Chapter 4
Juniper
Blinking my eyes open and groaning at the light that seeps through the curtain-less window, I try to roll over in the bed, away from the rays of sunshine that try to blind me. As soon as I hurried into my room yesterday, I spent most of the day in between panic attacks that left me exhausted and sluggish. By the time they’d passed, my feet dragging, I only had enough energy to fix up my bed. Even the cushions are still in the bags I lugged into my dorm.
Checking the time on my cell, I see that it’s just before eight. That gives me enough time to wake myself up, go in search of coffee, and head to whatever building I need to go to for my textbooks listed on the sheet of paper that came with my class schedules and maps of the school grounds. Not to mention, I need to find a pharmacy that will fill the new prescription I managed to get two days ago. Something I should have done yesterday but couldn’t bring myself to. Since I only have three pills left, it’s pretty fucking important that I do it today.
Crawling from the bed, eyeing it like there’s something wrong with it, I head to my duffle bag and pull out my clothes for the day. Still feeling the effects of yesterday’s emotional turmoil, still seeing Creek’s face in my mind like a projector beaming at me, I decide on comfy clothes. I dress quickly in a pair of leggings, old chucks, and a cropped black shirt, throwing my leather jacket on once I’m fully dressed. I run my fingers through my tangled tresses, doing my best to tame the wavy purple strands as best as I can. With only a brief look in the mirror, swiping my fingers beneath my black-stained eyes to tidy up yesterday’s makeup, I decide that’s as much energy as I have to put into myself for the day.
Grabbing my cell and keys, I head out of the room, locking the door after myself. I’m tucking my cell into the side pocket of my leggings when I open the entrance door to the dorm building, the crisp Fall air a welcoming rush against my face.
With a deep breath, I head down the steps carefully, still feeling a little weak legged and sluggish. Seeing Creek yesterday shook me more than I care to admit, and for more reasons than one. I mean, I haven’t seen him in eight years. My heart aches knowing he’s here, and I didn’t even fucking hug him like I should have. Instead, I froze like a deer in the headlights, fear gripping me so tightly that I could have barfed. Because if Creek is here, so are the others. And if they’re here, what’s to say the pack I left behind won’t find them, too? I’ve tried very hard to disappear over the years, especially after the letters started. The letters that kept finding me at every foster home I was forced to. They only stopped when I ran away, but I’ve lived on edge every day since, worried. Scared. Always looking over my shoulder for the moment they appear again.
Logically, I know they won’t find me. I mean, how can they? There’s no trace of me anywhere, foster care doesn’t know where I went, and I’ll surely be out of the system now that I’m twenty years old. They can’t find me. They can’t touch me. They can’t fucking hurt me anymore.
I’ve only just taken the last step, lost to my shitty thoughts, when I freeze at the sound of his voice.
“Hey, stranger,” Creek greets, lips tipped up in a crushing smile that would have me melting if my heart wasn’t stalling in my damned chest.
I can do nothing but stare at him in literal shock, wondering if my thoughts conjured the devil himself or if some form of divine intervention brought him to my proverbial doorstep. As it was, my common sense and paranoia kick in pretty quickly this morning, my brain still a little sluggish from yesterday’s meltdown.
“You following me or something?” I wonder, eyeing Creek closely. Close enough to notice how fucking hot he got. Not that he wasn’t handsome before, because lord knows he was. But now? Hell, younger me didn’t know how lucky she was.
Leaning languidly against the wall, holding two cups of steaming liquid, his defined body is practically on display for my perusal. Dressed in only a pair of jeans that look like they hug his ass snugly, a Henley shirt that looks molded to his impressive physique, and a ball cap that I know is hiding that honey-blond hair I used to run my hands through regularly, the man is a vision. A very pretty vision, though a surprising one.
Ocean eyes peer at me from under his cap, lips twitching like he somehow knows what I’m thinking, Creek pushes himself from the wall before approaching me. He’s careful about it, too, slow enough that it makes me feel like a skittish stray cat being confronted by a snarling dog. Only, he isn’t snarling. In fact, a smile I used to look forward to seeing is on his face, his broad shoulders are relaxed, and there’s an air of calm that surrounds him as he steps close enough that I’m instantly met with his strong scent. I can’t help but inhale the moment he’s near enough. Ginger and spice, strong and masculine, and somehow familiar and foreign all at once. An alpha scent, if I’m not mistaken. Hell, I should know how to recognize them after bartending as long as I have. One sniff and I can recognize an alpha from a mile away. Often betas, too, since their scents seem to be fainter, less overpowering.
