Chapter 3
THREE
Lucas
I'd been having the worst three days of my life.
Well, technically, I'd been having the worst three days since the best moment of my life, which was seeing my omega for the first time at Pike Place Market, feeling the mate bond snap into place like coming home, and knowing with absolute certainty that I'd found what had been missing from our pack.
The worst part came immediately after, when she'd looked at me with absolute terror and run.
"Lucas, you're spiraling again," Ro said from the passenger seat of the Cozy Caravan. "I can hear you thinking from here."
"I'm not spiraling. I'm processing."
"You've been processing the same thing for seventy-two hours. That's spiraling."
From the back, Dex made a sound that might have been agreement.
He was doing security checks on his tablet, monitoring our route, checking traffic patterns, probably scanning for potential threats even though we were driving to a small Oregon town to meet our omega's family, not infiltrating an enemy compound.
Old habits died hard with Dex.
"I'm just saying," I continued, "what if she changed her mind? What if inviting us was a momentary impulse and now she regrets it? What if we show up and she runs again?"
"Then we'll handle it," Ro said calmly. "Like we discussed."
"Right. The plan. Respectful boundaries, no pressure, prove we can separate professional and personal." I gripped the steering wheel tighter. "But what if the plan isn't enough?"
"Lucas." Dex's voice from the back was firm but gentle. "Breathe. You're going to give yourself an anxiety attack before we even get there."
He wasn't wrong. My alpha was a mess, caught between the euphoria of knowing our omega existed and was real and perfect, and the terror that we'd somehow screw this up and lose her before we'd even had a chance.
The three days since Pike Place Market had been torture.
That first day, I'd had a video call with Michelle, professional, cordial, discussing content strategy like I hadn't just met my fated mate an hour earlier.
She'd looked stressed and beautiful and so carefully controlled that it had physically hurt to maintain the professional distance she clearly needed.
After the call, I'd wanted to immediately drive to wherever she was and fix everything.
Ro had literally stood between me and the door.
"Give her space," he'd said. "She needs to process. We all do."
So we'd processed. We'd talked through scenarios and approaches and boundaries.
We'd researched pack dynamics with professional clients (turns out there wasn't much precedent since most people kept those worlds completely separate).
We'd planned how to court her properly while respecting her very valid concerns about professional ethics.
And we'd sent her gifts.
That had been Dex's idea, actually. "Traditional courting gifts," he'd said. "Show her we've been paying attention. That we see her as more than just an omega or a manager."
So I'd sent her favorite tea and a desk plant named George (because she needed more life in her workspace and I'd needed to make her smile).
Ro had sent organizational tools because he understood her need for control.
Dex had sent practical things because he was Dex and showing care through logistics was basically his love language.
And yesterday, she'd texted.
I'm not running anymore.
Those four words had made my heart literally skip a beat.
We should talk. All of us.
We'd been packed and ready to go within an hour.
"Turn coming up," Ro said, checking the GPS. "Two miles to Cedar Falls."
My hands tightened on the wheel. "Okay. Okay, this is happening."
"You've been saying that every ten minutes for the last hour," Dex pointed out.
"Because it keeps feeling surreal! Our omega invited us to meet her family. To stay at her childhood home. She's not running. She wants to talk. This is…this is huge."
"It is huge," Ro agreed. "Which is why we're going to be calm and respectful and not overwhelm her."
"I'm calm. I'm very calm."
"You've been bouncing in your seat for the last twenty miles."
"That's excited calm. Different thing."
Dex snorted from the back.
The GPS announced our exit, and I guided the Cozy Caravan off the highway onto a smaller road that wound through dense forest. The landscape was beautiful, tall evergreens heavy with recent snow, glimpses of mountains in the distance, the kind of Pacific Northwest scenery that would make amazing content.
My brain was already cataloging potential filming locations, and I had to consciously stop myself from planning out an entire week's worth of streams. Michelle had said slow, boundaries, professional discussion. Not "hey, let's immediately turn your family home into a streaming location."
Although her mom, Janet, had seemed pretty open to it in her texts.
Oh god, I'd been texting with Michelle's mom.
"Do you think it's weird that Janet's been messaging me?" I asked. "Like, she's been very friendly, but is that weird? Am I reading into it?"
