Page 143 of Gigi and the Gym Rats

I look around for Casey but he’s left the kitchen. Hadn’t noticed him going. Probably carrying stuff to the dining table.

Or hiding.

Like, the moment James entered the kitchen, he made himself scarce.

Is this a pattern? It’s as if he isn’t comfortable around alphas except our own two, and I don’t know him well enough to compare to how he was before he was kidnapped by his family and sold off to the Black Dogs. He claims he doesn’t recall much from those two days he was tied up to that bed, and the hormones of his heat could justify that to a point, but… But I think some trauma lingers. Which makes perfect sense.

My heart clenches in sympathy. We have tiptoed a lot around the topic of his kidnapping and he has assured us more than once that he’s fine, that he sleeps well, that he doesn’t have nightmares.

But last night I woke up to find him standing by the window in the dark, and it wasn’t the first time.

He has made his formal report to the police and filed for a restraining order which was granted—both against his family, and the psycho pack. Still, we are vigilant, all of us, keeping an eye on him. He carries a pepper spray with him at all times—and in fact, so do I, nowadays. His kidnapping has made me more cautious, which is a good thing, I guess.

I hope time and our love will help him heal. The trauma is deep, the trauma of a family who didn’t appreciate him and didn’t consider him a human being with rights and feelings, who thought controlling his every move and dictating his future was fine. That selling him off to the highest bidder was perfectly okay.

Fuck them.

He’s safe and loved with us, and I hope he feels it, that he trusts it.

That he trusts us.

Because he’s wonderful and he has claimed a spot in my heart.

* * *

My thoughts wander from Casey’s ordeal to finding Grey on the street and his own sad story, and then to my brother.

I need to call my mom, see her. I haven’t managed lately, too busy with my pack.

A good, wonderful kind of busy, but still. We need to talk about Travis. About Dad. About all the things I’ve realized, and how they have changed me. I’m not the same person I was a couple of months ago, not anymore. And I bet Travis isn’t, either.

I should try calling him again. See if he’ll open up more. Really talk to me. Maybe we could meet.

“Sophie is sad you guys left,” Sawyer is saying. “She’s all alone now in the apartment over the café.”

“Eat up and stop trying to make us feel guilty,” Ronin says. “We’ll find her new awesome roommates, though never as awesome as us.”

Sawyer snickers, takes a sip from his wine.

“I bet she barely noticed we’re gone,” Casey says. “She’s so busy with her work.”

“Oh, she noticed.” Sawyer sighs. “But she’ll be fine. She’s strong.”

“Is she okay?” Ronin asks with a frown.

“Sure she is. No worries.”

Snatches of conversation, barely filtering through my brain. I’m still thinking about my brother. Maybe Mom could join my reunion with Travis. We could mend our family. Start mending the past.

Casey is sitting beside me, which he often does, Grey on his other side, and we’re flanked by our alphas. I honestly don’t know if it was a conscious decision. It’s like the typical spread of a pack. We’re typical.Go figure.I always thought my purpose as a beta was to find my one true beta partner, but apparently a beta or two in a harem are pretty common.

Mom had convinced me otherwise.

I need to talk to her, like, really. Why this aversion to packs, huh? After seeing how my dad and Travis suffered, why did she instill this so-called truth in me?

I can’t blame her for everything, for how I was thinking, but I hope to tell her that she could change her mind too. She’s only forty-two. She’s still young. Never too late to find happiness in life, right? If she would like to be in a pack, that is. Has she ever considered the idea? She?—

“Gige.” Ronin waves a serving spoon at me. “Meatloaf?”

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