The Orphan Mate

In Our Head

*GRAYSON POV*

When I woke up today, my wolf, Cole, was stirring. He smells something delicious. Vanilla. It’s her. Chloe. She smells something delicious good lately. Shes always had that warm vanilla smell, but this is better. And I have hunch why. I don’t want to think about it, but Cole suggested it last week.

*maybe she our mate? She’s not 18 so I can’t tell if she is, but she is different. We’ve always had a soft spot for her. Maybe we should be nicer to her*

After he said that, that’s all I’ve been thinking about. Cole said he was contemplating it do a long time but wasn’t sure how he felt about the thought. My brothers and I have been not very nice to her. I’m the nicest to her out of them all. But there’s just this ‘thing’ we all have with her. I like her. Have for a long time. When we were kids, and my brothers weren’t around, we’d walk around the forest on a worn down path behind the house, and if there was a scary sound, she’d get scared and grab my hand. I wouldn’t fight her to loosen my hand from hers. One day we held hands, and my brothers showed up early, back from training and saw us holding hands. I had to push her down and make it look like she forced to hold her hand with me. Called her a baby for being scared and finding comfort in holding my hand. The look on her face read devastated and humiliated. She couldn’t hide her emotions on her face like she’s does now. After that day, she stopped holding my hand. And it wasn’t a good feeling. It was our little thing, and I squashed it like a bug. The thought of it makes Cole whimper.

*we’re such jerks*

I try to shake off the thought. It’s in the past. But since then, we never held hands again. I’ve hugged her a few odd times but she was very suspicious about it. I don’t blame her. Best hug I’ve ever had. I think she was scared it was a set up or my brothers would walk in on it. I get dressed and mind link my brothers. They’re up too and we start going down the hallway, Luke talking about some girl he went on a date with. We come down the stairs, and stop talking. I look at her. Standing there. Like a wall ornament. Silent. She looks tired. My poor Chloe. Makes my heart ache. I know she’s hungry too. She always is when she watches us eat. I feel bad, but it’s not up to me. That’s mom’s fault. She’s kind of a b***h but I can’t do anything until our alpha ascension in a week. She looks morose. I feel a pang in my chest. Tomorrow is her birthday. And she looks so solemn the day before. I push the thought out as I see the spread she made. It’s always delicious. She is so detailed oriented and strives for perfection. I wanted to compliment her but I don’t want suspicion that I like her. I come up with something mean, as much as it pains me.

Grayson: “Where are the bagels?”

She replies and I try to keep a blank face. I feel bad that I have to be a jerk, but I have to. We talk, and she ends up caving and makes the bagels. Not even a fight. Chloe does push back. She does have consequences to her defiance, but that’s her choice. We finish eating and all I can think about is how she won’t get to eat too. I don’t touch the eggs. I also hope she is able to eat some of the bagels she makes. Time goes by, and I hear the oven go off. They’re done. The fresh bagel aroma hits my nose as I walk into the kitchen. Chloe is standing there, chewing, but I don’t call it out. I see the side of her jaw clench as she tries to cover the evidence she had one. I approach, and hear a swallow. Sneaky little thing. I study her face. She is so pretty in a simple way. She has light skin, with some freckles, and dark brown wavy curly hair she braided back to keep hair out the food. Little wisps frame her face and she is focused on the dishes. I know, that she knows, that I’m staring at her. I don’t care.

Grayson: “The bagels smell so nice.” Her jaw ticks and I know I caught her off guard.

Chloe: “That’s kind of you to say.” She doesn’t even look at me. Please look at me. She looks like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I don’t say a rude remark to her reply. I just keep my eyes on her face. My brothers are at the island in the middle of the kitchen, admiring the fresh bagels she made.

Asher: “I could smell them across the house.” He grabs a bagel and bites into it, making a mhm sound. She slows down while washing the same plate she’s stuck on ‘washing’.

Chloe: “Uh-th-thank you, Asher. Very kind of you as well”. She blinks a few times in a row and snaps back into focus on the dish, gives it a rinse, and places it in the dish rack to drip dry. Grabbing the next dish like its natural rhythm of repetition she’s done countless times. She has done dishes dozens and dozens and dozens of time. I feel bad again. I don’t let it show. I give a small nod and leave beside her. I grab a bagel and take a bite. Heavenly. We all mind link, to leave her alone all together, and go our separate ways. I go to my room, cleaning up what I can. I sit down on my bed and eat the bagel. I made her make them on purpose. So she could eat too. I would count them later to see if she really did eat.

*BLAKE POV*

I feel horrible. About breakfast. I knew what Cole was doing with the bagel thing. He knew she would make extra and she could eat. Mom and dad ended up eating all of food, on purpose. We all noticed. Cole was a step ahead. Her bags are bomb. We left the kitchen, and I went to my room. I like to do arts and crafts. As fruity as it sounds. It’s a nice creative outlet. I’m into a bunch of things. Currently I’ve been digitally drawing on my iPad. iPad. Something she doesn’t even have. I think about the shabby little room she’s sleeping in. And it disgusts me. I’m also the meanest to her. But I can’t help it. I actually like Chloe. Mom and dad would never allow it. So I pick on her. It’s gotten harsher over the years. But it’s a way of controlling her emotions. I feel like an ass when she cries. She’s so strong. She’s taken beatings meant for rogues, like a champ. I talk to my wolf, Zane, about her. But he’s a softie. I’m the jerk.

*ASHER POV*

I left the kitchen, lingered by the kitchen to watch what she’d do. She kept doing the dishes. Then I saw it, the red eyes. She was fighting tears. I left quickly, light on my feet, zoomed up to my room and waited. Her room is the closest to mine. I hear her. Mainly her cries. A lot. She talks to herself sometimes too. I want to comfort her, but I can’t.