Ryder and the others—after some light shoving to get through the entrance—moved to join Tray.
“Screwed up?” Mac questioned, looking down at the takeout, his expression confused. Dixon scowled, eyes narrowed, as if he was angry that he didn’t understand either. Ryder just kept staring at me without blinking, as if he thought once he closed his eyes, I’d vanish.
Understanding eventually seemed to wash over them all. I just stood stupidly, not saying a word.
“This probably seems so goddamn wasteful,” Mac finally realized. “I can’t imagine living like you did and then seeing this.”
I lifted one foot, scratching it nervously down the other leg. He was right, but how could I fault them forsomething I’d caused.
“It was my fault,” I managed to push out, feeling like a burden. “You guys were so great and then I… I lost it. And…” I gestured at the island to complete the thought.
“Fuck that kind of thinking,” Dixon growled, stomping towards me. I scooted to the side, trying to get out of his way. He stopped at a floor-to-ceiling section of cabinets, opened a door, and yanked out a trash bag. He shook open the plastic sack and then swept his arm across one section of the island. Methodically, he moved to each corner of the large counter, his muscled arm acting like a street sweeper. Bit by bit, the evidence of last night’s feast disappeared into the garbage.
When he’d finished, he wordlessly stalked out of the kitchen. In the distance, doors opened and slammed. As if someone hit pause, the rest of us didn’t move while he was gone.
“Who wants breakfast?” He bellowed upon returning, restarting the scene.
Before anyone could answer, a loud bang, followed by the distinct sound of breaking glass, blasted through the air. My eyes widened, mouth dropping in surprise. The source of the noise was suspiciously close. Seconds later, a distressed meow made my heart sink. Josie… in the pantry… where she wouldn’t cause too much trouble.
It was Tray that jogged over to investigate. My lungs stopped working and I held my breath as he began swinging the door inward.What had the contract update said about Josie?I tried to remember. I’d properly read the contract on the plane, addendum included. Something about a trial basis. That the cat was allowed, but only if she didn’t disrupt the client’s life?
I expected the worst. Josie had obviously broken something and made a mess.
The door was almost open. I waited for the anger, for the yelling, for the threats.
Instead, Tray tipped back his head and laughed.
When you’re expecting the worst—for the end of the world to arrive, yet again, to torture you—laughter seems incredibly strange and out of place.
35
TESSA
Confused,I took a few hesitant steps towards the pantry. On the opposite side of the island, Ryder, Dixon, and Mac also moved. Tray’s redwood-thick body nearly filled the doorframe. He was still laughing loudly, body shaking in the throes of unrestrained joy. We all waited in bemusement until his outburst began to calm.
“Well, what the fuck is it?” Dixon gave his pack brother a gentle push from behind.
“My parents,” Tray hiccuped out the words without turning around, “would have a field day with this feline.” Still chuckling, he stepped back and moved to the side so we could see the disaster zone.
The entire pantry floor was coated in powdery white. An industrial mason jar, or rather the corpse of one, rested slap dab in the middle of the sea of flour. I knew it was flour, because of the pretty black label. Josie was rolling around making kitten angels like it was Christmas in California. My eyes checked quickly for any glass shards near her, but amazingly all the busted glass seemed to be neatly imploded next to the mason jar. Maximum mess, minimal danger.
“Oh, no,” I stepped forward quickly, taking responsibility. “God, I’mso sorry. I’ll clean it up. I promise she’s not a bad cat. I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything like this again.”
They’re going to take her away from me, my brain screamed.Let them try. I’ll disappear for real. They’ll never freaking find me. Great, go be homeless again, Tessa. You should have watched Josie better. You’re so damn stupid.
“Do you have a broom?” Anxiously, I looked at the mess. “No, maybe a vacuum would be better? I’ll get the glass first.” Spinning, I took one step towards the cabinet where Dixon had gotten the trash bag. Before I could move further, firm hands clamped around my shoulders and forced me to stay in place.
“Tessa, it’s just flour,” Ryder’s soothing voice, dropped into his signature low frequency that made his singing style so distinctive, made my heart pang.
“The mason jar broke,” I countered stupidly, because it wasn’t just flour. It was… it was Josie. It was the possibility of losing my family.
“Yeah, so what?” I could hear the shrug in his words, and it confused me.
I tried to peer over my shoulder. I needed to see if the sincerity in his voice matched the look in his eyes. I was at the wrong angle though. I could only see Mac behind him to the left. Taking a deep breath, I slowly reversed course. Ryder kept touching my body, flattening his hands so his palms could trace over me as I twirled. When I was facing him, his fingers curled around my shoulders once more.
“There is nothing,” he said fiercely, “that you or Josie could do that would make us change our minds.”
“Your minds about what?” I murmured; my eyes trailed away from his face to land, one-by-one, on the three others watching me. Each pair of eyes stared back steadily, offering me longing and reassurance.
