Chapter 9
9
EMMA
“ I ’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re completely booked through the next three weeks.”
“Nothing?” I press my phone harder against my ear, as if that might somehow change the answer.
“Not even a janitor’s closet with a cot?” I joke.
The woman on the other end of the line clears her throat.
“We have a waiting list I could add you to, but I should warn you there are already twenty-seven names ahead of yours.”
“Right. Of course, there are.” I blow a strand of hair from my face, squinting against the morning sun.
“Thanks, anyway.”
I hang up and add Pine Valley Inn to my mental graveyard of lodging options.
That makes six motels, three B&Bs, and two hotels that have slammed their metaphorical doors in my face.
Each conversation follows the same depressing script— complete disbelief that I’d dare to seek accommodation without a reservation during Whispering Grove’s peak season.
An involuntary shudder ripples through me as fragments of last night’s dream claws its way into my thoughts.
I was back in the rental cabin, but the windows had disappeared, replaced by solid walls of crackling timber.
The smoke had a voice, whispering, taunting, as it curled around my throat.
I’d woken gasping, sheets damp with sweat, convinced for five terrifying seconds that I could smell burning wood.
Even now, in broad daylight, the memory makes my pulse skip erratically.
I shake my head, forcing the images back into whatever dark corner of my mind spawned them.
I can’t afford to fall apart now.
Compartmentalize. That’s what I’m good at.
File the trauma away like an overdue bill—something to deal with later or, preferably, never.
I peer at my watch, 8:37 a.m. Atlas should be here in about twenty minutes to pick me up, as he had a morning call.
My backpack sits loyally at my feet, stuffed with my laptop and the few pitiful items I managed to rescue from the cabin blaze.
The morning breeze carries the scent of coffee from somewhere nearby, taunting me with its promises of caffeine and normalcy.
My phone buzzes against my palm.
Jess’s face, tongue out, eyes crossed from our college graduation, fills the screen.
I smile despite myself and answer.
“Please tell me you have a spare bedroom I can teleport into,” I say by way of greeting .
“Hello to you, too, sunshine.” Jess laughs.
“That bad, huh?”
“I’ve called almost every establishment with a roof in this town. Unless I want to pitch a tent in someone’s backyard or sleep in a rental car, which, by the way, would also require a miracle to obtain, I’m officially homeless.”
“What about Mr. Hot Firefighter? The one from the photo you sent?”
I feel heat rush to my cheeks that has nothing to do with the morning sun.
“Atlas.”
“Ooh, yes. Mm-hmm. And his biceps just happened to be in that selfie, and I can’t unsee them.”
“Anyway, that’s actually why I called. I, um, might be staying with him and the two guys in his pack. Temporarily.”
The silence on the other end lasts precisely three seconds before Jess’s screech nearly ruptures my eardrum.
“EMMA COLLINS! You’ve been in Whispering Grove for LESS THAN A WEEK!”
“It’s not like that,” I hiss, feeling my face flame hotter.
“He offered his guest room. And they have this cabin in the woods?—”
“Three Alphas, hey!”
“They’re firefighters,” I insist. “They rescued me. Atlas drove me to the hospital. They’re good guys.”
“Okay, okay.” Jess’s voice softens.
“Text me their full names and address. And maybe set up one of those ‘if I don’t check in, call the police’ apps. ”
“You’ve been watching too many true crime documentaries.”
“And you’re an Omega moving in with three strange Alphas in the middle of nowhere. One of us is being sensible, and it’s not you.”
I sigh, knowing she’s not entirely wrong.
“I’ll send you their details, but honestly, Jess, they’ve been nothing but respectful.”
“Mmm, that doesn’t make you sound smitten at all.”
“I’m not?—”
“Em, Boo.” Her interruption is gentle.
“I know you’re not over Chad yet, but?—”
“I am so over Chad,” I interject, perhaps too forcefully.
“Really?”
I kick at a pebble near my foot, watching it skitter across the pavement.
“Have you told him about the fire?”
“God, no. And he hasn’t bothered to ask how I am.” The familiar ache throbs dully in my chest. Not for Chad himself, but for what I thought we had.
For being a fool and believing he would finally mark me as his with his bite.
To make me feel like I truly belong to him…
“Well, he betrayed you, then dumped you. Fuck him, but just be careful.”
I let out a laugh that’s more air than sound.
“Thanks for the permission.”
