Page 38 of Coco and the Misfits (The Candyverse #4)
COCO
W e drink hot chocolate, eat cake, and watch anime on my laptop. Sawyer’s alphas decide to sleep by the door, on a pile of covers, military-style. The rest of us pile up on the sofa together—me, Sawyer, Brinlee who is their delta, and Roman, their beta.
A puppy pile, cozy and warm, arms and legs tangled, keeping me from thrashing with nightmares in my sleep.
The truth is, I don’t remember any dreams when I wake up in the early morning. A sense of dread lingers, though, which tells me I probably revisited every angsty thought and experience while my body tried to rest.
My wrists and ankles ache, the welts warm and throbbing. I stare down at them, frowning, yesterday’s events replaying in my mind in horrifying detail.
I don’t want the details. I don’t want to think about that at all.
“Coco.” Sawyer lifts his head, his dark hair mussed up. He looks adorable. “Get back to sleep. It’s early.”
“Mmm, yeah.” Brinlee twists about, throwing a leg over him. “S’ early.”
Roman cracks an eye, sees me sitting there and sits up, too. “Does it hurt?”
What part? The betrayal of the three alphas? The ordeal of the almost abduction? The welts on my wrists and ankles? The ache in my head?
“I’ll go look for a first aid kit,” he says quietly, slipping off the sofa and heading toward my bathroom.
I rub at the welts. The pain is welcome, distracting me from the memory. Roman returns quickly and sits cross-legged beside me. He sets out to rub ointment into the welts and wrap them up in gauze.
That’s also distracting, a buzzing at the edge of my thoughts, blunting their sharp edges.
Meanwhile, Kyrian and Archer, Sawyer’s alphas, are already up, making coffee and pancakes, bless their souls.
Eventually, the pack has to leave. They give strict instructions on locking up everything and not letting anyone inside. I’m starting to feel like Snow-white and the Seven Dwarves, repeatedly told to not let the evil queen into the house.
What am I going to do? Stay in my apartment forever? I call work, tell them what happened and that I won’t be going in today.
That results in Bee calling me in a panic. Then Gigi. Then June. My friend network is alive.
I’m not telling my parents, though. No way. The last thing I want is a lecture on safety, on how I shouldn’t be living alone, and being told to go back home. I’d fight with them, and I don’t want to fight, not today. I’m tired. Exhausted.
Can I have some time without fear and stress? A few days without having to adult? Sawyer and his pack are doing a good job of babying me, but that’s also not what I need. I need… a pack. My pack.
So that I can feel safe and cherished, feel like I belong.
Gigi says she will accompany me to the police station, which is a relief.
Everything is fine. My friends won’t let anything happen to me.
She arrives and wraps me in a huge hug, then gets me ready. Still, as she and I go down the stairs, I get flashbacks and start shaking. She holds my hand tightly, watching me with worried eyes.
I’m fine. I’ll be fine.
Nothing prepares me, though, for when we come out of the building and three tall figures loom across the street, facing our way.
My three alphas are standing there, faces set in worried lines, hands clenched at their sides.
My alphas. Ha. As if.
“Want to talk to them?” Gigi asks, looking from them to me and back.
“No.”
“Are you sure, girl? They seem to have waited here a while.”
“No. Yes.” I swallow hard. “I need a break, Gigi. From them. To be able to think. It’s been a mess.”
“Okay. Whatever you want, girl.” She hustles me toward the car her omega, Casey, is driving. He waves at me from behind the wheel and I nod at him.
Smiling is beyond me right now.
I feel the gazes of the three alphas on my back and I don’t know what I’m doing. What I should be doing.
Is there a manual somewhere about the affairs of the heart?
* * *
The police officer who takes down my testimony is brisk and efficient. We go over the details twice more anyway, to make sure everything is correct.
He then offers me coffee and says that my three alphas already came in this morning and that our accounts match. He also says that the two assholes who grabbed me are wanted criminals and will stay in jail until their trial, and probably long after that.
I think he takes pity on how shaky I am and wants to reassure me that my two wannabe kidnappers won’t be back on the streets tomorrow.
It helps a little.
Recounting yesterday’s events is hard. Reliving every moment three times makes me feel sick. All I want to do is go home and curl up under my covers.
Tomorrow, I promise myself. Tomorrow will be better.
“Come home with us,” Gigi says. “Stay over for a few days. It will be fun. Let us look after you. We are your friends.”
“I know,” I whisper, “thanks, I...”
“Think about it,” she says.
But getting back in the saddle is the best way to move on, yet again. The two bastards are behind bars and I need to keep living, not let myself be coddled, reinforcing my fear.
Meanwhile, my phone blows up with text messages from everyone I know, including Zach, Ryder, and Atticus. They are asking how I am, how it went at the station, if I need anything.
If they could come over to see me.
Blinking back unwelcome tears, I turn my phone off.