Rejected and Pregnant I Fled The Pack novel Chapter 53

Chapter 53

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Chapter 53

Evelyn pov

I found Pete in the diner’s kitchen the next morning, going over the breakfast prep with his usual quiet efficiency, and something in my chest tightened at the thought of actually saying the words out loud.

“I need to ask you something,” I said, and he looked up immediately, some instinctive concern already crossing his weathered face at my tone.

“Everything alright?”

“I need to go back,” I said. “To the pack I left. Not forever, I don’t think, but for a while. I need someone to run things here while I’m gone.”

Pete set down the spatula he’d been holding, wiping his hands on his apron, studying me for a long moment with the kind of careful attention that had made him such an unexpected anchor over these past eight months. “You sure about that? Last I heard, that place wasn’t exactly friendly to you.”

“I’m not sure about much of anything right now,” I admitted honestly. “But I think it’s what’s safest for Willow, long-term. I can’t explain all of it, but I trust the reasoning, even if I hate the idea of actually doing it.”

He was quiet for a moment, processing that, before nodding slowly. “Alright. Marion and I can handle things here. We’ve been helping enough these last few months, we know the rhythm of the place well enough by now.” He paused, something protective entering his weathered features. “You call if anything goes wrong out there. Anything at all. I don’t care what time it is.”

“I will.” I felt something loosen slightly in my chest at his easy, unquestioning support, the same steady kindness that had carried me through the hardest months of this pregnancy without ever once making me feel like a burden for needing it. “Thank you, Pete. For all of it. I don’t think I could have built any of this without you and Marion.”

“You built it yourself,” he said gruffly, clearly uncomfortable with too much direct gratitude. “We just helped carry a few things. Now go on, get your business sorted. We’ll keep the lights on till you’re back.”

I spent the rest of the morning walking him and Marion through everything they’d need-supplier contacts, the register system, Josie’s schedule, the dozen small details that made the diner actually run smoothly day to day. By early afternoon, I’d finished packing what I needed for Willow and myself, the same worn duffel bag I’d fled with eight months ago now filled with entirely different contents-not desperate, hastily grabbed clothes, but careful, deliberate packing for whatever indefinite stretch of time lay ahead at the pack lands.

I stood in the small apartment for a long moment before we left, looking around at everything I’d built here-the mismatched curtains Josie had helped me choose, the small bookshelf lined with photos of Willow’s first months, the well-worn armchair where I’d spent so many exhausted, uncertain nights turning over every impossible decision alone.

I wasn’t losing this. I reminded myself of that firmly, needing the reassurance even as old, familiar dread crept back into my chest at the thought of what waited ahead. This was still mine, still here, waiting for whenever I actually came back. Going back to the pack didn’t erase any of it.

But some deep, anxious part of me still couldn’t fully shake the fear that once I walked back into that compound, I might not find my way back to this fragile, hard-won peace as easily as I hoped.

Damon picked us up a little after noon, and the drive toward pack lands felt entirely different from the last time I’d made this exact trip in reverse-not frantic, not fleeing, but slow and deliberate, every mile bringing me closer to a place I’d spent eight months actively trying to forget.

1/2

Chapte

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“You’re quiet,” Damon said, glancing over from the driver’s seat somewhere around the second hour, Willow sleeping soundly in her car seat behind us.

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