The Lost Pack (Paige) novel Chapter 2

** Poppy’s POV **

For a long moment, none of us move. We just absorb each other, reconnecting in a way that feels almost spiritual rather than just physical. Leo’s arms are still wrapped around me, strong and steady, his chest warm beneath my cheek. Jake’s hand remains in mine as he presses his chest to my back. His mouth resting against my shoulder, almost in a kiss.

I can feel both of their heartbeats. Leo’s is strong and fast beneath my ear. Jake’s softer but just as frantic.

They’re still bracing for me to freak out and change my mind, but I can’t blame them. I literally left them high and dry.

The realisation settles quietly inside me. They don’t trust this moment yet. Not because they doubt me, but because they’ve already lost me once.

My chest tightens.

“I can’t promise forever, not yet, but I’m not going anywhere tonight,” I say softly.

Leo’s arms tighten around me slightly before he catches himself and loosens them again.

Jake exhales slowly behind me. “Good,” he murmurs. “That’s enough.”

The words are quiet, but the relief behind them is impossible to miss.

Leo finally pulls back enough to look down at me. His hands slide to my shoulders, not pushing me away, just giving us space to breathe.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

The question catches me off guard.

“What?” I blink.

“Jake’s become quite domesticated since you left,” Leo says, glancing at Jake over my shoulder with a teasing glint in his eye, “he made dinner.”

Jake groans quietly behind me. “Don’t say it like that,” he huffs.

I turn slightly to look at him.

“You cooked?”

A faint flush creeps up his neck.

“Maybe.”

Leo snorts.

“He’s been cooking all day.”

“I was testing recipes,” Jake protests.

“For twelve hours?”

Jake glares at him.

“I didn’t know what she’d want!”

The tension in the room breaks just slightly, like a knot loosening. A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, and Jake freezes. Then his shoulders drop in relief.

“I missed that,” he says quietly.

The honesty in his voice makes my throat tighten. I step away from Leo slowly, not because I want distance but because I need to move before my emotions overwhelm me.

I don’t miss the shift in dynamics between Jake and Leo. Before I left, when they’d just been thrust into a mate group they’d never prepared for, things had been tense and awkward. The pair couldn’t have been more different.

Jake is soft where Leo is hard; he’s thoughtful, where Leo is instinctive. Jake thinks things through three times before acting, whilst Leo trusts his gut and moves first, asking questions later. Even the way they carry themselves is different. Jake’s movements are careful, as if he’s always considering the impact he might have on the people around him. Leo moves like the world will shift around him instead.

At first, that difference had created friction between them. Not hostility exactly, but a constant underlying tension. They were both strong in their own ways, both used to standing on their own feet, and suddenly they were being asked to share something as complicated as a mate.

I remember the way their conversations used to stall, the moments where neither of them quite knew what to say to the other. Jake trying to keep the peace, Leo trying to pretend the situation didn’t bother him as much as it clearly did. They’d been polite, respectful even, but it had always felt like they were circling each other, unsure how to find solid ground.

Now, though, something has changed. It’s subtle, but impossible to miss. Jake doesn’t hesitate to speak anymore, and Leo doesn’t bristle at it. Leo moves through the cabin like he belongs here, as if this life they’ve built together is something solid. And Jake doesn’t seem nervous around him anymore. There’s an ease between them that hadn’t been there before. They’ve found their rhythm.

Leo makes the space feel steady and safe, whilst Jake fills the gaps with quiet warmth. Where one pulls back, the other steps forward. Where one hesitates, the other anchors.

It isn’t perfect, but it’s real. They’ve become a team, and the realisation hits me harder than I expect. They didn’t wait for me to come back before figuring this out. They built this anyway, even when they didn’t know if I’d ever walk through that door again.

A slow, uncomfortable warmth spreads through my chest, equal parts gratitude and guilt. While I was trying to figure out what it meant to belong to something like this, they didn’t pull apart. They pulled closer. They chose each other… and somehow still left a place for me here.

They built more than just a home; they built a life.

I move toward the couch, trailing my fingers along the back.

“You really did all this for me?” I ask.

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