I’m so beyond distracted by the scent wafting off his skin that it takes me a moment to realize he’s holding one of those cups out to me, eyebrows raised in question, and I swallow hard as I blurt, “What’s that?”
Lips twitching, he shakes the paper cup slightly, and says, “A coffee. Didn’t know what you liked, but I’m pretty sure that sweet tooth hasn’t wavered over the years. It’s a mocha. Three sugars. Enough to give you a cavity, I’m sure.”
I eye the cup, my mouth watering, and peer back at Creek. I want to take the cup, I really do, but I don’t know if I can make myself. I mean, I trust very few people nowadays, Mack being the only one I allowed partially into my life. It also hasn’t escaped me that he ignored my question, which has my hackles rising and my eyes narrowing on the handsome, creepy bastard.
“Take a sip first,” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest.
He laughs, shocked, but relents. I’m an idiot, because I didn’t account for the way that mouth would look taking a small sip of the hot coffee. The wince he pulls, however, tears my attention away. “That’s fucking sickly, J. Jesus.”
My lips twitch, and I hold my hand out for it, knowing it’s safe enough to drink now. Man wouldn’t have poisoned himself or anything, right?
Taking my own small sip, I sigh as my eyes flutter, the taste of heaven on my tongue. Since I never have enough cash for fancy coffee, I usually stick with a white coffee, adding heaps of sugar to it until it tastes more sweet than bitter. This is much better, the rich, chocolatey goodness melting in my mouth.
When I finally open my eyes again, I notice Creek has taken a step closer, the smell of warm ginger melding with smoky spice practically enveloping me in a warm hug I’ve needed for fucking years.
Swallowing hard, I tuck the cup against my chest and repeat my earlier question. “So, you gonna tell me how you found me? Last I heard, following someone is considered stalking. Pretty sure stalking is harassment. This the start of a budding harassment, C?”
Creek laughs, and I feel it to my bones. I feel the ache in my chest at the yearning to hear it again, the way I’ve missed hearing it. Of missing him, and the others, over the years.
With a little cringe, lips still tilted in a private smile I only ever remember him sharing with me, he confesses, “After you ran yesterday, I couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing you again. I might have followed behind you. I promise this isn’t a case of stalkery, though. Unless you’re suddenly into that thing.”
Only if it’s him doing the stalking , I think to myself, right before promptly squashing that thought and stomping all over it with my chuck-covered feet. Clearly, I need to either get a grip or catch more sleep. Maybe both. Both is good.
Rolling my eyes instead of reacting to the thoughts ping-ponging in my mind, I start walking towards my truck. Creek falls in step instantly, unbothered by my cold shoulder and lack of engagement, tucking his hands into the pockets of the jeans that really do hug his ass. Holy fuck. Just one quick glance and I already want to sink my teeth into those globes. Because clearly I’m too sleep deprived and fucked in the head for this shit this morning.
“Why’d you follow me?” I wonder, snapping my eyes to the sidewalk before me, praying he didn’t catch me looking at parts of his body I should not be looking at.
“That a real question, Juno?” he teases, nudging me with his elbow. I’ll be damned if my touch-starved body doesn’t break out into goosebumps at the innocent touch, though, my brain begging and pleading for another.
I offer a shrug instead of using my big girl words, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he’s here. He followed me, found out where I was staying, and appeared like a coffee nymph. Wait, how long was he even waiting? Can’t have been long, since the coffee is still hot. How long was he prepared to wait for me to appear?
Eyeing him carefully from the corner of my eye, I watch as his beautiful chest expands with a deep sigh before he explains, “I guess I wanted to see you again. I’ve missed you, J. So fucking much. Didn’t think I was ever going to see you again, so when I bumped into you yesterday, I thought for sure I was dreaming. Then you ran, and I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing you again.”
My throat closes, because I felt the same. My fear was riding me hard enough that I couldn’t think straight, but that didn’t stop all the longing from filling me from head to toe. If I were being honest with myself, I’d admit that I was cautiously ecstatic that he followed me, that he showed up here, that he was willing to wait for me to appear just so he could see me again. Not to mention the truth I can feel in his words, the vulnerability that he’s willing to show, even after I fucking chickened out and ran away like a kicked dog with its tail tucked between its legs. I just assumed they’d all forgotten about me after I almost died at the hands of Hershal fucking Henley. Convinced myself they no longer wanted to know the broken girl from a waste of space pack who lived out of a trailer park and would spend more days than one hungry and cold. Hearing the heartache in his worlds has me questioning my truth, my reality, and I wonder for the first time if maybe I’ve been wrong all these years.
