Page 42 of Building My Pack

Not really, but I do. I tell him everything that happened between last night and this morning and his reply is a deep sigh. Kit is the type of person who doesn't push his opinions off on someone I've noticed. Which is why I'm not surprised when he doesn't offer one, and lets me work through the crap-show in my head while hugging me tight against him.

After a few minutes, I ask him, "What if I'm just not meant to have relationships with people? What if I set this path in motion from the second I started taking my suppressants and doomed myself to a life of being alone? I don't seem to be doing anything but getting hurt as soon as I get close to someone recently."

He doesn't argue that he'd never hurt me. Not when he warned me of it before there were strings. There's always the chance he's going to pick up and leave, hurting me, too. Instead, he offers, "We could always go somewhere. You could sell your house and we could see the world if you wanted. I'll take you somewhere you've never been."

"What about Waylen and Mitchell?" I ask quietly.

He shrugs, "They'd understand."

But would they, though? Because I don't think they would, and I don't think I want to leave them. As much as it hurts to admit, I don't want to leave Santiago and Kennedy either. Kit has to know what my answer will be. Maybe that's the reason why he even offered so that I'd realize how much I don't want to go. All I know for certain is that I'm content to lay right here with him while his hand makes lazy, comforting circles on my back for now.

Chapter 20

Bryce

A few hours ago, I'd gone to bed way early and Kit hadn't asked if he could join me. He just did, and we'd fallen asleep with me half on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat beneath my ear. It's only a little while later when a painful cramp in my stomach wakes me up. Rain pelts the side of the house, hitting the windows. Normally, I'd lay here enjoying the sound, but the ache makes it impossible.

Sitting up, I curl over on myself to try and alleviate the pain. Kit's warm hand comes up to rub up and down my spine as he sits up and groggily asks, "You okay? Is it another heat?"

"I don't think so," I answer. Which I truly don't. That was a sort of desperate kind of feeling down in my core begging for something it hadn't ever had. This is more of a ‘I ate something bad’ kind of stomachache. I get up to grab some stomach-settling medicine out of the bathroom cabinet before crawling back into bed. Turning on our sides, I scoot back until he's got me tucked tight against him and settling his hand on my belly.

I've just dozed off when our phones both go off at the same time. Mine is blaring from the nightstand as his does the same somewhere downstairs from the sound of it. I roll over with a groan to silence it, but notice that it's a red alert from my weather app.

"Kit," I say, waking him back up and then louder, "Kit, we need to go downstairs. We're under a tornado warning."

"Probably just a false alarm like normal," he mumbles into the pillow. And he's not wrong. This time of year, we get constant threats of tornados. Though the chances of one actually touching down here are slim. There hasn't been one for many years. Either way, though, it doesn't hurt to be prepared. Especially when my nest in the basement would be perfect and comfortable enough to go back to sleep. The pounding of rain on the window slows down to a drizzle and there's a flash of lightning followed quickly by a clap of thunder.

His head lifts off the pillow as he cracks the curtains to take a look outside. "Come on. We'll go down to your nest just to be safe."

We're almost on the first floor when the sound of a train comes out of nowhere. It wouldn't be all too scary if the power doesn't choose that moment to go out, on top of the fact that we don't have trains around here.

"Do you still have your phone?" he asks as he throws the basement door open and guides me to go first.

We're down a couple steps before my brain registers his question, and I feel like the biggest moron. I'd put it back on the nightstand when I silenced the alarm. I tell him as much and he's practically yelling as he says, "Okay, go down. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" I call at his back as he races up the stairs.

"I'm going to grab mine in case we get stuck down here!" he yells.

There's a sudden pressure change that makes my ears pop and it hurts bad enough that I slam my palms over them. "Kit!" I scream. My heart starts beating out of my chest as the sound of the train gets louder and I can hear dirt hitting the back of the house. Trees are cracking and hitting the ground outside with loud booms. Then I start hearing what sounds like parts of the roof being ripped clean off.

