Page 4 of Jacob Michaels is Not Crazy

Oma was in the kitchen, talking to herself again when I walked in through the front door hours later. It was mid-afternoon and I hadn’t so much as gotten a text or call from her on my cell phone in the entire time that I had been gone since the previous afternoon. I closed the door gently behind myself, barely making a “clicking” sound as it shut. Standing in the entryway, I was barely breathing as I listened to the sounds coming from the kitchen. I could hear Lucas’ truck slowly pulling away from the house. And Oma was talking to…herself?

Lucas and I had had sex again. Okay. We had had sex again twice.

I don’t know why I had wanted to have sex with him again. Twice. But it felt right, so I did it. And it felt so very right both times. Then we had dressed again, got in his truck, and he drove me home in silence. He had tried talking to me about what it meant for us now that we had done all of the things we had done, but I was in no mood to dissect this new development. Lucas was a nice guy. I thought so, anyway. He was certainly fun to hang out with. And I…liked him, I thought. But there was no way that I was going to delve any deeper into it than that. So, that’s what I told him. I just wanted things to be as they were for now. I needed to go home and just be alone to think. To not be inundated with anyone else’s questions and concerns.

Quietly, I slid my shoes off next to the door and stepped away from them, sneaking across the entryway, past the stairs, through the living room, and towards the kitchen entryway. What was Oma talking about? Was she actually talking to someone else? What exactly was going on? And, could I even ask her about it without bringing up what Lucas had said about her? I had made a promise as Lucas and I had laid in his bed after having sex twice more. I had told him that I wouldn’t say anything to Oma about him saying that she was a witch. So…I would do my best to keep that promise. But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t do other things to show her that I was onto her and whatever it was going on inside of her house.

“He better be home safe and in one piece soon, ya’ little shit.” I heard Oma hissing. “Every second I wait is one more check against you. I’ll have your ass if there’s one hair out of place on his fuckin’ head, ya’ hear me?”

I frowned to myself as I stood just outside of the entryway, trying to figure out who Oma was talking to—if anyone at all. Was the old bag as crazy as I felt?

“I swear he’s fine.” I heard a familiar voice. “I’m not sure where he is, but I know that I didn’t hurt him.”

It was Andrew’s voice.

My eyes closed to slits as I listened.

“You better fuckin’ hope so.” Oma snapped. “How in the whole steamy pile of hell did you think it was okay to take my fuckin’ grandson out on the full moon in your condition?”

“I usually have myself under control, Mrs. Wagner.” Andrew peeped. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I’m pretty sure you know what the hell came over you, ya’ fuckin’ moron,” Oma growled. “Of all the fuckin’ idiot shit I’ve seen in my near seven decades. You oughta be ashamed of yourself.”

I did nothing to muffle my footsteps as I stepped into the entryway, finding Andrew seated at Oma’s kitchen table, his back to me. Oma was standing by the sink. When she saw me step into view, her eyes grew wide.

“What…exactly…came over him, Oma?” I asked, cocking my head to the side, smirking as Andrew jerked in his seat and spun to look at me. “A case of the handsy, furry douchebags?”

Andrew’s face was one big bruise. He had a cut along his lip and I was certain that, if it weren’t for the fresh clothes he had on, I’d see several bruises and abrasions smattered all over him. Getting hit by a truck will do that to a…werewolf…I supposed.

“Rob.” Andrew swallowed hard.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had crossed the space between myself and Andrew and punched him in the face. He fell out of the chair onto the linoleum floor and started scooting backwards and away from me. Oma threw her hands up in the air.

“Oh, just fuckin’ great.” Oma huffed. “Those kitchen chairs are older than any of us! Don’t you assholes break nothin’!”

“Really?!?” Andrew looked over at her as he backed into the wall, fear pouring off of him in waves.

“I care more about that kitchen set than you!” She put her hands on her hips and waggled her head. “It belonged to my grandmother.”

I turned to Oma as Andrew cowered against the wall. She twisted up her mouth in a half-frown as she examined me.

“Well…you look fine.” She said.

I stared at her for a very long time.

“Get him out of this house,” I stated firmly.

Oma gave me a look as though her first instinct was to tell me that she’d be damned if I told her what to do in her house and whom to do it with, but she finally rolled her eyes and looked over at Andrew.

“Ya’ heard him!” She shouted at Andrew. “Scat! Get the hell out of here. I’ll talk to you at the center, ya’ little shit. This isn’t over!”

Andrew scurried to his feet and dashed out of the back door, somehow managing to close it gently behind himself as he got far away from us. He must have parked near the back of the house because I hadn’t seen his car when Lucas had pulled up to the house. But I heard a car start up shortly after he ran out of the house, so I knew that he had to have his car nearby. Oma and I stared at each other as we stood in the kitchen, her with her hands on her hips and me with my hands clenched in fists at my sides.

“You. Crazy. Bitch.” I finally spoke once the sounds of Andrew’s car were in the distance.

“What did I do?” She threw her hands up.

I glared at her.