Page 3 of Pack Down Bad

Jason shakes his head.

Usually, he loves a drink when he gets home after a long flight itinerary. One detail from a long list of things I know about Jason because when you think you might spend the rest of your life with someone, you want to know every detail about them.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Jason clears his throat. “I didn’t plan for a surprise snowstorm. We landed okay, but one of the flight attendants insisted on finding me a coat before I came out in this weather.”

“That was nice of her,” I say hoarsely.

How can he try to act normal at a time like this? Doesn’t he feel the world collapsing around us?

“I’m Jason. You must be Mia.” He turns to her and puts his hand out, waiting patiently for her to open her eyes.

“Hi,” Mia squeaks out.

She forces her eyes open, and there’s no mistaking the longing in her gaze as she looks up at my boyfriend. She glances at his hand but doesn’t offer hers. I look down and see her white-knuckles clutching the edges of her chair as if she’s fighting the urge to touch him.

The rational side of my brain knows that she can’t control this. That whatever internal battle she’s fighting right now isn’t her fault.

But I don’t want to be rational. I want to be mad and angry and hurt.

I want to flip her off or tie her shoelaces together. Either sounds appropriate.

Jason slowly lowers his arm back to his side.

I can’t watch this car crash of a meeting any longer. I set my phone on the bar so that I can use both hands to steady myself as I slip off the stool and stand. I’m trembling slightly as I face the two of them. No matter how many times I inhale, I can’t seem to gulp down enough air to ease the burning sensation in my lungs.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of a scent-match,” I croak out.

Mia turns to me, anguish in her eyes as her lips part, but she doesn’t manage to summon up any words to make this better. She’s always been the person I turn to when I’m hurting. Now she’s the one responsible.

Scent-matches aren’t exactly common among packs. In fact, a lot of packs are just people who fell in love and decided to bond, fate be damned. Some packs go a step further and hire services offering compatibility testing in hopes of finding a match.

And sometimes, you run into a person or pack whose scent drives you so wild that nothing in the world makes more sense than to sink your teeth into them, no matter the consequence.

I love fairytales so much that I write grand stories of fate and finding true love for a living. I want the fairytale for myself so much that I ache. Naturally, that means fate would give the guy I’ve been falling for a scent that just so happens to match Mia.

Fate can be a real asshole.

This is the first time I’ve witnessed a scent-match first-hand. We’re taught about all of the pack dynamics growing up, which is why I’m certain about what I’m seeing.

My parents were a scent-match. They all met in college, where my East Coast mom fell for the pack of California surfer boys who passed for brothers with their nearly identical floppy, light brown hairstyles. The four of them doted on each other from the beginning, all the way up until we lost my mom just a few years ago. My dads haven’t been the same since, forever mourning the loss of their perfect love story.

And now Jason and Mia are a match just like my parents were.

“Belle?” Jason takes a step toward me, so I take a step back.

My body is starting to go numb. I feel like I’m floating above the bar, watching this whole thing happen from a distance. Almost as if it’s happening to someone else.

If only.

“I have to get out of here,” I blurt out.

“Belle, no.” Mia hops off her stool and takes a few steps closer, leaving her standing right next to Jason. The two of them look better together than I want to admit.

“I need to think. I can’t wrap my mind around this. I need to get some fresh air and just... I need to think.” I’m rambling.

“Please stay,” Mia pleads. “We can talk this out.”

“What is there to talk about?” I laugh bitterly.

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