Chapter Seven #2
Jalen turned his face into the bedspread, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
Chase shifted to lie beside him, one arm still draped protectively over Jalen’s waist. He knew the next few hours, even days, would be brutal.
Withdrawal was messy and ugly, and the emotional demons Jalen had been keeping at bay with the pills would come roaring back with a vengeance.
But Chase would be there through all of it. He would hold Jalen when the shaking got bad, wipe his brow when the fever set in, and guard him fiercely when the nightmares came.
And when Jalen was strong enough not to need Chase constantly at his side, Chase would make the uncle pay for every tear, every pill, every moment of pain he had caused.
* * * *
Preston lingered at the end of the long hallway, arms wrapped tight around his middle like he was holding something in. The echoes of Jalen’s breakdown—raw screams, desperate pleas, bitter words—had driven some pack members from the house entirely.
Those who remained weren’t trying to listen in. It was just hard to ignore such pain.
All Preston wanted to do was hug the guy. How many times had he come close to numbing the pain while running from Antonio? He knew that spiral intimately.
Preston just wanted to help in any way he could, even if that meant staying out of the way.
“Come here, sunshine.” Zeppelin’s arms encircled him from behind, warm and solid. Preston leaned in.
“Can we skip the market tomorrow?” Preston had invited Jalen out for ice cream but had secretly planned to spend time with him at the farmer’s market as well. It was something that brought him joy, and he’d wanted to share the experience with Jalen.
“We can do whatever you want, love.” Zeppelin guided him to their bedroom, where Preston’s own ghosts waited.
Jalen’s breakdown had stirred them up, but his mate helped him breathe through it.