9. Day 29 – Jake
Day 29 – Jake
T heo’s head jerks up when I slam the door to my truck closed. “How’d you know I was here?”
I jerk my thumb to the door of the trailer behind him. “I didn’t. I came for Kenny’s suitcases. You look like shit.”
The stubble that covered his face a week ago is edging toward a full-grown beard. He glances up at me with reddened eyes, dark circles beneath them that probably mirror my own.
I study him. “Why’re you up here, Theo?”
He shifts over when I take a seat on the step beside him. Silence stretches out, before he sighs. “I keep thinking about how she was on her own up here. Rick left her. We were… doing what we were doing. And she was just counting down the days, Jake.”
She was so alone . I stare out into the dark forest. “I’ve had the same thoughts.”
They keep me up at night.
“It shouldn’t have been like this,” Theo whispers. His voice shakes. “None of it should have been like this. She deserved better than what she got, Jake. So much fucking better.”
“But you’re avoiding her,” I point out softly. “That’s not going to fix anything. Loitering in the corners of the Center isn’t going to help her either.”
Theo stares down at his hands, his jaw tight. “I don’t want her to have to… see me.”
It takes me a moment to understand. “You’re not him. She always knew that.”
“Every time she saw my face, it would have reminded her of Brett,” he says harshly. “How could it not? I can’t even look at myself without seeing him. It feels like he’s still fucking here, Jake. And every time I see myself, it’s a reminder of how much I have fucked this up. How much I am responsible for this. For Kenny . I should have known better.”
“He—,”
“Hell, I did fucking know,” Theo snaps. He sinks forward, gripping his hair. “I knew something wasn’t right. We all felt it. But he was my brother. My twin. I should have known. I should have protected her, but I wasn’t fucking there .”
His voice cracks, breaks. “And it was so much easier to blame her. To hold onto that fucking voicemail when I didn’t have anything else, but I. Should. Have. Fucking. Known . And I can’t fix it, Jake. But I can try to stay away. Maybe… maybe she can heal that way. I’m not going far. I can’t – I can’t leave her. Not again. But if we can bring her back… she’s not going to want me. And I don’t blame her.”
He's going to tear himself apart. Trying to force a distance nobody wants. I can see the desperation in every line of his face.
My hand settles on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off. “Theo—,”
“I’m just like him,” he says darkly. “Look what I did to her. I tried to use my bark on her. I pushed her and hurt her – we’re one and the fucking same.”
“You’re not the fucking same,” I snap. “Jesus, Theo. Brett had something wrong inside him.”
“And what if I do, too?” His breathing staggers. “What if it’s in me , too?”
I freeze. Tension settles into my spine, locking it upright. “Do you have the feral gene?”
His lips press together. “The paperwork said no. But my father fiddled Brett’s paperwork. He could have done the same to mine.”
Swallowing, I try to think around the panic that thought induces. And my breathing begins to settle. “Brett wasn’t feral when he took Kennedy up there.”
Theo pauses, his hands clenching his hair. “What?”
“He wasn’t feral,” I breathe. “He chose to do what he did. Feral alphas – yes, they’re violent, and dangerous. But Brett – he was already that, without the gene kicking in. He did what he did because he was a piece of shit, Theo. Would you ever do that to Kennedy? What he did?”
He sounds sick. “Of course I fucking wouldn’t.”
“Because you’re not him,” I try to make him see. “Get a new test, Theo. Reassure yourself. For Kennedy. For you. But don’t ever think that you’re anything like Brett.”
We should have known a long time ago that Brett was bad news. “We were kids. If he was still here, I don’t think he would have ended up part of our pack. Not in the end. We were starting to see it. We would have seen it.”
“But we were too late for her.” His gaze is sightless. “And look where we are.”
“Yeah,” I say heavily. “We were too late. But I’m going to be on time, every fucking time, for the rest of our lives, Theo. I’m going to put everything I have into her. And if you care about her, you’ll do the same. That’s what makes you different from Brett. Because it’s not about you . It’s about her. And Kenny fucking knows that you’re two different people. She always did. And if you’re still thinking it – now is your chance to prove that you’re not him.”
He considers my words in silence, then changes the subject. “I’m surprised you’re not there.”
Remembered irritation tightens up my shoulders, pulls a scowl to my mouth. “They threw me out. Twenty-four hour visiting ban. I can’t go back until tomorrow.”
Theo’s head snaps to me, shock widening his eyes. “They what? Why ?”
I stretch out my legs. “I… lost my temper.”
“ Why .” It’s a demand, not a question. His voice lowers, threading with something… darker. “What. Happened.”
Blowing out a breath, I tip my head back. “That whole set-up… it’s bullshit, Theo. She’s not going to heal like that. They’re treating her like an animal. And one of them… I saw him copying her. Laughing.”
So I tried to put his head through the window.
“Fucker.” Theo jumps to his feet, a new mask of anger tightening his face. And fear, too. “What the hell ?”
“He was fired.” And I was banned.