It’s for that reason among others that I quietly confess, “I’ve missed you, too.”
I hear his sigh, his shoulders dropping from their tense position I hadn’t realized they were in, and he stops walking suddenly. I look over at him, and find his features morphed into an expression that both steals the air in my lungs and crushes my heart in the same breath. A longing, a craving , that I know all too well. Pain I’ve become familiar with. A need that I thought I was alone in feeling over the years.
Creek eyes me carefully, that stormy gaze peering into my eyes for a long moment before he must find something that offers him the courage to finally ask, “Can I hug you now? I mean, I did bring you coffee, after all. Pretty sure that, and waiting eight fucking years to find you again, means I get to have at least a hug.”
The offer is too tempting to pass up, even with all the paranoia in my mind. I know Creek won’t hurt me, would never hurt me. He isn’t them . All he did growing up was protect me, look out for me, made sure I knew that I was wanted with him. With him and the others.
I’m nodding before my thoughts catch up with me, and I’m suddenly wrapped in a pair of strong, toned arms that band around me without hesitation. My cheek is pressed against a warm chest, a thundering heartbeat pumping against my ear, very much in sync with my own. Creek’s chin falls to my head with a shuddering sigh, and with a heady whiff of ginger and spice, my body melts right into him as though it has a mind of its own. My free arm wraps around his back, fingers clutching at his shirt tightly, while my body practically molds to his.
“God, I fucking missed you, Juno,” he whispers against my head, hugging me tight enough that I almost lose track of where he starts and I end. It’s the best damned hug that I’ve had since the night my life turned to worse shit than it was before Hershal almost beat me dead.
Rubbing my cheek against his chest, I sigh as a sense of comfort washes over me. It’s as familiar as breathing, his touch putting the memory of it to shame, and I almost fucking cry right there and then as a wave of rightness overcomes me. A bone-deep knowing that this is how it should have been, what I’ve been missing, and everything that was supposed to be mine.
I don’t realize a whine has slipped through my clenched teeth, my eyes snapping shut so tight that I hope they trap the rotten, good-for-nothing tears from falling, and Creek’s arms hug me that bit tighter and he coos, “Shh. It’s alright, J. I’ve got you.”
I do my best to swallow the sound crawling from my throat, turning my face and burying it in Creek’s chest, and inhale him in with every breath until I’m almost dizzy on the scent. I feel his free hand running through my shortened hair, untangling knots I was too lazy to remove before leaving my room, before he squeezes the back of my neck and keeps his hand there. I don’t know why it feels good, why it feels like a form of security, but it seems to help calm my tremulous thoughts. The whine cuts off instantly, and I feel him rub his cheek against my head, the bastard scent marking me without hesitation. I can’t even be mad, because it settles something deep within me. Something that’s been raging and weird since I woke up in the hospital, alone and confused, and without anyone I knew or recognized .
I have no idea how long Creek holds me, strength unwavering as he keeps me tucked against him, but eventually my mind calms enough that I step back and peer up at him. He doesn’t remove his arm, keeping it wrapped snugly around my back as he looks down at me with a strange look I can’t decipher. I just know that I think I like it.
It gives me the confidence to admit, “You have no idea how badly I needed that.”
A seriousness washes over his face, and he answers with a quiet intensity. “Probably just as much as I needed it.”
I nod slowly, once more sensing the truth in his words, the frayed edges of my doubt unraveling further. A man doesn’t hug someone like that if he hasn’t missed them, hasn’t thought about them, hasn’t needed them in eight long, tortuous years.
When he brushes my hair from my face, it’s almost like those years disappear, only the sight of the grown-up version of Creek looking all the way down at me keeping me in the here and now. The smile that tugs at his lips almost launches me back to the past, but then he says, “So, what do I have to do to convince you to have dinner with me?”
“Dinner?” I ask, frowning, slightly dazed by Creek’s touch, smell, and handsome face. It’s such a shift of direction in whatever this is between us that it confuses me for a long moment, my thoughts tripping over themselves as I try to connect the dots instead of sinking into him like my mind is begging me to.
