Page 22 of Pack Baines

Searching up and down the hallway I’m in, I turn right. Thankfully, I find the stairs easily from there, the room I was tucked away in close by. I tiptoe down the stairs and head to the kitchen, keeping the lights off so as not to disturb the peace surrounding me.

As soon as I’m sure everyone is still asleep, I take a seat at the island counter and unlock my cell. I find the voice note from Mack, lower my volume, and press play.

“I haven’t heard from you, girly. Got me worried and shit. You know I don’t like being worried. Call or text or whatever. Quit making me feel like a fucking girl, all up in my feelings and shit. And let me know how my truck is. Better not have bumped her, or I’ll kick your ass,”Mack grumbles down the line, sounding entirely too put out and making me smirk. That smirk turns into a full-on smile when he adds on quickly,“Miss you around here. Get back to me.”

Huffing a quiet laugh, I type out a quick message, despite the time being gone three in the morning.

JUNO:I’m fine. All signed up for classes. They start on Monday. Got my textbooks, settled into my dorm room. Sorry I didn’t message sooner, I’ve had a crazy few days here already. I’ll call you tomorrow, though, so you quit being all girly and shit. Miss you too, old man.

The message goes from sent to read quick enough that I know Mack was already on his phone, likely waiting for closing time. And, in true Mack fashion, I receive only a thumbs up emoji as a response. It’s more than I would have expected, so I send him a cool sunglasses emoji face back before locking my cell and pushing it away.

With my elbows braced on the counter, I drop my head into my hands, my fingers tangling in my plum-colored hair as I sigh loudly before I rub at my face. In the peace and quiet, my mind has free rein to run rampant. My thoughts fall right onto the guys, how they’ve stumbled back into my life once more, and how not one of them has shunned me. In fact, it seems like they all want me here. Well, all but Lowie. I’m not sure what’s going on there, but there’s a vibe that maybe he isn’t too happy with me being here. Maybe he’stoo pissed about me disappearing that he can’t get over it. I mean, I wouldn’t blame him if that were the case.

“You look pretty lost in thought there,” his voice breaks through the quiet, making me jump so hard that my hands slap against the hard counter and wince when pain ricochets up my arms.

“Jesus, Low. You scared me,” I breathe harshly, placing a hand on my chest while I turn to look at him. He leans casually against the wall that only partially separates the kitchen from the living room. He’s shirtless, proudly displaying an eight pack that has my mouth watering, his sleep pants slung low enough that I can spy how deep his very defined adonis belt runs. His feet are bare, ankles crossed in a relaxed position, and his face and half of his body are cast in shadows as he watches me.

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t budge from where he stands, muttering, “Sorry. Been standing here a while.”

I nod, dropping my hand to fiddle with my phone on the counter, suddenly nervous to be around the guy less enthusiastic about me being here. Maybe he would have preferred I stayed gone? I mean, it’s not like I meant to come waltzing back into their lives. If Creek hadn’t bumped into me, then neither of us would be any wiser.

“Sounds like you have someone worried,” he points out, jerking his head to my phone, the bite of something in his words making me frown.

I shrug. “Mack isn’t a worrier by nature, but he cares in his own way.”

“Mack,” he mutters, almost like he’s tasting the name and not liking it one bit. That’s weird. “He your boyfriend or something?”

Hell, I choke on my next inhale, coughing and spluttering helplessly. Lowie rushes over to slap a hand against my back, and it takes a moment for my breathing to return to normal. When it does, I eye Lowie like he told some sick, twisted joke and explain, “The guy is old enough to be my father. I get some people are into that, but not me. I’m very much single. Mack owned the bar I worked at before coming here.”

And what do you know, the animosity toward Mack disappears just as quickly as it came. Lowie’s shoulders drop as he leans against the counter beside me, close enough that I can feel his heat and smell that familiar sandalwood and coconut scent that only differs slightly to his brother.

“Here,” I mutter, swiping over my phone and pulling up a funny selfie I took of myself, Mack accidentally photobombing with a middle finger he was throwing at an asshole customer. I slide the phone across to Lowie, and he eyes it with a twitch of his lips, seeing with his own eyes how Mack, the big, burly, bearded biker is definitely too old for me. Shaking my head, I say, “That’s Mack. He gave me his old truck before I left, so he’s just making sure me and the truck made it in one piece.”

“Bit generous for an employer,” he notes, sliding my phone back to me.

I shrug again. “Mack… he’s a different breed. Knows the fucked-up things that go on in the world, had experience with it. I guess he saw a kindred soul in me and decided to care against his better judgment. I’m grateful to him, all the same.”

That shuts Lowie up, a flicker of guilt crossing his strikingly handsome features before he looks away. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares into the distance for a long while, leaving us in a silence made of comfort and awkwardness.

“Where did you go, Angel?” he eventually asks, so softly that I could have mistaken him for Leylan if I didn’t know the two of them as well as I do. The nickname washes over me with both familiarity and heartache, and I tear my gaze away from him and stare down at the counter before me.

“Want the short or long story? Either way, it’s not a pretty fairytale, so do you really want to know?” I ask instead of answering his question, my gut rolling at the thought of sharing the absolute shit-show my life turned into after Hershal almost killed me.

Lowie sighs, and I feel his body sidle closer as he turns to face me, and he tells me seriously, “Since the moment you called andI had to listen to you fade away from the other end of the fucking phone, I’ve needed to know where you are, if you’re okay, and what you’re doing. I’ve been dying, Angel, not knowing where you were and why you left. I’ll listen to whatever the hell you want to tell me at this rate.”

It’s the most I’ve gotten out of the guy since he hugged me while I cried, and I realize then that maybe I was wrong. Maybe he does want me here. But the flash of guilt I see paint itself slowly over his features tells me there are things he’s clinging to that he can’t let go of.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right? What Hershal did? None of us could have ever anticipated he’d almost kill me, and I’m sorry I put that on your shoulders. I should have called the police or something,” I rush to say, trying to alleviate his guilt. It’s misplaced, severely so. Lowie was only fourteen, and there isn’t a damned thing he could have done. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”

“Don’t,” he snaps harshly, enough that I flinch in my seat. “Don’t you dare apologize for calling when you needed me. It’s me who should apologize. I should have fought to keep you with us, to have you stay the night or something. I should have got Leylan to call Dad faster, should have—”

“You did everything, Low. I would have died if you hadn’t answered the call,” I quietly interrupt, reaching my hand slowly for his, linking our fingers until I feel his palm pressed against mine.

Lowie releases a long, tired breath, before he lifts my hand and presses it against his chest. I can feel the thundering of his heart through the warmth of his skin, and I swallow hard, my hand tightening in his. He doesn't let go, simply keeps our joined hands pressed snugly against him, and he asks again, “Where have you been, Angel? I want the long story, I want to know everything. Every moment between you leaving the house that night to now.”

And so, like his demand compels it of me, I do exactly as he asks, too tired to keep everything bottled like usual.

“When your dad took me home that night, I got into it with Hershal again. The others were high out of their skulls, lounging and making out on the couch, not a care in the world. Hershal had been drinking heavily, words slurring, a stench wafting off him strong enough that I felt sick. He wasn’t too impressed that I’d come home late and demanded to know where I was. I lied, told him I was with a girlfriend from school, and that I’d told Tori where I’d be. He backhanded me hard enough that I fell for trying to blame her for my mistake. He said I’d be sorry when he was through with me. He beat me black and blue after that. I don’t even remember how long he spent kicking the shit out of me, punching me hard enough that sound stopped leaving my mouth.

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