10 - Scared Of One Thing

~Punch’s Point of View~

It was impossible not to leave last night, to go back to the packhouse. Wrestling with what to do over Hazel was the hardest thing I’d ever faced. I prided myself on my confidence, on handling any situation.

Now she was parading around the house, completely ignoring me. I couldn’t lie either, it hurt. I wanted her to look at me again like she had last night. Lusty, hot, sexy. Like I was the best thing she’d ever seen. And the way she effortlessly handled Mick? There wasn’t a doubt in my mind I could have had her virginity last night. 

And probably have Dozer cut my dick off afterwards. Ruining his little girl for her mate, under his roof no less.

“I get to go first, I can't help it,” Dozer says, handing his mate a small box.

Looking at Hazel by the lit up Christmas tree, now dressed in conservative holiday jammies covered in candy canes … it does something to my heart. She certainly isn’t a Fly, nothing even remotely like it. She is absolutely wife and mate material if I’d ever seen it. But make no mistake, she is a Dennison, she has that edge. I’d spent most of last night dreaming of what her wolf would be like. Meaning Mick did and it was all that was in my brain.

*She knows what we are Punch, she doesn’t fear us. She can handle our life. She stands up to us like no one ever has and it’s hot as hell. I want her, we need her,* Mick insists, trying to butt in.

He barely let me sleep, he was too pissed off. He had every right to be.

In the wild you find your mate and claim her. There’s no dating, no back and forth bullshit. Just getting on with life. Making pups.

She’s still so young, impossibly young. She’s got so much potential and life to live. I’d be a selfish fuck to rob her of that and knock her up. I acted at times like I was so much older than her because I felt that way. I wasn’t resentful that she’d had a good and easy life, I wouldn’t wish my childhood on anyone.

“Keys? What did you do,” Mona beams, throwing herself at her mate.

He’d been building her a bike for months, taking painstaking measures to get it all just right. It was awesome to watch how happy he was working on it. Literally all of it was custom and fucking expensive. 

The couple got bundled up and outside in the blink of an eye, leaving me on the floor with Hazel. I quickly reached for her gift, trying to deflect. 

“I saw this in a window when I was in line for a pretzel,” I explain, handing her the box.

She cocks her head to the side and for the first time all morning, after ignoring me all through breakfast … she smiles. She’s got her hair in some damn braided pigtails and I pray I don’t get hard thinking about those handlebars.

“You? You went to the mall,” she replies with a giggle, as if it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. Well, it is really.

“Happens on occasion,” I say, making a face.

I actually kind of liked the mall at times. Growing up we always drove past it and I didn’t fully even know what all it was, or what was in it. But I knew all the cool kids, kids with money … got to go in. Now I had far more money than any kid my age and I earned it. It wasn’t mommy and daddy’s hand outs.

She wastes no time unwrapping the gift and gawking at it.

“A Caboodle? Oh my god Trav. You remember that,” she giggles again.

My stomach practically flips seeing her light up with happiness. A few months after I’d come to live with the Dennisons, she’d left her stupid make-up box on the toilet. We shared a bathroom at the time and it didn’t go well. 

I was so annoyed I dumped all the shit out of it and snapped it in half. She cried all day and I hated myself for acting out like I had. Damn teenage hormones, maybe. Who knows. I had no idea how to act around a sister-like person.

I clear my throat.

“I got the biggest one they had, I figured you probably have more shit now than ever,” I say, shifting to sit cross legged.

“I love it, thanks. That was very thoughtful,” she coos, amused. She reaches for a gift.

“For you,” she states, her cheeks red.

The blast of a motorcycle revving outside makes us both turn our heads. Then we hear Mona laughing loudly and the sounds of the bike driving away. They’ll probably be gone awhile, well at least until they get cold.

I look down at the meticulously wrapped package and take my time opening it, just to torture her. The words she spoke last night are still very much present in my mind. The thought of seeing her with another male makes me absolutely sick. 

I open a box to reveal a photo album. Hazel was always extremely sentimental. But I like it. Cause I never had a family before, not one that cared. Not one that did anything on holidays or birthdays. Took vacations. 

What, was Nina going to take Polaroids of the bruises on her kid? Her male with a black eye because I finally started to stand up for myself?

Flipping through the book is a total replay of the last few years. All our smiles, adventures. From the outside, we kind of look like a normal wholesome family. With lots of ink, and leather vests.

Even if there were a lot of pictures of the pack, their bikes. They were our family too and I was glad she included them. 

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, really,” I admit, looking up to see her staring at me. But her smile is gone, the light in her eyes that I love, is gone. She looks away.

“I meant what I said last night Punch. It’s probably best if you go, I’ll tell them you had things to do,” she whispers, cold as ice. 

I literally feel the chill creep up my spine as she basically dismisses me. She begins cleaning up the ripped paper and then grabs her mug to get more cocoa. Without even looking at me.

Fuck.

*Fix this. Take her, now while we’re alone,* Mick demands, and I nearly feel him trying to push through again. I rub my face and get to my feet. He isn’t wrong, if I did just shove her down and have my way with her now … she’d forgive last night. If I apologize she’ll be putty in my hands.

But no. I can’t.

“Yeah, it’s for the best,” I say, loud enough for her to hear, holding the album in my hands as I run upstairs.

Punch. She called me Punch. Gone was Travis. She was drawing a clear line. I had to let her. Especially since she was doing what I told her to do.

