Honestly, Jacob regretted going to Sam's. He always did. What was really the point?
Yes, he wanted them to stick together. They were a pack, but how come it felt like a pack of hyenas most times. Naturally, they said he was just too serious. All the teasing and stupid stuff. It just made him angry in the end.
He did his best to keep to himself. Sam let him as if he understood, completely. But this was how he was suppose to spend the rest of his days with these rowdy imbeciles. Amazing, they tracked anything down. If they only knew how he really felt about them, he'd probably be considered the lone wolf. Maybe, he was.
He got back to the house and found Billy watching TV. He seemed to be working himself in to the woodwork these days. It felt like living with a ghost. But as soon as he walked into the kitchen, he knew some one had been here. Her faint scent shocked him. The lid from the peanut-butter jar hadn't been screwed down tight. Not the way he liked it. He unscrewed the lid, saw the remains of the peanut-butter on the bread knife.
"Did you have someone over?" He found Billy. Naturally, all he got was an ominous look from him. "Someone was in the house." He looked at Billy as if he might fear for his safety, but not really.
He was mad. He was mad that he hadn't been here when she dropped in. Evidently. He put the bread away. Washed the knife.
Jacob closed his eyes, dreaming of how she'd walked right in, perhaps made herself right at home. Was she some thing feral in the forest? A shiver shot through him as if he wanted some answers. He went to his room then, and that's when he saw the half glass of milk on his dresser. He winced.
What was it about her that made him like this? Did she know? Did she even care what he was?