That grin finally breaks free and, as cliché as it sounds, it’s like the clouds finally part for the sun. It steals my breath, my heart, and sanity, and I can do nothing but swallow hard as he says, “Dinner. You know, that thing people do at certain times of the day when there's a meal in front of them, on a table, maybe wine or something. Conversation. Good lighting. Nice atmosphere. You know, dinner? ”
Well, now, that confuses me more, because that sounds very much …
“Like a date?” I blurt, eyeing the man like he’s an alien and not my long-lost best friend. Or, one of them, anyway. I try to ignore the panic the very suggestion of a date lures out of me. I haven’t been on a date in… well, shit. Ever , actually. Anyone who’s attempted to ask, I’ve turned down viciously. I don’t do dates, never wanted them. At least, not with anyone that wasn’t Creek, Evron, Geo, Leylan, or Lowie. Since I couldn’t have them, given I was all alone in the world, it seemed easier and safer not to bother with the bullshit of dating. I wouldn’t even know how to think of a date, let alone actually date someone.
Likely seeing the panic plastered over my face, Creek shakes his head quickly before a rumble creeps from his chest. He’s purring. The guy is fucking purring, trying to soothe my panic. And it works, too, my body gradually loosening from its tense position. “Not a date. Just dinner. A chance to catch up, to spend time with one another. I meant it when I said I missed you, Juno. More than I could ever tell you. Come to mine for dinner, hang out for a while.”
I find myself tucking my lower lip between my teeth, biting it as I contemplate his explanation. I see no reason not to go. It’s just dinner, right? What’s the worst that could happen? Hell, it’s a free meal and a chance to spend time with the guy I’ve missed like a lost limb.
My head is nodding before I actually decide to agree, and I’m blessed with another rare Creek smile that I’d love nothing more than to capture with the camera I left in my room. A camera that I bought second hand for a hundred bucks, one of my only prized possessions I go nowhere without. Unless I’m panic-attack-hungover and thinking stupid.
“Awesome. I’ll pick you up at seven. I’ll meet you outside your dorm building,” he rushes to say, practically tearing me into another hug that almost cracks my bones. Before I can utter a single word, Creek releases me, taking with him his comforting scent, before he points at me. “I left my number on your cup. Text me so I have yours, too. I’ll see you later, J.”
Then the bastarddisappears out of sight before I can part my mouth, for what, I don’t know. All I know is that I’m left standing in the middle of a sidewalk, confused and off kilter, holding a still hot cup of mocha and clinging to the scent that coats me from every spot Creek touched me.
Peering down at the paper cup in my hand, I turn it and my lips twitch when I find black ink on the white surface, Creek’s number scrawled neatly with a note that says ‘text me’.
Shaking my head, I turn and restart my journey toward my truck, slipping my battered cell from my pocket. It was the first thing I bought after my first off-the-books, cash-in-hand pay from a waitressing job I snagged at age sixteen. It’s seen better days, but it’s helped where needed, especially since the last cell I had was lost before I landed in the hospital on the brink of death. I lost every number I’d accumulated, lost all connections to the life I had before, and lost the only remaining ties I had to my boys.
Biting my lower lip, I type Creek’s number into the cell, before writing out a quick text.
JUNO : That was smooth. Thanks for the coffee.
A reply comes so fast that I don’t doubt Creek was holding onto his phone, waiting for me to text. I don’t know why that has me battling a confused smile, but it breaks free when I read his message.
CREEK : What can I say? I’ve got some game now.
Shaking my head, I slip my cell into my pocket without bothering to reply, ignoring the pang of jealousy that appears at the thought of him using this newfound game on someone other than me. I already know it’s irrational. I’ve been missing from his life for eight years. I can’t expect him to have been a saint in that time, to wait for me. I didn’t even think I’d see him again .
With an eye roll, my mood slowly souring at my stupid thoughts, I jump into my truck as soon as I reach it. I place the coffee in the cup holder, eyeing the thing fondly, before I pull away from the parking lot. Guess I’m going to distract myself with retrieving my textbooks and thinking of anything other than Creek and this upcoming dinner I’ve agreed to.
It only takes a few minutes for me to realize that Creek said dinner will be at his house. A house that, if they did as they said they would all those years ago, he shares with Evron, Geo, Leylan and Lowie. Ah, fuck.