It's only been seconds, but it's been seconds too long. "Kiiiit!" I scream again right before I hear glass breaking and a massive gust of wind hits me out of nowhere making me lose my balance. I'm only three steps from the bottom but it's enough distance to leave me gasping for air as I hit the concrete floor. The side of my head hits with a loud crack that jars my teeth. I'm still struggling to breathe when part of the floor above me collapses, smashing my wrist beneath it. A pain like no other shoots up my arm and I scream right before another board falls and hits the side of my head where I smacked it on the floor. I don't even have time to hope that Kit is okay before I pass out.

When I come to, it's pitch-black other than what little bit of light from the sky that manages to sneak through the hole in the ceiling. It takes a few minutes to get my surroundings and remember what happened because my head feels like it's stuffed with cotton balls. I remember being with Santiago and Kennedy and being upset with them for something. I start to cry wishing I hadn't left angry. Then, the memories flood my brain. The tornado warning. Coming downstairs, but Kit. Kit went back.

"Kit!" I cry out hoarsely, coughing out dust in my lungs. My head is killing me and feels like there are tiny, angry people inside with hammers trying to break out. When I try to move, my body aches like it's been run over...twice. But I've got to move. I've got to find Kit. White-hot agony shoots through my arm as I try to get it unpinned from whatever's laying on top of it. It almost makes me black out again. When I manage to miraculously get it loose, I tuck my whole arm against my chest before working on freeing my legs from the rubble which is a lot easier. Dragging myself to my feet, I almost topple over when my head throbs. I end up having to drop back down and crawl over to where I'm certain the stairs are. Nails, and God only knows what else, stab into my good hand as I use it to help guide and crawl. I don't care, though. Nothing matters but finding Kit.

I start crying for real when I find the stairs and have to fight through rubble to climb up, falling several times before I make it to the top. I have to stop when I get there and take a quick breather because not only am I out of breath with my head feeling like it's about to explode, but my house is gone. The entire second floor is missing, exposing the interior to the drizzle of rain still falling. One of my eyes is swelling shut making it harder to see in the darkness.

"Kit!" I try to yell. It reverberates through my skull, but I don't care if it means he'll answer. Carefully getting to my feet again, I stumble toward the back of the house tripping over boards and parts of the wall. He'd said he was going for his phone which would've been near the kitchen. My heart sinks into the lowest part of my belly when I get there because the entire back of the house is just gone. The only thing left is the floor and parts of the walls.

"Kit!" I scream again around a sob. Tripping on another piece of board, I slowly make my way to where the kitchen used to be. I pass Wasabi's tank that's smashed to bits underneath some wood. I don't see his little body anywhere but it's safe to assume he's gone. Poor guy didn't stand a chance.

Please, please let Kit be okay.

I repeat the mantra in my head over and over until I see a smidge of bright fabric beneath some drywall. I can't even remember what Kit was wearing, but it doesn't matter because if there's a chance that it's him then I'm digging. And I do. It takes a minute moving the bigger pieces off to the side with only one hand and having to stop to take a breath between them so that I don't pass out. My stomach clenches hard and I almost puke when I lift the last big piece and spot part of his shirt-covered back and an arm.

"Kit," I call quietly, reaching out to feel his pulse point. It's beating underneath my fingers, and I drop my head and cry. I try to clear the rest of the debris off of him so that I can roll him over, but he's lodged under a beam that's too big for me to move with one hand. There's a growing pool of blood beneath his head and there's nothing I can do to get him out. Planting my feet on the ground, I hook my good arm under the beam and lift as hard as I can. It doesn't so much as budge, causing me to wail in despair. Something on the other end is keeping it weighed down, but I can't see what it is. Spots are dancing around the edges of my vision as I feel my head starting to get heavier. The only chance I've got of getting him out of here is to go for help. I've just got to take a quick nap first because I can't see my hand in front of my face anymore. I reach out blindly to lay on Kit's back.

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