Pack Deception: Part Two, page 21
When Doctor Tanner suggested only having one of our scents in here at a time so we didn’t overload her senses, a niggle of hope had wormed its way into my heart. Doctor Tanner is extremely accomplished in her field and has been working specifically with the passion pack drug for long enough to know her shit. If she was talking like we’d get our mate back, it must be true.
But it’s been two weeks of us taking turns with her, talking to her, and laying in the nest with her, and she hasn’t even looked any of us in the eye. Just as Doctor Tanner said, a nurse has been by to administer fluids every morning. She comes, changes the IV and vitamin bags, and leaves. But there hasn’t been any change.
At this point, I’m not even talking to Summer.
It's more so like I’m expressing my thoughts out loud, just so she can hear my voice. Sort of like mothers talking to a baby in their belly. The baby isn’t going to remember anything she says, but maybe, just maybe, they remember the mother’s voice.
Maybe it soothes them.
“Hindsight… I thought a lot about that after they threw me to the curb. For you, I guess. My hindsight definitely wasn’t twenty-twenty. I circled the drain for months. Spiraling into depression, sinking deeper into it each day. Feeling like I was an unlovable beta. Something no pack would ever want. Not when they could have an omega instead. If my hindsight was twenty-twenty, I would have seen them dumping me for what it was. A fucking blessing. A reprieve from the mountains of emotional abuse they buried me under. I wouldn’t have had any room for depression, because I would have been too busy thanking the Goddess for blessing me.” I take a breath and let it out. A hopeless sigh. With a glance down at my no longer red or injured knuckles, I wish I’d gotten another swing in.
“But then, it was a curse, too. Since it left you vulnerable to them. Goddess, Summer. What I wouldn’t give to have stopped them from ever crossing paths with you. Even if that meant never finding you myself. If I could stop them from getting their hands on you–the first time and this time–I’d do it. I’d be happy to never have had the pleasure of accepting your mate bond if it meant you were happy, loved, and safe the way you deserve to be. Not this.” Tears burn my eyes while I swallow the painful lump in my throat. With gentle hands, I grab her face and turn her head up to look at me. Her eyes are level with mine, but she’s staring right through me.
“I hope you’re in there somewhere. I hope to the Goddess you can hear me. Please forgive me. For not being there for you. For not realizing sooner who had you. For not caring enough about them two years ago to make sure they weren’t abusing someone else. Please forgive me for not being enough.”
A tear escapes and falls down my cheek into my severely overgrown scruff. I drop my forehead to hers, just breathing in her muted scent. Fucking drugs. Taking away even that. Her usual warm gingerbread scent is masked by the pills Tanner is administering to try to counteract the toxic overload of the passion pack cocktail those pieces of shit gave my mate.
I place a chaste kiss on her lips, feeling the chapped texture of them, before pulling back. Just as I do, a small hit of honey spikes around us. My eyes jerk to Summer’s.
This is the first reaction of any kind I’ve noticed since we found her. “Hey, baby. Look at me.” My heart speeds up when her eyes focus on me. “That’s it, that’s perfect.” In less than ten seconds, they lose focus again. A breath stutters out of her, and she closes her eyes like the effort it took to focus on me exhausted her. Took what little energy she had and sucked it dry. But that’s okay…
A goofy smile stretches across my face as I bundle her in my arms and lay us back against the mountain of pillows so she’s sprawled across my chest.
It’s okay because she looked at me.
“What the hell are you smiling for?” Hudson grumbles, annoyed at my joy as he climbs into the nest to take his shift. I get it. There hasn’t been a lot to smile about recently.
I shrug. “Just…hopeful.” My smile doesn’t falter even at his frown. With a little rock, I pull myself up and stand to leave. I don’t tell him what I saw. Mostly because I don’t want to take any of the excitement he’s going to feel when he notices she’s coming back around. But a little because he’s been a grumpy pain in my ass for weeks… Well, that and he let Nala shit in my room the other day and left it for me to clean up.
