It takes us about two and a half hours to go fifteen miles.
The car seat started the entire fiasco.
Everything was going fine. We even snuck Sadie into the store under the guise of a service dog, even though I’m pretty sure I’m going to hell for doing so. But come on. It isn’t like we could just leave her in the truck, and the camper’s hot without the air conditioning running.
Granted... they did make us buy a leash first, and Caine seemed abnormally interested in how easy it is to pose as a service dog, but those aren’t the type of details to derail our trip.
It all started when Caine finagled the oversized box into our cart and we made the mistake of thinking we were done. I very clearly recall saying, "Well, the hard part’s over," because choosing one was a lot harder than I thought.
Seriously, why are there so many types of car seats?
But I digress.
Anyway—we thought we were done.
Hah.
Bun had other plans. Ron calls it an "epic blowout", I call it "sensory trauma". (For me—not her.) She thought the entire situation was hilarious. We unanimously disagreed.
Caine was forced to run back to the camper for the supplies necessary to deal with the situation.
Of course, things couldn’t end there. Oh, no. That’d be too easy.
As soon as we made it to the long line of self-checkout stations, Jer had to pee, this time declaring his entire brain was floating in it and he would burst like a bomb.
Well, guess what?
You get a lot of looks when you have a kid shouting about being a bomb. I’m half-convinced the cops were called.
Not to mention, we just came from the bathrooms. But it was fine. Lesson learned: never assume kids know if they need to use the restroom.
Andrew, thankfully, took Jer and Ron both while Caine and I checked out. Sara insisted she didn’t need to go at all. (This turned out to be wrong.)
What happened next?
Ah, yes.
Installing a car seat isn’t as easy as it sounds. We spent another thirty minutes in the heat trying to get it installed without being slightly tilted to the right, before Caine reluctantly agreed to try Andrew’s blue sedan.
It took us five minutes to install it in his backseat.
Five minutes.
After sweating for thirty, trying to fight the truck and wondering if we needed a different brand.
Then, five miles down the highway, when we thought we were free and clear, Sara was hungry. So hungry she became what the boys call hangry, which involved a lot of snapping every time someone called her name. Which Jer did. Repeatedly.
And then she desperately needed to pee, too.
So of course, we pulled over at the next giant truck stop for gas station pizza, snacks, and yet another potty break.
But the horror doesn’t end there.
Bun had another epic blowout, all over Ron this time.
And then she threw up.
Everywhere.
But did we give up? No. Caine insisted everything was fine, even though up to that point it was an entire dumpster fire. Maybe two dumpster fires. Andrew, the jerk, told me, "Some days are just like that."
Silly me.
I believed him.
And now?
We’re fifteen miles from where we started... and we have a flat tire.
By some insane miracle, the flat occurred near a section of wide shoulder Caine could pull onto, so at least the camper’s not in any danger of being rear-ended. Still, the road isn’t that far from us.
Ron ended up joining Sadie and the children in Andrew’s sedan in order to keep them corralled.
Which brings us to now, where we are three adults staring at the offending truck tire that’s become our collective last fucking straw.
"Does Lyre have triple-A?" Andrew asks, finally breaking our moody stalemate.
Great question, but... "No idea."
Caine pinches the bridge of his nose with a long sigh. "Grace, let’s get the camper settled for the day. We’ll have to rest here."
"Here?" Several cars whiz by, as if to emphasize my question. "Really?"
"We don’t have much choice. Andrew, find a place who will get our truck back to us before the end of business today, then call a towing service to take it there."
"Yes, High Alpha." He’s quick to turn on his heel and stride back to the car, briskly following orders without batting an eye.
Huh. Andrew’s surprisingly calm around Caine. I didn’t even spend a second thinking about it, but he’s adapted seamlessly into our strange little group. He’s been staying in the background, something he’s probably used to after a life spent following Rafe around, and hasn’t shown even a flicker of defiance.
I still can’t really trust him, but at least I know he’s capable of taking children to a public restroom, I guess. He hasn’t done a single shady thing. Okay—unless you count the stalking. But aside from that, the sketchiest thing he’s done is be without reproach.
He doesn’t even glare at Caine when the latter isn’t looking. He’s been, as loathe as I am to admit it, well-behaved.
"Grace."
"Huh?" Blinking at the handsome face suddenly taking over my field of vision, I backpedal about three steps. "What is it?"
Caine crosses his arms, his mouth turning down into a frown. "Why are you staring at him?"
"At who?"
"Him." His head jerks in the direction of Andrew’s sedan. It’s impossible to miss who he’s talking about, but he looks so surly, I can’t help poking the wolf a little.
"You mean Ron?"
He gives a faint rumble of displeasure, and I laugh. "Sorry. I wasn’t really staring at him. I was just thinking—he’s really taking this situation well, isn’t he? Doesn’t bug us with questions. Doesn’t complain."
His brow arches. "He is doing as he should."
Seriously, this man’s denser than a brick. "Don’t you think he should be angrier, after you killed so many of our pack? Maybe resentful you came in here and bulldozed his plans?"
"No." Caine’s upper lip lifts in a faint sneer as he looks in Andrew’s direction. "He values his life too much. And it isn’t me he’s loyal to. It’s you."
I shake my head. He’s wrong, but I don’t want to argue. Arguing means explaining he isn’t loyal to me, but Rafe. And I don’t want to think about that bastard for a single second more than I need to.
"I’ll get the kids," I mumble awkwardly, too grateful for an excuse to detach myself from this conversation. With us returning to Blue Mountain, I really don’t need him overthinking the situation too much.
I’d like to think I’ve gotten to know Caine well enough now to understand he doesn’t just go around slaughtering packs without reason, but... well, there’s a little tiny part of me convinced he might just decapitate Rafe or Ellie for looking at me wrong once we get there...
Wait.
I gnaw on my lower lip, thinking hard.
"Grace? Aren’t we getting the kids?"
"Yeah, but..." My decision’s made. Rolling my shoulders back, I stand as tall as I can, which is miserably short next to the oversized Lycan in front of me. "Actually, about Blue Mountain. I have a request... but you’re not going to like it."