Page 43 of Pack Plus Three

My tears had been quite small until I found the baby blanket I'd slowly been crocheting destroyed, pulled apart and covered in bleach. Finding the small blanket I’d been working so hard on for my future child destroyed in such a violent manner, I broke down into full body-wracking sobs.

Strong arms wrapped around me, and I was dragged into Jeremy’s chest. “I shouldn’t have let you see this,” he muttered.

“N-no. I needed to see it,” I said, still sobbing.

I had nothing. What little I had fought to build for myself had been taken out in one fell swoop.

“I've texted Devon. He knows you're coming, and he said he’ll order several pizzas. They’ll be there by the time we arrive.”

“Where do you guys even live?” I asked as my sobs quieted somewhat. In all the time I'd known Jeremy, I'd never actually bothered to ask where his pack lived. Maybe I just didn't want to admit to myself that he lived somewhere that wasn't next door to me.

“We live in Guildford,” he told me softly.

That told me everything I needed to know. Guildford was an infamously wealthy area. My parents had been firmly middle class, and they had dreamed of owning a house in Guildford. Every property there came with a price tag in the millions.

“That's a very nice area,” I said uneasily. “Probably not the kind of place I should be.”

I was pretty sure that Cole's parents lived in Guildford, and they had more money than they knew what to do with. The type of wealth where they would just buy another holiday house because they were bored. They made every penny of that money by exploiting our very broken medical system.

No wonder their son was such an asshole.

“If there's any place you belong, it's our packhouse. Come on, there's no point in hanging around here. Let's get you back. You're exhausted, and you could do with a nap.”

He wasn't wrong. I’d already been exhausted and in pain before I realized my home had been burglarized. The agony in my back was only spreading, and the idea of lying down was blissful.

“I'm only agreeing right now because my back hurts,” I admitted with a pout.

“I'll take it. You know, my car has heated seats. I'm sure that'll help with the back pain and there's also a jetted tub at the packhouse you can use.”

I groaned. He was fighting dirty, and he was winning. You couldn't just dangle a jetted bathtub and heated seats in front of a pregnant woman and not expect them to jump at the opportunity. It would be like putting the tastiest bone in front of a rabid dog. It just wasn't fair.

“I'm going to have to open up a bakery at the rate that I'm making cookies for you.”

“As long as I'm the only customer at the bakery, I'm okay with that. I did eat one of those apple pie cookies before we came over here, and it was absolutely divine, as always.” Jeremy grinned, taking the small bag of possessions I had gathered off me before gently guiding me out of the apartment.

“Are we just going to leave it open? It's not like the door will lock now,” I said, looking at the shattered door jamb.

“Devon is already on his way over. He's going to replace the door quickly with a temporary hardware one and then meet us back at the house.”

“Thank you. I know there's not really much left here to protect, but it's all I've got in the world.”

“I know, but you deserve so much more,” Jeremy said. “Hopefully, in time, you'll understand just how amazing you are. Cole was an idiot, but I can't complain, because his loss is my gain.”

After a quick trip back to Jeremy’s to grab the cookies and Gilbert, he led me down to the parking garage. I had never actually been in the shady parking garage next to our building—everyone in the building had a space, but a lot of us didn't have cars. I certainly couldn’t afford one, and I imagined that was the case for many of the residents.

“Here I am,” Jeremy said, pulling out his keys and unlocking the car.

His car stuck out like a sore thumb—I was shocked it hadn’t been stolen or taken apart. The large, dark-green SUV looked expensive. Cars were not my area of expertise, but even I could tell someone needed serious money to own a car like that.

“This is a little fancy,” I said.

Jeremy grimaced. “This is the most low-key car I own,” he admitted sheepishly, making me laugh.

I reached out for the door handle of the passenger side as Jeremy opened the back door, Gilbert jumping in with ease. It clearly wasn’t the dog’s first rodeo.

“Uhhh . . . Jeremy?”

“Is everything okay?” he asked from the back of the car, where he was placing my meager bag of possessions into the trunk.

---