Brother Wolf

Ch 11 Gathering

Michael must have been watching for us to pull up. He stepped out of his house, holding two backpacks, as I turned my bike off. I set my helmet on my seat and walked over to him.

"I'm going," Michael said, shaking from nerves. It was hard to tell if it was from the thought of facing that old alpha or his father standing in the doorway behind him.

Jax had followed my lead, taking his helmet off and handing it to Michael. Without a word, Michael handed the scruffier looking backpack to Jax. I didn't miss the look that passed between the two. Jax gave a tight little smile and a shrug as he swung his pack to his back, sliding it on with an ease that spoke of how much that pack was a part of him.

"And you?" I asked Jax. Knowing he had moved faster than the speed limit when we tracked him, I suspected he had a vehicle of some sort.

Jax gave me a serious look, his brows furrowing for a minute. "Let me grab my stuff. I'll be right back."

Michael looked confused as he watched Jax head to his family's garage. His gaze returned to me as I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Did you work things out with your dad?"

"He's not thrilled," Michael muttered.

"You should not leave with things bad between you and your father. Leave your backpack here, tell your father you will call him regularly to keep him updated. You still have the phone Lone Wolf gave you?"

"Yeah."

"Go," I said, giving him a slight push. I didn't want to be the cause of a rift between father and son.

Michael gave me a look similar to the one Jax had given me at the hospital, but he went. His father only glared at me as Michael went by him. He turned, following his son back into the house. I could hear Michael's mother in the living room. My attention shifted to Jax as he came out of the garage, rolling a small motorbike. I tried not to laugh at the image before me, even as my heart went out to the teen.

The bike had a small plastic crate bungee-corded haphazardly to the back, with what looked like a new sleeping bag tied to the top of it. Jax himself was wearing a few layers of clothes, and his backpack was now overstuffed. I assumed every worldly possession the kid owned was right there.

Michael's reaction when he came out of his house was a little different.

"Damn Jax, What have you been doing? Living in the garage?"

"It's attic, actually," Jax replied sheepishly, looking at his feet in embarrassment. "I told you I wouldn't abandon you," he added intently, looking back up at Michael.

"Up with the Christmas decorations? You stupid ass," Michael said gruffly, suddenly grabbing Jax and pulling him into a hug.

Jax stood there stiffly, awkwardly returning the hug. His body language told me how little he knew how to deal with affection. Street punk with an attitude, Lone Wolf said, yet I saw more. Jax had a loyalty within him, a commitment to the responsibility he gained from biting Michael. The teen was obviously self-sufficient and used to being alone. I wondered how Jax had dealt with being part of a pack.

Michael's father came back out, his purposeful gait outpaced by running little feet. I crouched down as Michael's sister threw herself at me, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, little sister, there is no need to cry."

"I know," she choked out, "Michael will be all right, he'll be with you. But you, be careful with that mean old alpha, okay?"

"Of course, little sister," I reassured her. I couldn't help wondering how many details Sister had told her. The girl's concern touched me.

She turned to Michael, handing him a piece of paper. "I drew this for you. I wasn't sure of the colors, though. I love you, Michael!"