Jackass.
That dog still hates me for not giving her a bite of my steak that first night.
Whispered voices come from the living room, so I follow the noise to see Maverick and Brooklyn leaning against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the backyard. They’re staring out at the grassy field and talking quietly enough that I can’t hear what they’re saying. Based on their relaxed body language though, it isn’t something that’s going to raise my blood pressure.
“Ava’s been calling nonstop, asking to see her,” Brooklyn says in the same low tone. Everyone’s walking around this house whispering like we’ve just buried Summer, rather than her simply existing in the other room.
Not me. Not anymore.
She’s coming back.
“Let her.” I shrug, talking at a normal volume.
“What? She’s not ready for that.” Brooklyn argues, crossing her arms with a frown, turning her body more so she’s facing me. With a glance at Mav, I can see he’s conflicted. He doesn’t want to disagree with me, but he’s on the same wavelength as Brooklyn on this.
“Tanner said to keep things as normal for her as we can. Normal is her best friend. She may not be up to playing fetch with Nala, but she can sit in the same room as her friend. Let her come.”
Two hours later, Ava walked in and went straight for the nest to see Summer. There was barely a passing glance to us, or a nod hello. She’s still in there. Has been for at least twenty minutes, while the rest of us sit around the living room and wait for her to come back out, so one of us can go back in.
Probably Maverick, since Hudson just had his turn, and I was before him. Though, Hudson may try to go back anyway. It has been hard to keep him out; Brooklyn has had to pull rank so someone else can get a turn, and we aren’t overwhelming her with multiple scents at once. Per the good doctor’s orders.
Footsteps on the stairs have all of us swiveling around to see Ava coming down.
“Anything?” Brooklyn asks, hopeful that seeing her best friend might elicit a reaction.
Ava meets all of our eyes and shakes her head. “I’m going to head out. Lots to do today at the bar.” Her eyes drop from mine when I frown at her, and then she’s out the door a split second later.
“That was weird, right?” Hudson asks, making a face at her hasty retreat.
“Yeah,” I answer. Definitely weird. She shot out of here like her ass was on fire.
Why was she acting so shifty?
“Who knows,” Mav shrugs, “I’m going up.” Brooklyn has to shoot daggers at Hudson when he looks like he’s about to protest. He huffs, folds his arms across his chest, and sits back against the couch cushion again.
We all sit in silence for a second, Hudson pouting, Brooklyn flipping her phone over and over in her hand, and me tapping my foot incessantly before I give up and go find the TV remote. Something to fill the silence and pass the time, rather than us all commiserating when there isn’t anything more we can be doing.
Thirty minutes later, footsteps thud from upstairs, and Mav’s frantic voice is screaming at us from the top of the steps, not even bothering to come all the way down. “Get up here! Now!”
There’s thudding like he’s running away, a pause, and then he’s running back, yelling again. “And bring water!”
Brooklyn, Hudson, and I all jump to our feet at the same time. A worried, half-hopeful look is exchanged before they’re darting up the stairs after Mav.
I’ll get the water then.
Snagging a bottle from the fridge, I’m sprinting for the stairs, too. When I get upstairs, my heart drops into my stomach when I see Brooklyn standing frozen in the doorway to Summer’s nest. Her hand is resting on her throat, and tears stream down her cheeks.
No.
No, no, no.
My feet carry me to the door, and I prepare myself for the worst. But tears build in my eyes, too, when I see Summer propped up on a dozen pillows, smiling softly at me.
Hudson and Maverick are on either side of her, hands fluttering uselessly around her like they want to help but have no idea what she needs and are trying not to disturb the IV in her arm.
“How are you feeling?” I ask in a daze, walking into the room and crawling up in the nest so I can sit next to her, too. Gingerbread hits me right away, and I take a big whiff, relishing that her scent has returned. It’s still a little muted, not quite to her usual level, but it’s there.
