Page 149 of Unleashed

Michael didn’t respond, finishing his change of clothes and folding his discarded items neatly. As he placed them on the small table, a knock at the door interrupted us. Michael openedit, revealing a surprised Sally, standing there with a Styrofoam container of soup and another of tea.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Who’s this?”

“My friend, Michael,” I explained, stepping forward. “He was worried about me.”

Sally smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you, Michael. I hope you’ll be comfortable here at The Backpack.”

Michael nodded. “I’m sure I will. Thanks for looking after Morgan. She can be... stubborn.”

Sally laughed. “Not a problem.” She handed the box to Michael. “Soup and tea. Enjoy. We’ll settle up when you check out, Morgan. Nick’s expecting you in the morning.”

“I’ll be there,” I promised.

As soon as Sally left, Michael placed the box on the table and popped off the lid of the soup container. The smell was comforting, making my stomach rumble despite the nausea.

“Want to share?” Michael asked, glancing over at me.

“I’m not hungry,” I said, though the aroma was tempting. “But I’ll take the tea.”

He frowned. “When was the last time you ate?”

“This morning. I haven’t felt well.”

“Morgan, you need to eat something.”

I sighed. “And throw up all over the place? No thanks. Just the tea is fine.”

He shook his head, frustration lining his features. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn.”

He spooned up some of the soup and took a bite, moaning in appreciation. “Damn, this is good.”

“It wasn’t Sally who made it. Nick did.”

“Well, Nick’s a damn good cook.” He looked at me again, concern still clouding his eyes. “Just one spoonful, Morgan.”

“One,” I relented.

Michael scooped up a spoonful of the hearty soup and held it out to me. I leaned forward, letting him feed me. The warmth spread through me, settling the nausea for a moment.

“Mmm. Okay, Nick’s outdone himself.”

“Want more?”

I nodded, and to my surprise, he continued feeding me, each spoonful easing the tension in my stomach and the ache in my chest. In that quiet moment, I realized how much I needed him here. Not Slade, with his lies and deceit. But Michael—who was always there, always steady.

“Better?” he asked after a few more bites.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I think I am.”

We stayedat The Backpack Motel for two long, snow-filled days. Mother Nature dumped fourteen inches of snow, leaving the world outside our window blanketed in white. When the storm finally passed, the temperature rose to an unseasonable sixty degrees, and the once-pristine driveway turned into a mess of dirty puddles.

Michael had been a perfect gentleman the entire time. We shared the same bed, his arms wrapped around me while we slept, but he never crossed the line. Not once did he try to touch me intimately. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to—I did. But the nausea that ebbed and flowed made it hard to focus on anything other than surviving the aftermath of the storm.

By the end of those two days, I’d made my decision. I wasn’t continuing through the woods with the snow weighing down every step. Going home with Michael seemed like the only option.

As we packed our things into his SUV, Darla and Paul emerged from their room, backpacks strapped on and ready for their next adventure.

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