Embry's POV
I hadn't realize I fell asleep till a loud knock lands down hard against the windshield. I jolt awake, already falling back asleep, but another knock against the driver's side feels like it's banging against my head.
"I'm up, I'm up, I'm up." I groan, sitting up. When I see Winnie standing outside my car in the mouth of Old Lady Enola's driveway, I'm not sure if I'm still dreaming or not. She's not in her usual uniform, instead wearing gray cotton pajamas, slippers with a hoodie thrown on to keep the light trickle of rain off her.
"Mhm, mornin'," I yawn, lowering the window, smelling in the damp earth.
"Embry, what are you doing here?" Winnie asks, her arms crossed paired with that worried look on her face.
"I'm here to take you to work." I explain, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. When I first pulled up to pick up Winnie the sky was still dark, but now I have to blink at how the lighten the cloudy gray sky is now. Shit, I hope I didn't sleep so long she's late. "You're not ready yet?"
"It's my day off. I don't work on Thursdays." Winnie explains, looking sorry.
"Oh," I blink. "Oh shit, sorry. I, ugh, wasn't sure if you needed a ride. I'm gonna head home then, sorry again." I say, putting the van in reverse.
"Embry," Winnie stops me before I pull out. "Embry wait. You came all the way out here."
"Don't sweat it. I don't live that far. Whole small town thing." I shrug.
"No Embry. You don't have to take me work anymore."
"Your car is in the shop."
"And I'll get around, don't worry. You don't have to keep driving me around. You've already done so much in the last few days. I'll figure it out, so please, you don't have to—"
"I want to." I interject. Her mouth clamps shut, her lips pressing into a firm line. Just as a pink hue starts to dust over her cheeks, she ducks away.
"You're already here. Why don't you come in for a few minutes. I'll feel better if you drink some coffee before you go home." Winnie offers, but I can't tell if she really wants me to come in or if she's just being nice. She doesn't have to repay me, or make us even, or make it up to me or whatever. The idea that she thinks she does doesn't sit well with me.
"Come on, Embry, you fell asleep in your car. Please let me give you some coffee. I'll serve it just like you take it at the diner." She convinces me, looking relieved when I park the van. We don't say much during The walk up to Old Lady's Enola's house. The only sound being the sound of our shoes crunching against the gravel.
"It's out back," Winnie comments, leading me towards the back yard. The closer we get to her place, the tenser her boney shoulders set. "It's not much."
I want to ask about why she moved in with Old Lady Enola. I remember Winnie use to live at her aunt's house across the res most of her life. I only remember because growing up Winnie's aunt was known as the hottest parent/guardian. I know she hated how most of the boys in our grade had a huge crush on her young aunt, it made her miserable when her aunt picked her up from school. Though, I'm fully aware that Winnie isn't an open book. She keeps to herself, doesn't say much, doesn't like to stick out, and absolutely doesn't open up much. So I don't ask, and I can tell how much she appreciates me not asking from the way she loosens her crossed arms.
At first, I swore it was an old out house from the original farm house. Then, I confused it for a rundown shed. No, it was a cabin. A narrow, tight cabin that looks older than Enola's house out front. It's pushed back into the woods, right where the neat lawn starts to shift into the overgrown forest line.
I can tell it doesn't meet proper zoning laws by the way the foundation sticks out so much, most likely built generations ago by Enola's great grandfather. But if the foundation wasn't so out the house probably couldn't stand or be slanted. The wood is worn, but I can see the craft mans ship in it, no cheap machine pressed wood, but real wood that was cut down from a nearby tree, then sanded down by hand. There's not many windows, all I can see is two facing the front, right above the door and another besides it, where a stoop is what greets people when they enter. It looks two story, but so narrow I know my neck will be hurting when I leave.
Winnie has to shove her weight against the door to open it. It creaks when she pushes it open, with the locks groaning stubbornly as she twists them to unlock. I have to bite my lip from asking her if she wants me come back to oil the hinges or help install a better lock, because I know Winnie would refuse.
Maybe because it's me. Maybe she can't accept my help unless she has no other option. Or maybe she doesn't take help easily. When she's working at the diner she helps everybody else without being asked, always the first one to help the cook at the grill, always picks someone else's up shifts, clears tables despite if it's not even in her section or carries the big plates for her coworkers. Always, but never once have I seen her ask someone for help.
"Watch your head," she warns, letting me in. The cabin is bigger on the inside than the outside. The first few steps into the front room are just as tight as you expect, but then it opens up into a decent size. The kitchen and living room are a shared space. Most of the cabin is the kitchenette, and you can see the whole cabin from the door.
Wasn't much was understatement. It's just near bare. The walls and floors are all wood. There's no appliances or cabinets, just a green countertop and some shelves with mugs and stacks of plates. Across from the kitchenette is her seating area where the couch takes up what's left of the space.