“Look, all I’m saying is I’m all for not pushing away potential good things because one Alpha-hole hurt you. Just be careful not to rush into another relationship too quickly.”
A pickup truck turns onto the street, and my heart does an embarrassing little flip when I recognize Atlas behind the wheel.
“Speaking of which, my ride’s here. I should go.”
“Send me those details! And call me after you’ve seen their place. I want to know if it’s a palace or a murder shack.”
“Will do. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I hang up just as my phone starts vibrating again.
Chad’s name flashes on the screen, accompanied by a photo I now regret not deleting—his arm slung possessively around my shoulders at last year’s Christmas party.
My thumb hovers over the decline button when a text message preview appears…
Your stuff’s packed in garbage bags.
When are you coming back to get it?
Also, pretty sure you took my gym duffel by mistake.
Need it back.
A startled laugh escapes me.
Of course, he’s worried about his precious bag while my entire life is in shambles.
I type back quickly…
Nice to see you got over me so quickly, you don’t even care that I nearly died in a cabin fire the other night.
.. asshole!
I hit send with vicious satisfaction, then immediately regret engaging at all.
I should be better than this.
Shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he can still affect me.
His response comes quickly.
Are you ok?
For a split second, I feel a twinge of validation when the phone dings with his next message.
My bag ok? Call me!
Fire races through my veins, and I type back so forcefully, I’m surprised my screen doesn’t crack.
Fuck you!
I mute the conversation and shove my phone into my pocket as Atlas’s truck pulls up to the curb.
The driver’s side window rolls down, revealing Atlas’s strong profile.
The morning light catches on his dark hair.
His five o’clock shadow has progressed to what I’d call seven-thirty stubble, and somehow, it makes him look even more ruggedly appealing.
“Morning,” he calls, his deep voice sending an unwelcome shiver down my spine.
“Ready to see your temporary home?”
I hoist my backpack and approach the truck, trying to appear more confident than I feel.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
He leans across to push open the passenger door, and I climb in, immediately enveloped by the scent of his masculine scent, which makes me sit up and take notice.
“Everything okay?” Atlas asks as I buckle my seatbelt.
“You looked like you were having quite the conversation with your phone back there. ”
Heat creeps up my neck.
“You saw that?”
“Hard to miss someone trying to shove their fingers through the phone angrily.” His lips quirk up at the corners.
“Ex,” I admit, then immediately regret it when his expression shifts to something unreadable.
“He’s demanding the return of his bag, the one that’s now a pile of designer ash in the burned-down cabin.”
“He doesn’t know about the fire?” Atlas pulls away from the curb, his large hands confident on the steering wheel.
We turn onto the main street, which is already full of cars and people.
“He does now.” I stare out the window at the bustling town.
“Still thinking about him? The ex who had you stabbing your phone with murderous thumbs moments earlier,” Atlas asks.
I tear my gaze from the window and the decorations of the Summer Festival that’s overtaken Whispering Grove.
“I wasn’t—” I stop myself.
No point denying it.
“He has a way of burrowing under my skin, even from hundreds of miles away.”
Atlas’s hands flex on the steering wheel, the movement subtle but impossible to miss.
“Some men think the world owes them something. That biology makes them entitled to whatever they want.” He glances over.
“I’ll be the first to admit our kind can be absolute pricks.”
“Understatement of the century,” I mutter.
“If you ever need someone to put him in his place...” The sentence hangs in the air, unfinished but crystal clear.
I study his profile, the strong line of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.
“Are you offering to be my personal bodyguard, Fire Chief?”
A half-smile plays at his lips, softening the edge of whatever emotion had momentarily darkened his features.
“Maybe I just don’t like the idea of someone making you look at your phone like it personally betrayed you.”
“That’s dangerously close to protective Alpha behavior,” I tease, though something warm flutters in my chest.
“Guilty as charged.” He slows as we pass through the center of town, where a group of volunteers is hoisting an enormous banner across Main Street.
“Though I suspect you’re perfectly capable of handling yourself.”
“You’d be right. I once shattered a guy’s windshield with a baseball bat after he spread rumors about me.” I pause.
“I’ve matured since then.”
His laugh is unexpectedly deep and genuine.
“Remind me to keep all sporting equipment away from you when I’m on your bad side.”
“Bold of you to assume I need equipment to cause damage,” I counter.
“Hey, but seriously,” he says, voice gentler.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” I brush it off automatically, then reconsider.
