Page 31 of Nico

A snort came from the sofa, and we both turned toward Logan. He'd lowered his arm from his face. There was a tired grin on his lips.

“I'm not sure how I feel about you two getting along because of my stalker.”

Isaac turned toward the mini fridge, pulled out a sports drink, and tossed it to Logan. It landed against Logan's chest with enough force to make him grunt.

“Drink.”

Logan glared at him for a moment before twisting off the cap. “Thank you.”

Despite the complaint, his tone was genuinely appreciative. He drained the entire bottle in one go before lying back down.

Isaac sat beside him. “Hungry?”

“Not really.”

“You've eaten?”

Logan paused. “Define eaten.”

Isaac sighed. I had to suppress a smile. It was obvious this wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation.

They'd both been on edge since we'd found the first gift. Logan tried to act as though everything was fine, but I'd noticed the way his eyes kept drifting toward doors and windows whenever we were somewhere unfamiliar.

Isaac was worse. He rarely seemed to relax completely anymore, always watching, always alert, as though he were waiting for something to happen.

I wanted to do something about that, give them something else to think about for a while.

“Tomorrow's your day off, right?” I asked.

Logan opened one eye. “From filming, yes. I have a production meeting in the morning and some promotional stuff in the afternoon. Then I'm free.”

“Well, after all that, do you two want to come to the pack barbecue tomorrow night?”

Isaac looked at me. “The pack barbecue?”

“Yeah. Just some good food, drinks, people hanging out.” I glanced between the two of them. “I figured you could both use a chance to relax.”

Tony was sitting at our usual table, right at the edge of the clearing where the trees provided some distance from the main crowd.

I walked over and dropped my tote bag onto the table. It landed with a hollow thump, the empty plastic containers inside clattering against one another.

Tony looked at the bag. “That sounds like more than usual.”

I gave him a flat look. “I barely have time to cook.”

“You never cook.”

“Fine. I barely have time to order food.”

I muttered something about how reheating technically counted as cooking, but Tony either didn't hear me or decided not to acknowledge it.

The problem was that by the time I got home, everything I liked was already closed. Normally, I’d ask Tony to help me out, but he'd been constantly assigned to missions and projects outside the packlands lately, which meant I was on my own.

Tony seemed to consider that for a moment before pointing at my tote bag. “We have to be more careful this time.”

“Why?”

“Griffin noticed we were running low halfway through the last barbecue.”