Page 127 of Pack Me Up

“He’s right, honey, you need to come back to us now before we rage out and kill every doctor in sight who isn’t fixing you,” Saint says.

Colton and Cody press a kiss to each of her cheeks from opposite sides of the bed before saying, “Wake up now.”

Hunter grabs her foot, careful not to jostle any injuries. “We love you.”

I think our pleas were for nothing, but then I see it. Just the smallest tremor. Her eyelashes, a ripple in the skin above her cheekbone. I sit up straight, heart hammering.

“Saint,” I hiss. “She moved.”

He’s at her side in an instant, leaning over her like he could will her awake by force. “Brittney?” he says, his voice a gravel scrape.

Her lips part, a soft noise escaping. Her eyelids flutter, then squeeze tight, then open. Her pupils go wide, then contract to the hospital light.

“Hey,” I say, and my voice is a thousand times steadier than I feel. “You’re in the hospital. You’re okay.”

She blinks at me, then at Saint, then at the rest of the pack, like she’s counting heads. “You’re all alive?” Her voice is paper-thin, a ghost of itself.

Saint nods. “Yes, and we are all here.”

She tries to smile, but her face won’t cooperate.

The relief is so strong it makes me dizzy.

I squeeze her hand again, and this time she squeezes back, just barely. It’s enough.

We are all alive. We are still here.

She leans back, relief in every inch of her body as she looks around at all of us and sighs.

Everything is going to be okay.

Brittney

OMEGA BUZZ GOSSIP COLUMN

FANS GRATEFUL BRITTNEY RYAN HAS RECOVERED

June 10th

If a heart could leap straight out of the chest and go crowd-surfing, mine would be halfway across the venue already.

I try not to think about the crowd, but even through three doors I can hear them, chanting and screaming. This is my first show back after the accident, and I’m scared.

The fans might hate me for the cancelled shows or I might not be ready to be back.

The doctor cleared me, but I’m still terrified.

My mates, Oli, her mates, Riley, and Tommy were all there for me as I recovered in the hospital. The Loomer pack tried to steal my life from me, but they failed, and I canfinallymove on.

I won’t let them take even another show from me.

The stage manager leans in, clipboard at the ready. “Two minutes, okay?”

Tommy looks at me. I can’t speak, so I just nod.

I close my eyes and imagine my pack out there, somewhere past the glare, ready to drag my sorry ass offstage if I face-plant.

The tech guy shoves a last bottle of water into my hand, then vanishes. The house lights snap out. My pupils dilate so fast it hurts, and for a second, it’s like floating in zero gravity.Then the strobes start, blue and white and sickly violet, painting everything in bruises.