Taken In by the Pack: Second Chances (5 page)

❖ ❖ ❖

I finally managed to zone out for a while, and by the time I looked up, it was nearly evening. It startled me, but I was also relieved. Apparently I wasn’t a complete, hopeless mess. Yet.

I went back to the kitchen, and prepared myself a generous salad, with lots of veggies and a simple vinaigrette, then returned to the couch to eat. Once I had finished my meal, I turned off the television. I washed all the dishes that had been used that day, then went to my bedroom to get ready.

I took a quick shower, but once I was out I took my time, making sure my hair was neat, a little front section on each side pulled back and clipped together on the back of my head. I then put on eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick, and even a bit of blush. For me, I was heavily made up.

Deciding what to wear was easy enough, at least. It was a bonfire, out on a farm. So, cutoff jeans and one of my favorite baby doll tees. It was just short enough that when I moved right, a little skin would show at my midriff, without looking outright skanky most of the time. Some cute sparkly earrings and a comfy pair of flats, and I was ready.

It occurred to me that it was somewhat odd that I was putting so much time into my appearance when I wasn’t especially interested in attracting guys; still, I enjoyed making myself look nice. I was attractive, and I knew it, and it was fun to show it off, even if it wasn’t for a particular purpose.

I checked the clock on my phone; it was about time to go, it should just be getting fully dark as we arrived. I grabbed a little purse and stuck my essentials in it — wallet, phone, keys, tissues, and a little tin of mints — and headed out to my car.

I had arranged with Angie to give her a ride, so I went first to the campus to pick her up. I pulled up in front of her dorm, and shot her a text. When she came bounding out of the doors, I rolled my eyes, thankfully before she could see it.

She was dressed like a bizarre cross of a hippie, an 80’s hair band girl, and a hooker. Half of her bushy blond hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, the other half loose and fluffy. She had on an oversized midriff tee that hung off one shoulder, exposing the hot pink sports bra she had on underneath. Then came the tight, short denim shirt and oversized glittery belt, and finished off with hot pink high heels.
Heels!
To go to a farm!

As she opened the car door and flopped into her seat, she gave a little squeal; she looked like she was about to start vibrating from excitement.

She looked me over like I had her, except instead of rolling her eyes, she beamed at me. “You look
fabulous
, Adalyn! And here I was worrying you’d be a stick in the mud.”

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes yet again. “Who said I won’t be? I’ll just be a very
good looking
stick in the mud.”

She snorted softly. “Whatever. Come on! Let’s go!” she squeaked, bouncing slightly in her seat. I giggled; I couldn’t help myself. Her enthusiasm was catching.

“Yeah yeah yeah, miss impatient!”

I pulled out, still giggling, and we hit the road, heading out of town. Angie turned on the radio, and cranked it up until I was starting to cringe from the volume. We rocked the whole way, having a wonderful, laughter-filled time.

❖ ❖ ❖

I’d timed it beautifully; there was just a soft splash of glowing color on the horizon as I parked my little Prius among the other vehicles — mostly trucks and SUVs, with a couple of motorcycles and cars thrown in for variety. It looked like it was a larger gathering than I’d expected.

We got out of the car, and to my surprise, Angie was actually able to walk on her ridiculous-looking heels. That took some serious talent, not to immediately sink into the ground and get stuck, but somehow she managed it. We made our way over to the crowd, around the fire that was roaring to life.

Angie quickly spotted Josh, and waved emphatically to get his attention. When he spotted her, and took in her outfit, I could see him suppressing shock and laughter. He managed well enough, and if Angie had noticed the effort, she didn’t acknowledge it. She ran over (how in the world was she
running
on the soft dirt in heels?!) and threw her arms around his neck in an exuberant hug.

“Thank you so much for inviting us, Josh!” she gushed. He laughed and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Well, I couldn’t very well not. But it was my pleasure.” He lifted a hand, waving at me. I gave him a small, somewhat tight smile in return. There was something odd there, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I nodded to the red-headed guy that had been with Josh when he invited us. I couldn’t remember if I had heard his name or not.

Angie seemed happy enough trying to hang all over Josh, who didn’t seem to mind, so I looked around the rest of the crowd, and our surroundings. There were several knots of people around the perimeter of the large firepit. It was really a very lovely spot, on a hill overlooking a long valley, verdant green meadows studded with trees and the occasional building. Of course, it was too dark to make out more than the vague outlines, with sunset little more than a memory and the moon at three quarters, but I’d been here before, and a vague outline was enough for my mind to fill in the details.

I made my way slowly around the fire, smiling and greeting those people I recognized.

As I reached the far side, I noticed a large knot of people, about a dozen or a few more, who were just far enough from the fire that they were mostly shrouded in flickering shadows. There was something rougher, wilder almost, about this group in comparison to the rest of the largely college-student crowd. I thought this group must have been the owners of the few motorcycles I saw; they definitely had a feel that reminded me of nothing so much as a motorcycle gang.

As I looked the group over, I recognized three faces very well indeed.

One of the young men in the group that I recognized was our host, Troy, whose family owned this farm, and a great deal of the woods around it, as well. I knew him somewhat well, I’d come here for other gatherings and trail rides and the like. It seemed odd that the generally good-natured college boy was hanging out with such a rough-seeming crowd.

