Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 209

Chapter 209: Grace: Commando

One tiny jar of applesauce can make an enormous mess.

It’s bathed half the living room, the ceiling, a toddler, and a dog. The cat, miraculously, escaped. Jer and Sara were lucky enough to be on the far side of the room.

One awkward water-conserving shower later is when I realize no one’s kept up with the laundry.

Bun has no clean clothes. Zero. Zilch. She’s now running around naked with a diapered bottom, Ron’s missing, and I’m out of underwear.

"Where’s Ron?"

"Outside," Jer says, fiddling with the TV remote. Now that we’re hooked up to electricity, the RV has full wi-fi access via something-or-another and they’re browsing the TV, arguing on the merits of turtles with access to samurai swords versus kids bitten by radioactive spiders and acquiring superhuman prowess.

"Why is he outside?" I ask sharply, even though it feels a little weird to be upset with a kid barely younger than me. How am I supposed to discipline him? Bend him over my knee and spank him? Yeah, right.

But still, he shouldn’t be outside—

"He’s talking to Caine," Sara continues, snatching the remote from Jer.

"Hey! Give it back!"

"No way."

I peer through the window to check and sure enough, Ron’s sitting on the camper steps. Caine’s in front of him, arms crossed and a stern expression on his face. Is he berating the teenager?

Seems like it.

My first instinct is to bolt outside. Whatever’s happening between them, Ron shouldn’t be facing Caine alone. He might be tall and overly responsible, but he’s still just a kid.

Then an air conditioning-propulsed breeze hits my legs, and I remember my current predicament. No underwear, which is not exactly prime intervention attire.

It’s amazing how much confidence a pair of panties can bring your way. Try walking around in public without them.

If it doesn’t feel any different, kudos to you, but me? I feel naked.

"Jer, Sara, keep an eye on Bun for a second," I call over my shoulder, not waiting for their response.

"We’re busy!" Jer protests, still wrestling with Sara over the remote.

"She’s eating paper," Sara adds casually, not even looking at the toddler.

I whip around to see Bun happily shredding what appears to be tissues, as evidenced by the bright green Kleenex box beside her.

Damn.

"Come on, guys. Watch her. Just—don’t let her choke, okay? Two minutes."

chorus with identical

behind me, desperate to find my last bit of

from the bathroom interrupts

mutter. Sadie. I’d completely

applesauce off her tail. The

longer, girl," I call through the door. "As soon

accusatory. I can sense it. I may not be a professional dog trainer, but this whine definitely says something like Can you hurry up? I’m dying in

not my fault Bun decided to use applesauce as a projectile weapon. Give me a bit and I’ll

drawers, looking for underwear. My last clean pair is apparently victim of

crisis levels, and I

of the Year.

I accrue in a day? I’m probably going to end up in the

in the drawers is an assortment of lace, silk, and what appears to be something made entirely of straps, and none of it is mine. I close

and hair dye, but we are absolutely not panty-sharing close. There are

drawers I’ve stolen as my own are nearing

have to

small and give me serious muffin

There’s probably a metaphor for my life somewhere in that. And it’s unlikely

smell the absence of

would make

still damp thanks to the

Let’s go outside and

Her tail droops.

* * *

"Ouch!"

doorway like a golden torpedo, slamming the door wide enough to crack

find Ron scowling at me, one hand rubbing the back of his head where the door must have connected. His dark eyes narrow with teenage affront, and I smile

"Sorry..."

the chaos she’s caused, bounds down the camper steps and side-steps Caine

issues," Ron mutters, dropping his

certainly behaves like she’s mine, even if she technically belonged to a pair of weird old people

to be discovered by some hapless camper in the future. Granted, they keep saying Doris and her husband

is

I know him well enough now to read the tension

not really rocket science—the frown on his face

point at the unconscious Lycan several feet away and bring up the most pressing issue at

gaze locks

I’m not

I’m hiding anything—I’m not, I swear—but because

Well, let’s be honest.

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