“ Actually, I’m not sure. Not really. I feel like I’m drowning in a way, and last night in my dream, I kept hearing this cracking sound… you know, right before the roof started to collapse when the cabin was on fire? It’s like it’s stuck in my head on repeat.”
He nods, understanding without pity.
“That’s normal. The brain doesn’t just let go of trauma, especially the sensory impressions.”
“Is that your professional firefighter opinion?”
“That, and personal experience.” He falls silent for a moment, negotiating a tricky turn as we begin to climb into the foothills, leaving the town behind.
“After my first big fire, I couldn’t wash the smell out of my nose for weeks. Thought I was going crazy.”
I study his face, the way the morning light carves shadows beneath his cheekbones.
God, this man is crazy handsome, but I school myself.
“How did you make it stop?”
“I didn’t, exactly.” His voice drops lower, more intimate somehow.
“You just make room for it. Acknowledge it. Eventually, it becomes a part of you instead of something consuming you.”
Silence falls between us as I digest his words.
The truck climbs higher into the mountains, and I watch as the town recedes in the side mirror, the buildings growing smaller until they’re just a colorful speck in the valley below.
“Your town really goes all out for this festival,” I comment, thinking of the decorations and the buzz of excited energy that seemed to permeate the streets.
“The taxi driver wouldn’t stop talking about it when he brought me to the cabin.”
Atlas smiles.
“It’s the one time of year we’re actually on the map. Tourism keeps half the businesses afloat.”
“We don’t have anything like that back in Moonshell Bay. Small town but none of the charm.”
“Heard it’s a beautiful town.”
“Mostly,” I admit.
“After my parents died, so much still reminds me of them. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but it’s also heartbreaking.” The words escape before I can catch them, and I mentally curse my runaway mouth.
“How long ago?”
“I was sixteen, so about eight years ago.” I twist my grandmother’s wave pendant between my fingers.
“Boating accident.”
He nods, his eyes briefly meeting mine before returning to the winding road.
“That’s young to lose both parents.”
I stare out at the passing trees, their shadows dappling the sunlit road.
“So, what’s your backstory?” I ask, wanting the conversation off me.
“How does someone so young end up as fire chief of a town like Whispering Grove?” Claire had told me a bit about his past, but after realizing last night she might have been gaslighting me about the men, I’m not sure how much I can believe .
A shadow crosses his face.
“I’m not that young. I’m thirty-two. And I got the position the hard way.”
“Meaning?” But I can’t stop thinking about his age.
Eight years older than me.
Chad had only been three years older, and even then, I’d thought that was something.
This… this is different.
I can see it in the way Atlas holds himself, in the way he looks at me, as though he already knows how this ends.
And maybe that’s exactly why I can’t look away.
“That my mentor, the previous chief, died in a fire. I was next in line.”
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” I say, suddenly regretting my question.
“Tom was more father than mentor.” His jaw tightens, the words rough like they cost him to say.
His knuckles go white on the steering wheel.
“He took me in when I was about twelve. Caught me stealing food from the fire station.”
I blink, surprised by the revelation.
“What happened?”
“Instead of calling the cops, he gave me a job. Then a room when he found out I was living on the streets.” Atlas’s voice remains steady.
“Taught me everything I know about firefighting. About being a man worth something.”
The vulnerability in his admission catches me off guard.
It’s so at odds with the confident, commanding Alpha I’ve seen these past few days.
Something inside me softens, dangerous as that feels .
“He sounds incredible,” I say softly.
“He was.” The simple declaration holds volumes.
“He’d like you, I think.”
“Yeah, why’s that?”
Atlas’s mouth quirks up at one corner.
“He always said people who survived something hard had the best stories to tell.”
The sentiment steals my breath for a moment.
“And do I have good stories?”
His eyes meet mine.
“I think you’ve barely started telling them.”
The weight of his gaze makes my skin prickle.
I force myself to glance away, out the window at the thickening forest. Away from the pull I feel toward him, a sensation that terrifies me.
We crest a hill, and suddenly, the road opens onto a clearing.
“How much farther?” I ask, eager to see his place.
“We’re almost there,” Atlas says but makes no move to accelerate.
Instead, he shifts in his seat to face me more directly.
“Emma…”
Something in his tone makes my pulse quicken.
“Yes?”
“I need you to know something before we get there.” His eyes hold mine, intense and unreadable.
“The past couple of days, since you entered our lives... it’s been...” He trails off, seemingly struggling with words.
“Been what?” I prompt, my voice embarrassingly breathless .