"This is the cabin from Snow White and the seven dwarfs, isn't it?" I say, my eyes tracing up the pole of the wood burning furnace up into the ceiling. I saw the pipe on the roof outside and it was pointy just like a story book picture.
"That's generous." The corner of her mouth twitches as if she wants to grin.
"It's cozy." I say, seeing the wooden ladder leading up to the second floor. Maybe a den, but most likely a crawl space.
"It's the bare necessities." Winnie says.
"It's cozy." I insist. "It's yours, and that's all that matters."
"Where do you sleep?" I ask, being sure not to bump into anything.
"The back." She says, pointing towards a French door that I thought lead back outside. I take a glance, finding her bedroom. It's the same wooden room as the rest of the cabin. Just as cramped as the rest of the cabin, all that fits is a night table then her bed, which is a mattress fitted into the alcove of a window seat. She must wake up every morning bathing in sun.
"Here," she hands me a piping hot mug. I didn't even realize she made me coffee. The cabin is so interesting I didn't even notice. "Four sugars and a bit of cream."
"Thank you." I nod, taking a big sip. We hover in the middle of the kitchen uncomfortably, unsure what to say or where to stand. We've probably talked more in the last day than we have spoken in the last four years, and that was mostly her taking my order and over her car. Winnie waves me to sit down, watching me tensely while I carefully lower down onto her couch, sitting stiffly and at the edge of the cushion.
"I have some pop tarts, do you want some?" She offers, struggling for something to say.
"I'll never say no to food." I'm always hungry, but I came straight here after patrol, I'm just about starving.
"I hope you're okay with cinnamon flavor." She says, handing me the foiled pack. She bulks when I eat both in two bites.
"How... how do you eat so much?"
"I, err, chew like everyone else." I mumble.
"No one eats as much as you do." She points out, then thinks better of it. "Except your friends. Whenever you all come to the Lodge you clean us out."
"Yeah, we're a hungry group." We're a pack of werewolves, each of us has about three stomachs.
"All of you work for Sam Uley?" She questions, and I try not to give anything away.
"Yeah. Sort of." I shrug, feeling my eyes drift anywhere but Winnie's eyes. She has the no nonsense gaze that makes it impossible for someone to lie to her face.
"Doing what?"
"Do you have any more poptarts?" I ask, desperate for the conversation change. It distracts her just enough for her. The locals try to question us all. 'Why do you all have matching tattoos?', 'Why did you all cut your hair?', 'Why did you all drop out of school?' I have to avoid the questions as much as I can.
"Do you workout a lot or something?" She asks, handing me another packet.
"Why?" I can't help the smirk on my face. "You think I'm buff?"
"I was wondering if you had a heavy carbo loaded diet or something." Winnie rolls her eyes, but she won't meet my eyes.
"Just a growing boy." I shrug, which she doesn't seem to believe. I'm thankful how she doesn't push, dropping the subject for now.
"So, what do you do on your day off?" I ask, finishing the poptarts.
"Nothing fun. Laundry, cleaning the cabin, grocery shopping for the week, organizing my bills. Adult stuff." Winnie answers, leaning against the ladder. "How about you? What do you do in your spare time when you're not working for Uley."
"Help local waitresses on the side of the road." I grin coyly at her over the rim of the mug. "My, ugh—job takes up a lot of my time. When I'm not working I do what I can to help my mom. It's always been just us. She works a lot, so I try keep the house clean for her, buy the groceries so she doesn't have to, cook dinner for her when I can. Sometimes Jacob needs an extra hand with cars, or his dad asks me for some help when Jacob can't. Old Quil calls around too sometimes, he's not getting any younger. Sam Uley's fiancé, Emily, asks me for a favor or two. Her aunt too, Sue Clearwater has always been good to me, so I try be there if she needs help, especially since her husband died."
"Wow." Winnie breathes. "You really come to everybody's rescue, not just mine."
"No, not really. Just a few odd jobs around the res."
"I was giving you such a hard time about you helping me, when you literally help everyone."
"They're good people. And good people are always worth helping." Insist before adding, "you're good people too Winnie."
"And you're the best of them, huh?" It's the way her eyes hold me, taking me in with this stunned but admired look in her eyes. It warms me up, as if she isn't half across the room but holding me instead.
"Winnie, please let me take you to work tomorrow." I try lowly. She hesitates, but the usual discomfort isn't there.
"You already save everybody else. You don't have to save me, Embry."
"I know you can find your own way, you can't help someone who doesn't need it." It was so clever, it should be consider snarky. But I'd do anything for just a few more minutes with her in my day. I don't care if I have to wake up before the sun rises just for her to be the first thing I see.
"It's early." She warns, but it's not a no. I almost beam.
"It's not that early to me." I try to convince her.
"Six o'clock?" No, it's early. Early as it can get.
"I'll see you then."