Page 37 of Stuck with my Pack
The list of violations stares back at me, a stark reminder of just how much she’s up against. And yet, she’s still fighting. She’s always been a fighter. It’s one of the things I love about her.
But love isn’t enough—not if she doesn’t trust me. Not if she keeps shutting me out.
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair as I stare in the direction she went. If she wants to fight this on her own, I’ll let her. But I’ll be damned if I let her do it alone.
16
SOPHIE
The moonlight filters through my window, faint and cold, casting soft shadows on the ceiling. I lie awake, staring at it, letting my thoughts spiral out of control. Ethan’s confession echoes in my mind, each word sharp and raw, cutting into the fragile calm I’ve been trying to cling to. I spent the day alone, trying to get control of my spiraling thoughts and failing miserably.
“I still fucking love you.”His words play over and over again in my mind.
I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that will block the memory. But it doesn’t. It only brings up more—Ethan’s intensity, Brodie’s quiet confidence, Tyler’s teasing grin.
My heart feels like it’s being tugged in three different directions, each one impossibly strong. How did I get here? How did they all get under my skin like this? I always assumed I’d never find a pack and now the allure of having one is addictive.
I let Brodie knot me.
I roll onto my side with a frustrated sigh, the sheets tangling around my legs. It’s too much. The emotions, the guilt, the confusion. I don’t know how to make sense of any of it.
A faint noise cuts through my thoughts—a low, muffled sound coming from downstairs. I freeze, straining to listen. For a moment, I think I imagined it, but then it comes again, sharper this time.
It’s a voice. A distressed one. My heart pounds as I sit up, recognizing it.
Tyler.
I throw on my robe, the soft fabric brushing against my skin as I move quickly to the door. The hall is quiet, the only sound is the creak of the floorboards under my feet as I head for the stairs. The noise grows louder as I descend, low murmurs punctuated by sharp gasps.
When I reach the main room, I see him. Tyler is sprawled on the sofa, his body tense and thrashing, still wearing the day’s clothes. His face twisted in anguish. His voice is hoarse, muttering unintelligible words that tremble with fear.
“Tyler,” I call softly, crossing the room to him. He doesn’t respond, lost in whatever nightmare has its claws in him. My chest tightens at the sight—he’s always so confident, so steady. Seeing him like this feels like seeing a mountain crumble.
I kneel beside him, gently shaking his shoulder. “Tyler, wake up. It’s just a dream.”
His eyes fly open, wild and unfocused. His hands reach up to painfully grip my upper arms. For a moment, he looks at me like he doesn’t recognize me, like he’s still trapped in whatever darkness chased him in his sleep.
I keep my hand on his chest, grounding him, my voice steady and soft. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here.”
His breathing is ragged as he rubs his face, his hand trembling slightly as he releases me. “Shit,” he mutters, his voice rough. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” I say firmly, sitting beside him on the edge of the sofa. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He hesitates, his eyes flicking to mine. For a moment, I think he’ll brush me off, make some sarcastic comment to deflect, but then he exhales, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly.
“It’s stupid,” he says, his voice quiet. “Just…old shit. Stuff I keep thinking I got over a long time ago.”
I wait, letting the silence stretch, giving him space. Finally, he speaks again, his words halting at first but gaining momentum.
“My dad,” he says, his jaw tightening. “He wasn’t…kind. To put it lightly. He drank. A lot. It made him mean as shit. And when he got mean, he didn’t hold back.”
His voice catches, and he looks away, his gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance. “I spent most of my childhood waiting for the next blow. Trying to figure out how to avoid it. How to protect my mom. But it was never enough.”
“Tyler…” I reach for him, settling close to him.
“When I finally got big enough to give it right back to him, it was too late”
My heart aches for him, for the boy he used to be, carrying so much weight on such young shoulders. I place my hand over his, my touch gentle but firm. “Tyler, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