The second face that was all too familiar, was Bryson, standing several inches taller than any of the others. I was stunned to see him here again, in the last place I would have expected him. In that moment, I couldn’t have told you if it was delight, fury, or fear that made my heart rate spike when I saw him.

With the third face I recognized, however, I was nearly overwhelmed by a combination of both fury and fear. Adrenaline coursed through my body with every rapid, pounding heartbeat.

It was Mr. Mutton Chops himself, the man who had been following me. Standing right there next to Bryson as if they were the best of friends. The parallels between Bryson’s behavior, following me to the coffee shop and then to Applebee’s, and the older man’s the next day, reared up and slapped me in the face. How had I not made the connection before?

Abruptly, I was so outraged I could barely see straight, completely drowning out any fear.

❖ ❖ ❖

Apparently, Angie had not simply stayed to hang on Josh; she was suddenly at my side, taking my arm and pulling back on it slightly.

“Adalyn, what is it? What’s wrong?” I’m sure even someone who didn’t know me at all could recognize my anger for what it was; it was no issue at all for my friend.

I jerked my chin at the group. “Bryson. And the guy who was following me,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “All effing buddy-buddy.”

She looked in that direction, her eyes getting wide as saucers. “Oh shit.”
That about sums it up, yep.

I started to move forward, feeling as though my feet had minds of their own. Angie tugged on my arm, trying to stop me.

“Ada, no! What are you gonna do? I mean, really. Come on, let’s just go hang with Josh and Pete,” she begged.
Huh. Pete must be the red-head’s name.

With a little effort, I shook my arm free from Angie’s grasp and stalked towards the group, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. They had been chatting and laughing, but they gradually fell silent as I reached them. Apparently, they all knew who I was and why I was there, as they parted a path in front of me, straight to Bryson.

I had a fleeting sense of ridiculousness, like a petitioner entering the court of a king, walking in between the parted halves of the courtiers. The flash of absurdity did nothing to calm my anger, however; if anything, it just added fuel to the fire.

I stalked right up to Bryson, glaring up at him, despite the fact that he towered over me by nearly a foot.

“Adalyn Royse,” he said, oddly formal and with a soft solemnity, which did nothing to dispel the silly feel of a king’s court.

“What the literal
fuck
is going on, Bryson?” I hadn’t intended to, but it came out a shout, and people around the fire looked over, many falling silent.

“Ada, Ada, shhhh,” he tried to quiet me, reaching to put a conciliatory hand on my shoulder.

Before my incipient action even processed in my mind, my hand pulled back, then swung forward, connecting with his face with a resounding
crack!
He looked at me in total disbelief, his handsome face gone nearly slack with his surprise.

The response from the rest of his little group was more frightening, however. They circled around me, not entirely like the way children in a yard will circle around two people fighting in the movies, except there was a distinct threatening air to this circle. I could have sworn I heard one or two of them actually growl slightly. There was a shivery quality to the air that rose goosebumps on my arms.

Mr. Mutton Chops started to step towards me, looking puffed up like an angry bird. Bryson’s arm flew up, blocking his way as if intending to clothesline the older man. “Elijah, no.”

Elijah. It was strange to have an actual name to go with him. I barely even had the mental space to consider the commanding tone he took — and its instantaneous effectiveness — with the older man. He stepped back, beside and slightly behind Bryson. It did not decrease the bewildering menace I could feel battering against me.

As soon as Bryson was satisfied that Elijah wasn’t going to do anything, his hand flew out almost as fast as it had before, but this time towards me. I flinched, momentarily certain he was going to return the slap. And while there was a soft snap of skin on skin, it wasn’t to my face, and it wasn’t especially painful; just his hand connecting with my bicep.

He took a solid hold on my arm; not painful, but I definitely knew I wasn’t getting away unless he wanted me to. He turned away from the direction of the bonfire, and strode out of the circle, jerking me a shade too fast behind him. I stumbled a bit at his unexpected speed, then scrambled to keep up. I looked back towards the fire, which was dwindling with distance with alarming rapidity, wondering if I should call for help.

But this was Bryson. Surely he wouldn’t hurt me. Right…?

Chapter Four

Just as we got far enough away from the fire that I was getting genuinely nervous, Bryson stopped, and turned to face me again. I glanced back towards the fire again; about half of his little group had stayed close to the fire, and the other half —including Elijah — had followed us partway, but were far enough back from us that I didn’t feel that aura of threat coming off them. They didn’t appear to be talking, or doing much of anything, just watching attentively, as if they were afraid I was going to hurt Bryson, even though he was probably twice my size and four times as strong.

“Adalyn.” His voice was soft and firm at the same time, as he tried to pull my attention back to him. My mind finally made the connection, that this was the voice of someone who was used to being in charge, and being listened to without question. It seemed like the voice of someone completely different than the sweet boy I had dated years ago, and yet it was the same voice. Still, I looked back up to him as he had intended. He was certainly as handsome as he had ever been, and even more alluring.

What in the world is going on?

I could feel tears trying to well up in my eyes. I was so completely confused; by him, by my own actions, and not least of all by this strange and threatening group.

“If I let go, will you stay and listen to me?” He sounded so calm, so rational, as if nothing at all out of the ordinary had been happening.

I tried to answer, but I couldn’t find my voice, so I merely nodded slowly. He let go of my arm, but kept his hand close to it for a long moment to make sure I would stay put.