21. Kelly
Chapter 21
A low whimpering sound wakes me up, but it’s too damned early. It’s still dark outside.
Is Jake ok?
Scrambling off the mattress, I bolt to the door, yanking it open and startling the big dog awake by nearly tripping over him. He looks around bleary-eyed before he drops his snout back onto his front paws, making a low, grumbly noise. Maybe it was just a nightmare? Shaking myself to dislodge any bad dreams, I trudge to the bathroom before trying to reclaim my warm spot on the bed before it gets too cold to snuggle into properly.
My whole body curls around my pillow, taking in the slowly fading scents of Sam, Teddy, and the bundled shirt that smells faintly of Garret. It hasn’t been very long, but I miss their warmth already—and having strong arms wrap around me while I sleep. There’s just something about being held that makes me feel safe.
Steve has sandwiched himself on the other side of the bed between Teddy and Sam’s pillows. His high-pitched whimper comes again, just as sleep starts to pull me under. The bed shakes with his movements, and I reach over, touching his hand that’s closest to me, trying to wake him up from whatever nightmare he’s trapped in.
At the contact he hugs the pillow tighter, then a second later his hand is wrapped around my wrist. He squeezes hard and pain flares up my arm. His voice cries out. “Wait!” Before he suddenly lets go and curls into himself. His big body hunched and curled. He’s gained weight in the last week, but his shoulders are still nearly skeletal as his body is huddled down in the pile of bedding.
The room goes quiet again, only the quiet rustling of sheets as I rub my aching wrist and try to figure out what to do. A loud braying sob interrupts my thoughts, and I give up any chance of being nice and bolt across the room to turn the lights on. Brightness floods the space, but Steve continues to whimper and twitch.
Crud!
My arm hurts.
Do I have a stick or something around here?
I can poke him from a safe distance?
Yeah, it’s rude…but ow!
The alpha’s body thrashes, trapped in some nightmare. And I do the only thing I can think of to keep us both from getting hurt anymore—I grab Garret’s pillow and start smacking him with it until he wakes up. It only takes four good hits before he spasms and uncurls. His eyes slowly blink open, squinting against the light.
I shouldn’t have enjoyed that as much as I did.
No help for it now.
“What the fuck, Kelly! Jesus fucking Christ, are you kidding me right now? What the shit happened?” He blinks at me slowly from where he’s sprawled on the bed, and I’m still standing over him, pillow raised.
Would it be bad to hit him a couple more times, just because he’s being a butt?
Probably…but do I care?
“Ya’ got a lotta nerve askin’ me that, my dude. It’s too danged early…I’m tired, I’m crampy, I wanna cry…and you were flailin’ around and hollerin’. Plus, you grabbed me when I was tryin’ to wake you up. It hurts.” My speech is slurred with sleep as I wave my arm at him. The skin’s an angry red that looks like it’ll be a hand shaped bruise by morning. It’s too bad I don’t have something like Teddy’s cuffs here to…wait—
My still sleeping mind is tripping over itself. He just wears those as a style thing, right? They aren’t actually covering anything up, are they? My train of thought gets derailed when cool hands wrap around my arm, pulling it down so Steve can take a closer look.
“Fuck, Pixie. I didn’t mean to…Lemme go see if I can find an ice pack or something like that. What exactly happened?” He wraps his hand gently around my painful wrist and swears again when he sees how perfectly the marks line up with his fingers. His reaction is almost caring until he opens his mouth. “Sam is going to fucking kill me. Shit!”
So I do what any injured woman would do in this case, and my foot comes out, catching him in the stomach and forcing a loud grunt out of him. Clearly, this wasn’t well thought out though, since his hand on my wrist tightens, making me scream. Jake starts throwing himself against the door, his voice a loud braying bark as he scrambles against the wood. My eyes water as I untangle Steve’s fingers from around my arm and go to open the door.
Jake is on me a moment later, his cold wet nose running over my legs as he homes in on my injured wrist and lets out an almost puppy sounding whine as his head swings from me to Steve and back. The alpha is still on the bed, holding his lower stomach, and looking frustrated when Jake hops back and forth between us.
“Shit…Sorry, again. I didn’t mean that…well, I did. I mean, Sam and Teddy are both going to be pissed. But I didn’t mean to hurt you, either. Fuck…you kick like a goddamned mule.” He’s taking deep breaths as he slides off the bed, and I’m envious again of all the damned tall people. Sam built me a small set of stairs for the bed that first weekend, but these guys make it look easy.
Jake prances back and forth between us and I don’t know who he’s trying to protect as his big wet nose goes from Steve’s stomach to my wrist and back. When Steve gets close enough for me to touch, I give up. I can’t deal with more drama right now as another cramp makes me lean back against the doorframe.
“Come on, Jake-y, that’s enough excitement for one pupper. Let's get you outside for a potty break, and then…” I look over at the old pendulum clock hanging on the wall. “Cripes, let’s get back to bed, it’s not even four yet.” Holding onto Jake’s collar, I let him lead me down the stairs, and over to the backdoor. He’s more sedate than usual when he wakes up, and I’m clearly not the only one who feels like a zombie.
Standing there for a moment, I wait for him to finish and then trot back to the door. He stops in front of the steps and kicks his feet a few times, flinging grass and dew all over until I pat my leg a few times, and he comes running. Heading back through the kitchen, a startled shriek is forced out of me at seeing Steve standing by the stove.