Worth it. “We can’t leave her alone in there. Oscar’s fighting for twenty-four-seven visitation, so we can stay with her. She needs us, Theo.”
And we need him. He twists, staring as if he’s about to take off through the forest on foot. “Let’s go, then.”
My lip almost twitches. “You gonna get in the truck, or run there?”
He’s already prowling toward the truck, yanking the door open and muttering to himself. “He’s not still there with her?”
“Nope.” I stay where I am for a moment, studying him. “He won’t be coming back.”
Jaw tight, he nods. It takes me less than a minute to grab the small cases with her things and place them into the back of the truck before we start making our way back.
The lights are on at home, a tall figure poised in the window. Oscar looks up as we stride into the kitchen, answering the question already forming on my lips. His eyes slide to Theo. “We got some of it. But we need to talk.”
We take a seat, none of us bothering with drinks. Oscar flicks through the paperwork in his hands. “One of us stays with her at all times. Max is staying tonight.”
I take the list he hands me, scanning through it. “These are the only things we can take in?”
Nothing hard, I notice. Nothing sharp, or breakable. Blankets, Throws. Pillows. Clothes.
“For now,” Oscar murmurs. He looks exhausted, but he doesn’t stop scanning the words in front of him, as if double-checking. “Abrams is working on a short to medium term plan. Things we can test. Scenarios, to try to nudge her into different behaviours. The more we can prove, the better we can make it for her.”
Reaching forward, I carefully tug the papers from his hands. “You need to sleep, Oz.”
Oscar stares down at his empty hands. He blinks once. Slowly. “I… no. I’m fine.”
No, he’s not. “You haven’t stopped. I haven’t seen you eat anything in days.”
I switch my gaze from Oscar to Theo. He’s watching Oscar too. “You said it yourself. This could be… years.”
My throat threatens to close. “We can’t run ourselves into the ground in the first few weeks. Not when we need to be there for Kenny. There’s four of us in this pack, Oz. We can share the load.”
Slowly, Theo nods. “I can go through the paperwork. Double check everything, if that’s what you need.”
Oscar debates it. I can almost see the gears whirring. “I’ll grab a few hours, and then I’ll be back.”
He needs more than a few hours, but neither of us argue as he hauls himself up. His footsteps are heavy as he leaves.
Theo sighs. “I’ll do better, Jake. You’re right. Pass me that.”
Silently, I give him half the paperwork, and we settle in. It’s a combination of care arrangements, medication and care arrangements that make my jaw tighten further with every line.
Theo’s low curse has me looking up. “What?”
He’s reading rapidly, his lips moving. “My father paid for her to stay for three months. After that, we’ll need to find the money.”
And it’s been a month already. “How much is it?”
The number he lists makes the blood run cold in my veins.
We’re not rich. None of us, not really. Theo’s father might have it, but I know without asking that Theo would rather crawl over broken glass than speak to him, and I don’t blame him. When I see Charles Rivers, it’ll make what I did to the Center worker look like a warm fucking hug.
Theo flips the page over, grabbing a pen. I watch as he scribbles across the page, the furrow between his eyes deepening before he pulls out his phone, flicking through it.
I sit back in my chair, my eyes traveling around the kitchen.
Home. Our home, for our pack.
But if Kenny’s not here, what’s the fucking point?
“I could sell this place,” I test the words, letting them out into the air. “We could get something cheaper. That’d make things easier.”
It would buy us time to help her.
Theo’s head shoots up. His voice is hard. “No. This is your home , Jake. From your mom.”
But my mom’s not here anymore. I found her on the floor barely a foot away, screamed at the emergency workers to keep trying even as they shook their heads with pity in their eyes.
The way I screamed today, as Kenny’s heart stopped beating.
And I know my mom would understand.
The shake of my head is slow. “It’s not just my home. It’s ours now. It’s Kenny’s, Theo. But it’s just a house. It’s not as important as the people inside it.”
This is something I can do.
“She needs a home to come back to,” Theo says quietly. “If you sell, it means we think she’s not coming back. Do you think she’s coming home?”
I jerk. God, the thought hurts. “I hope so.”
Hope is all we have, and we only have scraps of that.
Theo doesn’t move. “Then you don’t sell this house. This is… it’s our future, Jake. All of us, here, together. There’s another option.”
“What?” I glance up at him, but he doesn’t look at me, his eyes running over the page again.
“We can make it work,” he says quietly. “Between us all. Oscar and I will need to get jobs. But we do have money to play with.”
His money, I realize. “That’s your college fund.”
“I’m not going,” he says tightly. “And I’d rather spend every cent of that money on her than on anything else, Jake. If we’re careful with it, cut back in other places, we can make it stretch.”
I’ve watched Theo work toward his dream for ten years. “You’re sure? We have other options. That was all you ever wanted. I mean… not now. But later.”
But he shakes his head. “There’s only one thing I want, and this is what she needs. This buys us time. Maybe even a few years, if we’re cautious.”
My fingers grip the table. “It won’t take that long. We’re going to bring her back.”
It won’t take that long.
It can’t.