Chapter 24
I shiver slightly as my body slowly comes to consciousness, my eyes scanning the room to see the sunshine falling in through the open window curtains. This morning the bed feels colder than usual, and my hands search for the warmth Tate always brings. Worried, I turn around to face Tate's side of the bed only to notice him gone and—judging by how cold his side of the bed is—he's been gone a while. Frowning, I slowly sit up, my body sore once again from spending the night with my mate. Wrapping the blanket around my naked body, I search for any clue that my mate might have left indicating his whereabouts when I spy the note folded neatly on his pillow.
With a soft smile, my hand reaches out to pick the note up, carefully unfolding the paper to see Tate's neat handwriting on display. The note tells me that Tate decided to go to the pack house to take care of some business and to catch Rex for a check-up. Chris and Jack took Julia for the day, wanting to give me some time to rest and sleep in. Warmth fills my heart with the wonderful family I have. I smile and kiss the note, placing it on the nightstand stationed on my side of the bed before getting up for a quick shower and dressing in a warm baggy knit sweater, fleece-lined leggings, and a grey scarf before heading downstairs. Entering the kitchen, I make a quick light breakfast and take the time to scroll through my phone. I know I have projects due soon for my courses in college, but those can wait. I want to do something fun for myself first.
Taking a look at the calendar, I see that Tate has changed it from September to October, and an idea comes to me. Grinning like the Cheshire cat, I finish my breakfast and make my way to the garage. Texting Tate, I ask where he hides the decorations for Halloween. A quick reply comes, and I giggle first at the picture of him bored out of his mind on a phone call and then with the information that the decorations are where I am heading. Pressing the button on the side by the garage door, I watch the wind blow leaves across the yard. Deciding on my first chore, I get to work grabbing the rake from the wall and slowly rake the leaves into the middle of the yard on the left side of the house. It took a lot longer than I thought it would, but eventually, all the leaves are piled high. Part of me wants to enclose the area around the leaf pile, and so I lean the rake against the sturdy oak tree and make my way into the large garage. Rummaging around, I find some large fences about a meter tall that can easily be hammered into the ground. Deciding on the next step, I make a couple of trips going back and forth until all the temporary fences are laid out in a large enough area.
Quickly I fence in the leaves taking a break once the fencing is done to make a sign with some old wooden boards, paint, and nails that read "Leaf Jumping Pile" that I found in a box by Tate's workbench. I never knew how much of a handyman Tate is until now, and it makes me smile knowing that I have tools readily available for decorating and building. Hammering the sign at the entrance of the fencing, I take a moment to admire my handiwork. The garden, I noted, would need some work done. It's obvious that the plants have been neglected since first arriving here, and I put myself up to the challenge. Not many people like gardening, but I find the rhythmic actions soothing and relaxing. Finding a yard waste bag and some gloves, I set to work on the garden, trimming the bushes and prepping each shrubbery for the winter that is fast approaching.
My phone is blaring music from Spotify as I work outside, enjoying the easy exercise gardening brings. It felt nice moving my body again after having a baby and being cooped up waiting for Tate to wake up from his coma. With a smile, I lean back to rest when my ringtone cuts my music short. Only a few people have my number. Rushing to pick my phone up, I bypass looking at the caller ID and just swipe the answer icon.
"Laina here." I greet, heading onto the rocking chair that Tate and I had bought just after being released from my hospital trip.
"Hey, baby, how is your day going?" I smile at Tate's voice, closing my eyes and relaxing as the chair rocks.
"It's going good. I'm decorating the house for Halloween." I answer. My finger slowly moves to play with my engagement ring while Tate chuckles at my enthusiasm.
"There are more decorations in the basement and some in the shed behind the garage once you finish using the ones I usually keep year-round in the garage. If you need anything else, we can go shopping.” I grin at the idea of shopping for more Halloween decorations. I had a feeling that there will be more than enough here at the house, but we could probably have the scariest house on the block if I find things I like.
"That sounds like fun. We can get some costumes too." I agree, giggling. I love Halloween and the idea of dressing up in costumes and just being carefree for the day. Part of me preferred going to haunted houses instead of trick or treating like most children would do growing up. It just felt more fun seeing what humans consider scary.
"And what would my baby girl want to be?" I blush at his words and think of Julia, him, and myself, an idea forming.
"Why don't we dress up as a King and Queen and dress Julia as a princess?" I suggest, hearing another chuckle.
"Okay, but we are not getting cheap Wal-Mart costumes. I have an idea of what we are going to get." He states. We talk for a few more minutes about dinner plans, how the pack business is going. Unfortunately, his break comes to an end too soon, and with a promise to see each other soon, we hang up. The garden is almost cleaned and ready for winter. Finishing the weeding and trimming, I face two large yard waste bags filled to the brim. If I remembered correctly, tomorrow is garbage day, so doing the gardening today lined up perfectly. Hauling the two bags to the curb, I double-check the front yard before deciding that now will be a good time to start decorating and make my way to bringing each and every decoration box out, starting from the basement and working towards the ones left in the garage.
It took another hour before I had each box in the garage, a total of ten lined up in a row. Rummaging through the contents of each box and organizing the decorations, I found myself with many ideas and categories I could do to make the house the best one on the block. As I take a moment to decide, I notice that three boxes contain graveyard materials, and an idea comes to mind. A cemetery-themed house would be perfect for children coming to the house for trick or treating.
I soon realize that each headstone is made with a Styrofoam material covered in concrete as I move them into place. I couldn't help but take the time to read each one when I noticed they had a theme. Each headstone contained the name of a book character. Some I recognized and others I did not. I found more temporary fences that helped me create a path zigzagging from the entrance of the cemetery to an exit that stops just before the front porch, where I set up an automatic coffin that opens with motion sensors to a zombie jumping out. The final touches were solar power lights that would light up the path for the cemetery in a red and orange glow. Taking a step back, I take a picture of the house and send it to Tate. I love how it came out and know that Halloween this year will be the best one yet.
Satisfied with my productive day, I make my way up the driveway, intending to go inside to start dinner. Suddenly the street turns eerily quiet, and unease fills me. Getting ready to run into the house, I feel strong arms wrap around my midsection as another pair presses a cloth with some form of drug to my face, covering my mouth and nose. I try my best to hold my breath in order not to breathe in the drug that threatened to take me into unconsciousness. My hands claw at the ones binding me, trying my best to fight for freedom and getting a few curses of pain from the two men holding me captive. I needed help and fast.
"Tate help—" I start mind linking my mate, but everything soon turns dark as I take a deep breath of air for my burning, oxygen-deprived lungs. My body goes slack against the attackers, my arms falling to my side and tears forming in my eyes as I get one last look at the place I call home with my blurry vision.
"Good girl." The attacker whispers in a familiar voice, caressing my hair and supporting my limp frame. The last thing I feel is his lips on my temple as my consciousness slips away.