Chapter 45 Logan
Logan
I don’t know how to fucking shop for gifts.
We’re out as a pack without Rose—she’s off shopping with her friends—and apparently, today’s mission is to find her Christmas presents. The problem? I don’t have the faintest fucking idea what to buy.
Thankfully, I’m not the only idiot wandering this mall like a lost tourist. We’ve been circling for almost an hour, and not one of us has picked up a damn thing.
“What about jewelry?” I suggest, already knowing it’s weak.
Kai rolls his eyes. “Have you ever seen Rosie wear jewelry?”
I actually stop and think about it. Damn. He’s right. I’ve never noticed before, probably because she doesn’t need it. Rose has that kind of beauty that doesn’t need help—it’s all soft eyes and messy curls and the way she laughs with her whole body.
“We could get her new stuff for the kitchen,” Wyatt offers.
I snort. “That’s a Wyatt gift, not a Rose gift.”
“Alright, genius,” he fires back, smirking. “What’s a Logan gift?”
“Apparently not jewelry,” I mutter, which earns me a few chuckles.
“Kai, you’ve known her the longest,” Evander says, ever the peacemaker. “What do you think?”
Kai sighs. “I haven’t been in her life for years—since I left to gain a career and a pack, basically. I’ve got about as much insight as you do.”
We round the corner, and the smell of kung pao chicken, Big Macs, and pizza hits us all at once.
“Food court,” Wyatt declares. “We’ll eat on it.”
Honestly? No arguments here. I’m starving.
We all grab our choices and meet at a table in the middle.
“I think we’re going about this all wrong,” Harlan says as he slides a bowl of noodles onto my tray.
He knows I love them. He always has. It’s such a small thing, but it hits like a punch to the gut. The way his hand lingers on the edge of my tray—close, deliberate—feels like a claim. My pulse jumps.
“Thanks,” I mutter, voice rougher than I mean it to be.
He smirks, the corner of his mouth tugging up like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. For Evander, he drops two fortune cookies onto his tray without even asking. Evander beams at him like he’s been handed treasure.
And across the table, Kai and Wyatt are practically wrapped around each other, laughing about something stupid.
Wyatt’s arm drapes along the back of Kai’s chair, fingers tracing the nape of his neck.
Kai blushes and leans in closer, and the sight shouldn’t be hot—but fuck, it is.
Watching them figure each other out, all soft touches and quiet smiles, makes something inside me ache.
I look back at Harlan. His gaze catches mine over the rim of his drink—steady, burning. That same spark that used to make me come undone years ago flickers between us now, stronger than ever. I hold it, daring him to look away. He doesn’t.
He never does.
He leans forward, elbows on the table, voice low enough that only I can hear. “You look like you’re thinking too hard, sweetheart.”
The word hits like a hand on the back of my neck. My mouth twitches, half a smile, half a challenge. “You always did like making me think.”
His grin sharpens, and I swear I can feel it slide down my spine.
Across the table, Kai catches it instantly and groans. “God, can you two not eye-fuck in public for five minutes?”
Wyatt snorts into his drink. Evander hides a grin against his shoulder.
Harlan doesn’t even look away from me. “No promises.”
And the worst part? I believe him.
I sigh. “Okay, back to the presents. She deserves way more than some shit we’d grab at a white elephant exchange,” I say before I can stop myself. The words come out harsher than I meant, but the frustration’s been building all morning. “She’s our fucking mate, not just some random omega.”
Evander reaches across the table and takes my hand, like he can feel the tension bleeding off me. One look from him, and some of that sharpness softens. He’s good at that.
“What the hell should we get her, though?” Wyatt says what we’re all thinking.
“Something bigger,” Harlan says, scent marking my cheek before pulling away. “Something from all of us. Not just a bunch of trinkets.”
Kai suddenly sits up straight, eyes wide. “She told us what she wanted.”
We all look at him.
“She did,” he insists. “Weeks ago. Back when we were still faking.”
I blink, confused for half a second. Then it hits me.
And when it does, a slow grin spreads across my face.
“Oh,” I say. “Oh, that’s fucking perfect.”