"She invited us to stay," Ro said patiently. "That suggests she's on board with the situation."
"Or she's being polite and actually hates us."
"Lucas," Dex said. "Stop freaking out. We sent courting gifts. Michelle accepted them. She invited us to visit. Her mother is welcoming us. These are all positive signs."
"But what if—"
"Welcome to Cedar Falls, Population 3,847, Best Christmas Town in Oregon," Ro read from the sign we were passing. "We're here."
My heart started doing something complicated in my chest.
The town was exactly the kind of place I'd imagined when Michelle mentioned growing up in small-town Oregon.
The main street was lined with historic buildings, all decorated for Christmas.
Lights were strung between old-fashioned lampposts.
A massive Christmas tree dominated the town square.
Local shops had hand-painted holiday displays in their windows.
It was perfect. Cozy and welcoming and exactly the kind of place that would produce someone like Michelle, capable and driven but with deep roots and family.
"It's beautiful," I said softly.
"Good content opportunities," Ro murmured, already eyeing sight lines and lighting.
"Focus," Dex reminded us. "We're here for Michelle, not for work."
"Right. Michelle. Our omega." I took a breath. "Who we're about to meet. At her family home. Where we're staying. For multiple days. With her family. And her."
"You're spiraling again."
"I'm excited spiraling! It's different!"
Ro directed me through town following the GPS, and within minutes we were pulling onto a residential street lined with beautiful old homes. The GPS announced we'd arrived, and I pulled into the driveway of a stunning three-story Victorian farmhouse painted butter yellow with white trim.
It was like something out of a storybook. Wraparound porch, gingerbread trim, Christmas lights outlining every edge. Smoke curled from the chimney. A wreath hung on the door. The whole place radiated warmth and history and home.
"Wow," I breathed.
"She grew up here," Ro said, and I could hear the same awe in his voice that I felt. This was where Michelle had been a child, a teenager, where she'd planned her business and her life.
This was part of her.
"Okay," Dex said from the back. "Game plan. We're respectful, polite, we don't push. We let Michelle set the pace."
"Right. Respectful. Polite. No pushing." I took a deep breath. "I can do that."
"Can you?" Ro asked, but he was smiling slightly.
"I'll try really hard."
We all climbed out of the Cozy Caravan simultaneously. The cold Oregon air hit me immediately, colder than Seattle, crisp and clean and smelling like pine tinged with smoke and, underneath it all, the faintest trace of peppermint.
Michelle.
My alpha surged, wanting to find her, to see her, to—
"Breathe," Dex murmured beside me, his hand on my shoulder. "Steady."
I breathed.
Ro was already surveying the property with his camera eye, taking in the barn, the workshop, the massive Douglas fir in the backyard. But I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand kept flexing like he wanted to reach for something.
He was just as nervous as I was. He was just better at hiding it.
We all looked at the house.
And through the front window, I saw her.
Michelle, standing in what looked like the living room, watching us. Even from here, even through glass, the pull was magnetic. My alpha recognized his omega, our pack's missing piece, and every cell in my body wanted to close the distance.
Our eyes met.
And I watched her entire face transform, fear and hope and want all tangled together.
Then she moved toward the door.
"She's coming outside," I said, my voice slightly strangled.
"Don't tackle her," Dex advised.
"I'm not going to, I mean, I would never—" I took another breath. "Okay, being respectful starts now."
The front door opened.
And there she was.
Michelle stepped out onto the porch, and I forgot how to breathe properly.
She was wearing jeans and a soft green sweater, her dark hair loose around her shoulders instead of in the tight bun I'd seen on our video calls.
She looked nervous and beautiful and real, not a video call, not a fleeting market encounter, but real and here and looking at us with those warm brown eyes.
Her scent hit me, peppermint and winter pine, sweeter now without the sharp edge of panic from Pike Place Market. But I could still sense her nerves, her uncertainty.
Behind her, I could see movement in the house. Her family, probably, all gathering to watch this unfold.
No pressure.
"Hi," I said, and my voice came out softer than intended. "We brought your plant. George missed you."
It was a stupid thing to say. We'd driven four hours to have a serious conversation about professional boundaries and pack dynamics, and the first thing out of my mouth was about a succulent.
But Michelle smiled.