He looks over at me, and nods to the fridge. “Can you grab out the milk…please. And the whipped cream if you want it.” What the heck do I want whipped cream for this early? He has a big canister of hot cocoa sitting out with measuring spoons, and the fire on the stove turned up way too high.
I pass him the milk and watch the kettle for a minute. “Do you think it’d be faster to just nuke a couple of cups of water? ”
He blinks at me for a minute before dropping his head to the counter. His reply is a muffled, “Probably,” before standing up, turning off the stove, filling two mugs with water, and putting them in the microwave.
He looks at me again and I reach in front of him to press the button for two minutes before stepping back. His voice is low, and I never realized that he doesn’t normally have the growl I’ve come to associate with alphas. “I really am sorry. You may not be my favorite person, but I don’t want you hurt, and I especially don’t want to be the one to hurt you. It’s not about Sam or Teddy or my brother liking you…not just about that.”
He’s quiet as the microwave goes off, and he pulls out the steaming mugs. He reads the side of the cocoa before carefully measuring out three tablespoons for each one, stirring, adding milk, and topping each one with whipped cream. Part of me wishes he would have just let me go back to bed, but this seems important to him, and his meticulous movements just emphasize that.
Instead of handing the finished cup to me, he sits it on the counter by my hip. “Sorry, I didn’t know…you’re hurt…I didn’t want you to get burned.”
His stammered explanation seems to embarrass him, and he tips his own drink up, taking a deep swallow before coughing and slamming it down hard on the counter near mine. “Fuck, that’s hot!” It takes effort, but I manage to stifle my laugh, and most of my smile before picking up my own drink and taking a small sip. It is hot, but cozy .
Steve follows me out to the couch and sits beside me instead of his usual spot on the other end. My stomach twists, waiting to hear whatever spiteful stuff he’s going to throw at me. I’m too tired and I don’t feel good. The hot chocolate is probably just something to get my guard down.
He takes a sip of his own drink before setting it down on the coffee table. Jake hops up on the end of the couch and leans heavily against the alpha, letting out a grunt before flopping down on the cushion and putting his paw on Steve’s leg. If Jake was human, it would look like a gesture of comfort, and Steve scratches him behind the ears before turning back to me.
“Kelly, I’m sorry. Also, just a heads up, I suck at apologies, so let me get this out before you kick me again.” A small smile curves the edge of his lips, and he rubs at his stomach.
“It’s not your fault. I appreciate you waking me up earlier, and I’m sorry I hurt you. Feel free to hit me with a pillow any time you need to. I…I usually have problems with sleep. The last week with all of you has been the best rest I’ve had for as long as I can remember.”
He stops to take another sip of his drink and looks like he’s reorganizing his thoughts. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I mean, that’s pretty obvious, but…I’ve been lying to myself for nearly a decade that if I just kept going, if I just did what Dad wanted…if I just did everything he wanted, things would be good. Clearly, I’m an idiot, because that was never going to happen. ”
Rubbing his hands together, he laughs softly to himself. “I can’t even believe how fucking stupid I was. Hell, I’m sure Garret knew, but if he tried to tell me, I wouldn’t listen. I was so focused on this one thing—work hard, make Dad happy, get Teddy. I never stopped to think that Teddy might move on. I never told him I was coming back, so why wouldn’t he? I mean…shit, even if I had told him, I fucking suck, and my life is a complete dumpster fire, why the hell would he want to wait?”
Steve’s voice cracks, tears rolling down his face. His voice wobbles, but he keeps going. “I don’t hate you…I don’t even dislike you. I mean, you’re smart, you’re kind…that perky thing is kind of annoying and your sense of humor is terrible , but if I wasn’t so fucking jealous, I think you’d be one of my favorite people here. Certainly, the one I can actually talk to. Moreover, I hate that I’m like this. I know I’m being an asshole. I see it happening and I try to stop, but my mouth just keeps fucking going.”
He takes a deep, shuddering breath as Jake pokes him in the side with a wet nose. Steve’s hand comes down, absently stroking the big dog’s ears. “Teddy’s not here, Sam’s not here…Fuck, not even my brother. There’s not one person in this whole fucking house for me to be jealous about right now. And while that seems to have brought back some of the nightmares, it does mean I can actually talk to you without being a raging asshole.”
His lopsided smile would be cute if his eyes didn’t look so haunted. “I’ve never had friends, Pixie. I had Garret, and later Teddy. We weren’t allowed to bring friends home very often, and we weren’t allowed to go to anyone else’s house, not until him. Dad said we’d be enough for each other, and mostly we were, but it means I don’t really deal well with anyone else. My social skills are pretty much non-existent and I don’t know if it’s because of how I grew up, or there’s something actually off with my brain, but most people don’t feel real to me.”
Well, this just went into psycho territory. My fingers wrap around the handle of my almost empty mug as I lean away from the man who just admitted that he thinks like a serial killer. He turns to track my movements, his eyes growing wide as I lift my cup. “What the hell…I’m not going to murder you! God, overreacting much? It’s not like that. It’s not like this big dramatic thing. ‘Oh, people don’t seem real, so I kill them.’ What the fuck, way to take my opening up and throw it back in my face. Jeez.” He slumps on the couch, looking sulky.