Not what I wanted, but what I told her to do.

I didn’t even bother showering, I just grabbed my shit and ran out the door.

Later that day I run by Mags’ place, all I want is a warm friendly non-judgmental face. So why couldn’t I get that? 

Females, that’s why.

“You reek of Hazel,” she immediately scolds, accusing me as we sit at her small kitchen table. It wasn’t a question, her wolf more than knows something is up. Hardly the first time she’s said something. 

She’d made mac and cheese with meatloaf, my favorite. I had no clue what she put in that lump of meat but it was incredible. 

“It was Christmas we hugged a few times,” I defend.

I hadn’t wanted to shower, and I hated to admit it. I could have at the packhouse. and didn’t. I’d even worked out a bit so now I stink of sweat and her. A combination Mick loves.

“Hugged? My ass,” she quips, handing me a beer.

Fuck I love this woman. If I ever had any doubts about us being related, each day she proves we certainly are blood.

“It isn’t like that with her,” I say, pathetically, grabbing the beer and chugging it back.

She makes a face and then puts three dinner rolls and a slab of butter on my plate. I lick my lips. Her rolls are also legendary.

“What did she get you,” she asks. 

I’d actually brought it, she was in some of the shots and I figured she’d like to see it. Sure enough her eyes lit up and she got mushy as we ate.

“I’ve never regretted coming here for a second. I want you to know that. Gets cold as shit but, my heart is where my family is,” she coos, reaching for my chin and giving it a squeeze.

Mick rolls up on a ball, content with meat in his gut and the familial scent that he craves filling his nose. Mags’ wolf was Helga: they was German and had actually been born on the army base. Her father was an American soldier and her mom a waitress.

They were both gone now, but all of her family was unfortunately. She’d had a son named Geoff about five years younger than Nina; he was killed by a drunk driver when he was only 17. She only spoke of him once though she had pictures all over. It nearly killed her though somehow when Nina wandered off as a junkie she didn’t have the same feelings of loss.

But I knew Nina. There was no changing her mind or making her do shit she didn’t wanna do. For all we know now she’s in a gutter somewhere. It's rarer that shifters have addictions but it certainly happens. If their animal is also into it, breaking the cycle is nearly impossible. Since we can take a lot more physically, overdosing or dying from the addiction takes a shit ton and can drag on for many years.

Makes when they’re pissed off and high a hell of a lot more dangerous too.

The Flying Death touches and is involved in pretty much every kind of seedy illegal activity … except drugs. Except human trafficking. There was certainly a time years ago in their earlier years they were into drugs but Dozer got them out of that when his own men started to use. When their drugs started killing kids.

There were a lot of gangs around that still sold to any and everyone. We looked the other way unless they forced our hand. Lately, we’d been intervening a lot more. We had a boundary line around our territory and that shit did NOT come in.

When Mags and I start to exchange gifts, I get sentimental just like every year. I get pissed for all the years I lost with her, all the years she had to be alone. We could have had each other.

She got me some preppy shit, a couple of expensive shirts and cologne. A watch that had to be a few hundred dollars. I didn’t like her wasting her money on me knowing how little she made but it was pointless to argue. The guys and I all paid for her house and bills so I had to let her do what she wanted with her small salary. She didn’t get the baby moments with me, buying cute clothes and toys and I know that is heavy on her heart. She’d been robbed of it.

“Here’s mine,” I say excitedly, getting her gift out of my bookbag.

“Travis you didn’t have to,” she says, but she snatches it from me anyhow. Her eyes light up and it's what I live for.

I knew Doze and the guys had some things at the packhouse for her, but this is better. I like to think I’m pretty damn good at figuring out gifts.

Though I hadn’t stayed to watch, I’d gotten Doze a new heavy pair of boots. His were worn to hell and looked ridiculous. The head of a pack should have better boots. I got the Flying Death emblem on the foot so if he’s ever stomping someone he’ll be doing it with that. Nice touch, I thought.

For Mona, I’d gotten her a hammock. She’s always talking about getting one but had never done it. I could already see her lounging with a book and a Bloody Mary on a nice summer day.

“Trav! Ohh goddess! Really,” I hear, breaking me out of my daydream of being at the Dennison’s.

She waves around two tickets to go skydiving, something she’s literally always talked about doing. It was definitely always my preference with Mags to get her experiences rather than things. She worked herself to the bone her whole life usually with two or three jobs. I loved that I could help her relax now. She was an extremely humble person and letting anyone help her financially was hard on her but we’re a convincing bunch.

*Look at her smile,* Mick coos.

“The condition is that you don’t take me. Or you could just… do it twice I guess,” I say, smiling.

She volunteered at a food pantry a few times a month and had friends there. But Mags made friends so easily, she’d have no problems taking someone.

She eyes me and shakes her head.

“You’re afraid to go,” she teases, waving the tickets in my face.

This grandmother of mine is so damn into goading me, and she almost always gets me. I shake my head and began to clear the table. She cooks, I clean up. It’s our thing.

“I’m NOT afraid … of fucking anything,” I say, a bit too loudly, then swallow the lump in my throat.

Just scared shitless of a little brunette that’s about 120lbs of piss and vinegar. A female with a perfectly round ass I’d had my hands all over hours ago. Tits you want to suffocate in and a moan that could make you come in seconds. 

Scared … shitless of her.