And she’s smiling at me. Seeing me.
“Like I got hit by a truck,” her usually sweet, lyrical voice comes out raspy. Ragged.
“Here,” I offer, untwisting the cap and handing the bottle over to Hudson so he can help her take a sip.
She does, wincing slightly on the first drink. But she finishes a few decent sips before she hands it back to Hudson with a grateful smile. “What’s wrong?” She frowns as she surely gets a good look at the stress lining all our eyes and shoulders.
Shock shoots through me. I didn’t even think about the possibility that she wouldn’t remember anything.
“What do you remember?” Brooklyn hedges, finally walking into the room and perching delicately on the edge of the mattress.
Summer’s brows knit together, and she looks off into space for so long that my heart rate spikes, and I worry she’s getting worse again. “… eating lunch with Wells. Going to the bathroom.”
“Anything else?” Maverick asks softly. A small shake of her head.
Brooklyn, Maverick, Hudson, and I all look at each other. Nobody wants to be the one to tell her.
“What?” she asks, fidgeting with the blanket covering her legs, and worry marring her face.
“It’s nothing to worry about just yet. Let’s call the nurse and get this IV out of you. You need to rest,” Brooklyn says, wringing her fingers.
Summer frowns at her and looks around, but we’re all avoiding her eyes. Nobody wants to be the bearer of bad news. To tell our mate we couldn’t protect her.
“Tell me,” she insists.
Brooklyn stares at Summer for the longest time, sighs, and then bites the bullet. She tells Summer everything that happened. About Tatem, Pack Monroe, the OPS agents, and the past two weeks.
Tears are streaming down Summer’s face as absolute devastation coats her features.
“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re alright now. Everything’s going to be alright.” Hudson takes her hands in his and rubs the chill from them.
“You don’t understand,” Summer chokes out between tears.
“Okay. So tell us. Help us understand.” He brings her hand to his mouth and gives it a gentle kiss in encouragement.
We sit in silence for a few minutes while Summer gathers herself. The courage, maybe. Or the strength. She must be so tired. Emotionally. Physically.
But then she starts talking in a whispered voice. “When Maverick took me to get tattooed, I got a call from Doctor Tanner. She ran my bloodwork the night I thought you guys had… Well, that night.”
She moves on quickly, talking about the night she thought we were drugging her.
“Earlier in the day, I had an appointment with her because I thought… I thought I might be pregnant. We didn’t use any protection during my heat.” Pink tinges her cheeks as she looks at a now eerily still Hudson and Maverick. Hope fills my chest.
A baby.
We’ve talked about kids before. All of us were in agreement that we wanted them someday.
Is Summer?
“But she called me with the results of that blood work when we were at the tattoo parlor. Not only was I not pregnant, but I likely wouldn’t ever be. The drugs they were giving me were destroying my FSH levels.”
The mood in the nest goes from wary and worried, to sad, to red-hot anger. If they weren’t already behind bars, I’d hunt them down and end them myself.
“Five percent. That’s how likely I was to get pregnant before. Before this new drug they gave me. That’s probably zero now,” she cries, the tears starting up again. Hudson pulls her into his lap and rocks her back and forth, purring for her. Trying to soothe the heartache. I watch as our big, goofy alpha looks up to the ceiling to stop his own tears from falling.
Tears that his mate is suffering so much, or for a future he envisioned that won’t ever happen anymore, I don’t know. He was the most vocal about wanting a kid someday.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out. We’ll find the best doctors, the best fertility specialists. Anything you want, we’ll make it happen,” Brooklyn declares. Summer peeks her head out from where she was hidden in Hudson’s shirt.
“What if–What if I can’t ever get pregnant?”
She thinks we’ll leave her. I want to scream at Pack Moore–Monroe–for making her feel so unloved.
