Page 47 of This Pack of Ours

He bounced on his heels, shooting us all a helpless glance again before knocking on the door.

“Juni?” he called out. “Can we come in? Adrian says you have a concussion?”

There was a muffled answer from inside, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

Kit tried the door, and thankfully she hadn’t done up any of the locks.

“Juni?” He peered inside.

“Just you,” came a quiet, grumpy voice, and Kit’s glance was panicked now.

He was just opening his mouth when she spoke again, even quieter. “And Adrian.”

Kit huffed out a sigh of relief, and took my hand again, dragging me inside.

“Ez, can you get the bag?” I called over my shoulder.

“On it," he said, and disappeared to grab it.

It was dark in here, with mismatched curtains hanging along two of the walls. There were a couple of glowing lava lamps scattered around, and more mismatched fabric creating a canopy over the bed. From the ceiling hung handmade paper lanterns of various sizes, with multicolored LEDs making them glow. Threadbare rugs that may have once been fluffy were spread out on the floor. It was the kind of nest my mom had had growing up—the one you had to make do with. Using whatever money you could spare to cobble together a semblance of comfort. My dads had never cared enough to help her.

My heart ached to help Juniper and Kit do better than a thrifted nest. We weren’t rich—we all worked, but most of that money went right into our schooling loans. I’d happily use my spending money for this, though.

Juniper was huddled on the large bed, clutching her rescued blanket to her chest. Kit tugged me over to her and crouched down, sweeping back a strand of hair from her face.

“You okay, Juni?” he asked softly, and she sniffed.

“Can you get my contacts?” she whispered.

Kit’s eyes darted to me suddenly and he straightened up, protectively blocking her from view. His movement made me acutely aware that I was here, invading their space.

“Maybe I could just come back when you’re ready?” I said, taking a step back.

“S’okay. He saw last night,” Juniper admitted, her voice still low.

Kit turned and frowned at me, which I think was the first time he’d done that. I squirmed, even thoughnoneof last night was my fault.

“Okay, be right back," he said, standing up.

I took his place, tentatively crouching next to Juniper.

Her eyes glinted up at me from the dark, reminding me of my old cat when she’d hide under the bed. Her face was tense.

“Can I check you over again?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Still hurts. More when I move.”

“Any more nausea?” I asked, relieved when she shook her head slightly.

“Okay. It’s getting better then?”

A nod.

“You’ll be okay. But you need to rest.”

Another glare, but it was half-hearted at best.

Kit slid back into the room, padding over to us.

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