn’t get better.”

Ore’s face dimmed. “Did the bird die?”

“Oh, no,” Pop said, grinning, “not with my special little helper assisting me as I worked to keep him alive and healthy until his wing was better.” He turned a softer smile on Cash. “I’d never seen Cash cry like he did when that bird flew away.”

“Alright,” Cash muttered, taking a swig of his beer. “Let’s change the topic.”

Ore snickered under his breath, daintily eating some of his own spaghetti. He’d cut up the noodles into tiny pieces and was using a spoon to scoop them up. In response to Cash’s staring at the process at the beginning of the meal, Ore had just shrugged and claimed he didn’t like getting messy from the long noodles.

It was oddly endearing to Cash, but he did his best to ignore the way his body warmed with affection. After the last few days of the two of them being holed up together, it was getting more and more difficult.

“Whatever you say, son,” Pops said, still grinning like the devil he was. “I heard yesterday that nobody’s seen you since Ore here arrived.” He raised his bushy gray brows at him. “Are you keeping this young man under lock and key?”

Cash bit back a groan. That was not the change in subject he’d wanted, considering Ore had barely made it a single day before starting to ask when they could get out from inside the four walls of Cash’s house. He claimed it wasn’t natural for birdsto be cooped up like that, and while Cash empathized—since he was going a little stir-crazy himself—his orders were to keep an eye on the eagle until he was ready to go on his way. Letting him wander around the rest of the pack in their tiny town just seemed like a recipe for getting people upset.

Ore gave him a look before staring down at his plate once more, pushing his food around instead of eating. His uncertain scent poked at Cash’s panther, urging him to make everything better.

Cash sighed. “The door isn’t locked, but I thought it’d be for the best if we stayed here.”

His grandfather huffed at him, setting his utensils down and pointing a finger bent with arthritis at him. “Cash Lawson, you listen to me. This man is not a prisoner. He is our guest. Now, you take him somewhere that isn’t this house. Let him stretch his dang legs, son.”

Ore beamed at the old man.

His panther didn’t appreciate the scolding. No matter how old he got or how high he rose in the pack, he’d always see his grandfather as the head of their family. Disappointing him was almost as bad as disappointing his alpha.

“I’ll check with Liam,” he said and turned back to his pasta. “We should visit with Fern anyway. Have her check you over.”

Ore nodded. “Whatever gets me outside.”

Pops beamed at him with pride, easing his panther’s agitation. They finished eating without any more embarrassing stories, Pops filling him in on pack gossip instead. He’d already heard most of it from Saint and Rachel, but Pops liked to put a dramatic flair to the way he shared things, so he didn’t mind. Ore seemed happy and entertained as well, despite not knowing who Pops was talking about.

After dinner, the three of them sat in the living room for a bit, the evening news on in the background. Pops turned a bitnostalgic, telling Ore about his late mate. Cash didn’t contribute much, his heart aching at her loss even after all these years. It didn’t take long before Pops started wearing out, the pauses in his stories growing longer.

Cash offered him his room back for the night, not liking the idea of him driving back to Martha’s while he was so tired, but he waved him off. “I’m not so old yet I can’t drive in the dark. Stop your fussing.”

He hugged Cash tightly, running his palm down his neck in a quick scenting. Then, he surprised Cash and Ore by pulling the eagle into an embrace as well.

“Don’t let Cash be too grumpy,” he stage-whispered, planting a hand on the top of Ore’s shoulder. It was as close as he could get without actually scenting him, something usually reserved only for packmates.

Ore swallowed and nodded, standing a little straighter under the light touch. “I’ll do my best, Pops.”

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