Page 5 of Pack Down Bad

Rhys

Knox is going to give me hell when I get home. I’m sure he’ll be waiting on the porch to let me know how ridiculous I am for choosing to drive today.

I could’ve waited until next week to go into town for groceries like a normal, rational adult. But my gut said, “Rhys, you charming bastard, better do it now.”

Why? Who knows. Maybe I thought I’d get bonus points for preparedness.

I’m paying for my decision now as I drive the truck at glacier speed, white-knuckling the steering wheel and taking extra caution navigating home since I know this stretch of road gets slick.

The worst part? The drive is so slow, I have time tothink.And not the fun kind of thinking where I dream up ideas about how to get Percy to tear his nose out of a book for sexy times. Or creating an entirely new account to troll Knox on his social media channels by leaving hundreds of comments calling himArt Daddy.

Trips into town always leave me a touch melancholy. Unlike Knox and Percy, I’m an ambivert rather than an introvert. I need the occasional social interaction to keep me feeling human.

If we had an omega who was happy to occasionally be my partner in crime, that might balance things out. But alas, our search for an omega has proven fruitless.

Maybe I could convince the guys that we should try online dating again, even though the results keep winding up pretty disastrous.

Most omegas pull the brakes hard when they find out we live in an isolated cabin in the woods.

No one ever seems to listen when we explain that our lifestyle isn’t primitive or completely isolated. We do have neighbors that can be reached by ATV, and we’re not an unreasonable driving distance from town... when the weather is less volatile.

If we could ever convince an omega to come meet us on our turf, they would see how wrong their assumptions are.

“What the...?” I squint through the windshield at the odd shape ahead.

I know this road like the back of my hand, so I should be getting ready to pass the huge willow tree planted about a half-mile out from the mouth of my driveway. Tonight, the shape has morphed into something much wider.

“Shit!” As I draw closer, I can see the vague outline of a car flush against the tree.

I pull over on my side of the road where a patch of flat land is hidden under the snow. On the other side of the road is a small ditch. Not enough to flip a car, but enough to send someone careening straight into the willow tree if they slid off the road going toward town.

I leave the truck running with the headlights on and leap out of the driver’s seat.

The only cars that usually travel this road belong to those of us who live out this way, but I don’t know anyone else who would risk leaving in the snow like me. Most of the neighbors are older and hunker down even on rainy days.

I check for headlights in either direction before darting across the road. I might be a master of chaos, but I’m not trying to get taken out by a minivan. Coast looks clear, so I launch myself across the road like a man on a mission… or a raccoon who just spotted a half-eaten taco.

My boots struggle to keep traction once I hit the edge of the ditch. I work my way slowly down the small incline. The snow is still coming down too hard for me to tell if anyone is inside the car. Once I can balance my center of gravity again–thank you, god-like core strength–I move fast to the driver’s side window and peer inside like a nosy neighbor with a heart of gold and zero boundaries.

The windows are so fogged up I can’t see anything but shadows. With windows that foggy though, someone has to be inside. I knock at the window and wait a few moments for any kind of response.

Nothing.

I can hear my heartbeat whooshing in my ears as I tug at the door handle. Locked. I keep a fully stocked emergency kit in my car for situations like this, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to have to break the car’s window. I bang harder on the window one last time in the hopes of rousing whoever might be inside.

A muffled voice sounds from inside the car.

“I’m here to help you!” I shout, hoping the person inside can hear me better than I can hear them.

Adrenaline is coursing through my veins at the rate of a gallon’s worth of espresso shots.

There’s something else, too. Something itching at the back of my brain that I can’t quite put my finger on.Somethingtrying to steal away my attention. An itch in the back of my brain like I forgot to turn off the stove. I do my best to stay focused as the person in the driver’s seat finally cracks open their door, giving me access.

I pull the door open and crouch down to see what I’m dealing with. The first thing I see is the crumpled dashboard. In the battle of car vs. tree, the tree is walking away like a gladiator, leaving the fight without a scratch.

Before I can shift my gaze to the person in the driver’s seat, thesomethingtrying to get my attention finally breaks to the surface.

I’m well-trained on how to respond to an emergency. I’ve taken the courses, aced the certifications, and I’m pretty sure there are several participation ribbons in our attic that all speak to my excellence.

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