Chapter 2 Logan
Logan
Lakeside Point is small—two-stoplight small. Quaint, sure, but coming from Detroit, it feels like stepping into a snow globe someone forgot to shake. Everything’s too still. Too quiet.
My brother’s place, even more so. He’s a hotelier by trade. His pack owns and designs a line of boutique hotels across the country, the kind frequented by the rich and bored. So finding him living in a farmhouse at the edge of a bee farm is… disorienting.
Half-brother, I remind myself. Half—a word that’s done a damn good job keeping us apart.
I’m trying to change that now, though the effort already feels brittle.
His omega wife greets me on the porch, all warmth and bite.
Sweet but spicy, with blonde hair and sharp blue eyes that see far too much.
She’s snapped at me twice already, but she smiles when she does it.
My brother, Cole, sits in a rocking chair like the old man he insists he’s not.
He looks nothing like me. Ten years older, streaks of gray threading through his dark hair and beard, crow’s feet from sun and laughter. He takes after our mother. I, unfortunately, take after my father with pale skin, slicked-back, blond hair, and blue eyes sharp enough to cut.
I sit in the rocking chair beside him. The old wood creaks under my weight.
“How’re you doing, Logan?” Cole’s voice carries that easy dominance he doesn’t even have to think about. It rolls over the porch, grounding everything in his orbit.
“Fine,” I lie, smooth and practiced.
“Where’s your pack?” he asks, glancing around like he expects them to materialize from the trees.
“At the hotel. I’m meeting them at the site after this.” We’re staying at Cole’s newest property where he offered us a spot for a new restaurant, just beyond the farm, perched on the edge of the lake.
His eyes narrow just slightly. “We heard about the legal issues.”
My grip tightens on the armrest. “We’re handling it,” I grit out, keeping my tone even. I breathe through my teeth, the way I’ve practiced, but it doesn’t stop the heat crawling up my neck.
He studies me for a long moment, the way only an older brother can. Quiet, assessing, infuriating. Then he sighs. “If you’re looking to fix your problem here, just know it’s a small town. My omega knows every eligible omega in Lakeside Point, which aren't many. You won’t get anything past her.”
I grit my teeth and count to ten. It doesn’t help. He sees it anyway—damn him.
“I’m just here for the restaurant,” I say, sharp enough to cut the air between us.
Another beat. He nods, stands, and heads inside. I brace myself with another slow ten count before following him. The porch creaks behind me as I go, rocking chairs swaying like ghosts of conversations I’ll never get right.