“Summer, listen to me.” Wary, warm brown eyes meet mine. “Even if you can’t ever have kids, even if we spend tens of thousands of dollars for a chance that never happens, nobody here is going to love you any less.” Shock ripples through our three alphas when Summer looks around like she thinks they’ll disagree with me.
“Of course not!” Hudson growls. “You’re stuck with us now. Forever.”
Nods of agreement from Brooklyn and Maverick. But she meets my eyes again, and I say, “Pack.”
A promise from one fucked-up, insecure, former abusee to another. One word that I know she struggles to accept, and maybe always will. Like I will. Because healing takes time. People regress. There will be bad days between all the good. But one thing she’ll always be able to count on is us.
Her eyes shine as she looks at me and whispers it back like a promise. A prayer.
“Pack.”
Epilogue 1
Summer
I’ve been back to work for a few weeks now. Jerrick was ecstatic to have me back. Said that the temp they hired to cover for me in my…absence…was awful. Unorganized, unmotivated, and completely useless. Apparently, she spent more time taking selfies at my desk than actually working. Truth be told, I was excited to be back, too.
I love my mates… I do. More than my own life. But holy hellfire, they were driving me crazy with all the coddling.
I get it.
What it must have been like to nurse me back from basically a braindead comatose; it would have sent me into a depression spiral if it were one of them instead of me. That’s why I gave them some leeway for the first month after I came to.
Despite feeling ready to come back after a few weeks of sitting around the house doing nothing, I didn’t push the issue.
Besides, I did need the help for a minute.
Getting around that first week was difficult. According to Doctor Tanner, my brain had been working so hard to survive; it essentially shut down to preserve its strength. In fact, she said she was surprised I was so alert to begin with. I improved at a rate that I absolutely should not have. But she ran some tests, and everything came back fine. So fine, that she went into a little bit of a medical tailspin.
Hardly any drug left in your system, she had said before getting a slightly suspicious look in her eyes, and then we didn’t hear from her for a minute. And when she came back, she didn’t bring up my speedy recovery again.
Walking again after existing like a veritable vegetable was a learning curve. I teetered around the house with the help of each of my mates until I got my sea legs back. Well, and Nala of course. Hudson said she wouldn’t leave my side for anything except to use the bathroom and eat. They eventually stopped letting her in the nest because she would growl at them anytime they came in to sleep with me.
When I started back at work, each day I came home she was whining and waiting at the door for me and then stayed by my side until bedtime. After the first week though, she got used to my absence again. While she still waits at the door for me when she hears cars pull in, she no longer whines.
Speaking of getting home to my overprotective baby, I glance at the clock to see it’s coming up on five now. It’s been a slow day, and Jerrick has no more meetings on his schedule, so I pop my head into his office and ask if he needs anything else from me today.
“No, I’m okay. You can head home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiles, and I do my best to smile back. It feels a little forced, though. I’ve only been back for a few weeks, and already I feel like something is missing. It’s not being away from home. I’m happy to be kept busy again. But after everything, coming back to an assistant job does not feel as satisfying as I thought it would. I’ve been job hunting for the last few days, and I think I’ve found something I’m interested in that is in my wheelhouse. That application was submitted last night. The people pleaser in me doesn’t want to tell Jerrick though until I know it’s a sure thing. Not after how supportive he’s been. So I hold back.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
Wells is waiting for me when I hit the sidewalk, the passenger door held open. Houston and Damien have already taken other jobs. Since we don’t really need them anymore. Truth be told, I never was that close with them, so their absence is not a painful topic.
Thinking about Wells leaving…is a different story. The two of us have grown as close as brother and sister. I think he’s feeling a little miserable about having to leave, too, because he should have left weeks ago. But he insists he needs to stick around until Pack Monroe is actually prosecuted and put behind bars. Their hearing keeps getting pushed back, but their next one is in a few weeks. Our lawyer says they were convinced to plead out rather than take it to trial, thank the Goddess. Due to overwhelming evidence, she’d said.
