Page 10 of Pack Coffey

I like the way his expression morphs into the fondness as he speaks of him. "How long have you guys been together as a pack?"

Tapping his chin for a second, he says, "Banks and Keaton met at their firefighter academy and then later ran into Saint. Then along came Henry when he covered one of their fires and interviewed them for a piece that he was writing. His family just so happened to be long-time friends of my family. The pack offered me room and board when I started classes here, and we all mesh so well that I just never left."

This information opens so many avenues of questions that I don't know where to start. I do, however, know where not to start since I still need to pretend to not know Saint. "You're happy being in a pack with them? Weren't they all kind of strangers, though?"

"Aren't we all at some point?" he counters. "Sometimes you just click with people and know that you're where you're supposed to be."

Glancing up, we lock eyes and he grins. Suddenly, it's more than his pack. For a moment, I can see him talking about me. I clear my throat softly. "Banks and Keaton are firefighters?"

"That's right," he confirms. "Your every day, average smokey Joe heroes. You'll like them."

Not that I would like them but that Iwilllike them. Like he's already got plans for us to meet in the future. He keeps going, completely oblivious to the point in which my brain stopped listening and got totally distracted. "You and Banks will be hilarious together. He's a lot like you are with the witty comebacks and teasing."

"How long have you been a pack?" I ask as I click to play another song, knowing I need to say a little something after this one.

His face scrunches up a bit as he thinks. "This'll be my third year with North U, so I've been with them for a little over two years now. They bought our pack house about three years before that, so it's been a minute. You'll have to come see the house sometime. You'll love it."

"Sure, that'd be fun," I reply, trying my best not to feel like I'm lying. I don't want it to bleed into my scent and give anything away since I'm not sure that would be acceptable in mine and Saint's position. Lines probably shouldn't be blurred while we're working this case together.

Luckily, the song ends, and I've got to speak to our listeners before lining up a few more songs for them. It cuts off our previous conversation as he praises me, "You're a natural at this. Like you were born to do it."

I debate for a second about telling him about my podcast. It's nothing to be ashamed of, but I don't like to brag about it, either. Deciding to go with my instincts, I confess it to him.

"Really?" he asks, genuinely surprised. "That's really cool actually. Saint would probably trip all over himself for that. He's into all of the true crime stuff." He stops and shrugs a shoulder. "Probably because he's a detective with our local department."

The subject matter I'd hoped to avoid has gone full three-sixty and come back to haunt me. We talk for the next several hours, making time pass by quicker than it seems. He tells me allabout his pack mates and what he sees for himself in the future of being a radio personality or a doctor. He hasn't decided which yet.

I like the way he makes me laugh. Even in the smallest of ways like when he's not trying to. I focus on the music and listeners when I need to, but other than that, he has my full, undivided attention.

As our night starts winding down, he offhandedly comments, "I hope this doesn't come off the wrong way, but you smell different tonight. Almost like..."

His words run off into a pause before his expression morphs into confusion. "Saint?"

I'm not going to deny it if he's so plainly calling me out on it like this, but I don't think it's me he's talking to anymore. As tall as he is, he can see straight through the window to the front door. I, however, have to stand out of my seat to look out. Saint is standing at the front door with his hands in his pockets and back in his baseball hat.

"Damn," Lawrence says, standing and moving toward the door. "Sorry, he's probably here because I stood the pack up tonight."

I add two more songs to the playlist before quickly following him out into the room. I make it just in time to watch not just Saint, but three other guys come inside. The fact that I'm now in here with five practical strangers should make me nervous, and don't get me wrong, it does. However, not for the reasons it should. They have a calm sort of peace about them that makes me feel safe immediately.

"It was nice of you guys to come over here to get me, but—"

Lawrence gets cut short as Saint points at me and cuts him off. "Sorry, bro, but we're here for her, not you."

All eyes turn to me. Four practically identical expressionsof confusion and one of humor. My heart rate picks up as a flush comes to my cheeks with all of their attention now on me. One look at Saint, though, has my lips tilting up in a smile. An action that he instantly mirrors.

He gives them about twenty seconds to stew on their thoughts before he tells them the truth. "Darci is my new partner. The department's newest civilian consultant. She smelled just like you this morning when we went for a ride. Figured I'd give you a little dose of payback for trying to skip out on drinks tonight."

"I forgive you, Saint, because it appears Lawrence was trying to keep Darci, here, to himself," one of the others tells Saint, teasing Lawrence and stepping forward to introduce himself. "I'm Banks, by the way."

I offer a short wave and a smile. "Hi."

Lawrence wakes up from his shock and introduces his other two pack mates before turning to me. "You concocted this plan with him? Here I was thinking we were getting to a level of trust."

He’s grinning as he says it, so I know not to take him seriously. Hiding my laugh behind my hand, I try to half-heartedly apologize, "I'm sorry. He said it'd be funny."

"The look on your facewaspriceless," Henry tells him with a smile.

I think I've got them down pretty quick. Not too hard when they're all so delicious to look at. Henry's hair is long like Lawrence's, but it's so dark that it looks black. He's built like him, too, on the skinny side, but shorter like Saint. Banks and Keaton are both stacked in the muscle department as I'd expect from firemen, having to carry all of their heavy equipment. They're both around the same height, but they're like night and day of each other. Banks has short, blond hair in a high-top cut with ice-blue eyes, whereas, Keaton's is brown, slightly longer ontop, with sideburns. His light-brown eyes speak of kindness as he quietly takes in the exchanges of his pack.

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