“Distracting,” he finally says.
“In ways I wasn’t prepared for.”
The admission hangs between us.
My throat goes dry.
“Atlas—”
“You don’t need to say anything,” he cuts in gently.
“I know you’ve been through hell recently. The ex, the cabin fire, being stranded here. The last thing you need is another Alpha complicating things.”
“Is that what you’d be?” The words escape before I can trap them behind my teeth.
His gaze darkens, pupils expanding until the blue is just a thin ring around bottomless black.
“I’d be a fucking disaster for you right now, Emma. And you know it.”
The raw honesty of his statement hits me with almost physical force.
I should be grateful for his restraint.
Should be relieved he’s acknowledging the terrible timing, the impossibility of whatever this electricity between us might ignite.
Instead, I feel robbed of something I hadn’t even admitted I wanted.
“Right,” I manage, looking away.
“Of course.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t—” He stops and exhales slowly.
“Look, I just want you to feel safe with us. No pressure. No expectations.”
I force a smile I don’t feel.
“Message received, Chief. You’re offering sanctuary, not seduction. Exactly what I was asking for, right?”
A muscle in his jaw flexes.
“Emma.”
I gesture toward the road ahead.
“Shall we? I’m dying to see your home.”
For a moment, I think he might press further, might crack open this tension between us and examine what lies beneath.
Instead, he puts the truck back in gear and continues up the winding path.
“You won’t be disappointed,” he states, and I’m not sure if he’s talking about the tower or something else entirely.
Either way, as we approach what will be my temporary home, I have the sinking feeling that disappointment is the least of my worries.
The truck rounds a bend, and the trees part to reveal our destination.
I forget whatever clever retort I was forming as I stare up, mouth slightly agape.
“That’s... you live there?”
The building before us rises like something from a fantasy novel.
A large rustic cabin forms the base, all golden wood and stone, with large windows reflecting the morning light.
But what makes it truly spectacular is the fire watchtower that extends from its center, reaching skyward on sturdy supports.
The tower is crowned with a glass-enclosed observation room, surrounded by a wraparound deck that offers what must be breathtaking 360-degree views of the surrounding wilderness.
“Home sweet home,” Atlas states, but there’s a hint of pride in his voice as he watches my reaction.
“It’s incredible,” I breathe as he parks beside a sleek black SUV that must belong to one of his packmates.
“How did you even?—”
“Lots of work,” he says, cutting the engine.
“We’ve been building it ourselves over the last few years. The tower was decommissioned decades ago, but the structure was still sound.”
I climb out of the truck, tilting my head back to take in the full height of the tower.
A hawk circles lazily above, as if completing the picturesque scene.
“The stairs look much more daunting from down here,” I mutter, eyeing the wooden staircase that spirals around the exterior of the tower.
“They’re worth the climb,” Atlas assures me, retrieving my backpack from the truck before I can protest. “The view from up top will make you forget all about your burning cabin.”
“That’s a pretty high bar,” I quip.
“I was rather attached to that smoke inhalation.”
He chuckles, gesturing for me to follow him.
“Let’s get you settled. Levi should be inside, but River got called to assist with a hiker rescue this morning.”
The front door opens onto a space that simultaneously makes me want to gasp and curl up with a good book.
The interior is exactly what you’d expect from three Alphas with excellent taste or at least one with excellent taste who bullied the others into submission.
Wide-plank hardwood floors stretch throughout an open floor plan, with a massive stone fireplace in a living area furnished with deep leather couches that look sinfully comfortable .
The kitchen along the far wall is rustic and modern, with butcher block countertops, a farmhouse sink, and high-end appliances.
Windows everywhere frame the forest views, like living artwork.
I’m suddenly envious of not having such a gorgeous home.
“This is...” I struggle to find words adequate for the space.
“Acceptable?” Atlas suggests with a smile.
“It’s like someone took the coziest cabin Pinterest board and made it real,” I admit, wandering into the living room.
“Please tell me you didn’t design this yourself, or I’ll have to hate you on principle.”
“Levi’s the design genius. River and I just provide the muscle and occasional veto power.”
I run my fingers along the back of a butter-soft leather couch.
“Well, it’s obscenely perfect.”
“Atlas?” Levi calls from somewhere deeper in the house.
“Is that you?”
“Yeah,” Atlas calls back.
“Got Emma with me.”
A moment later, Levi appears from a hallway, and I have to consciously remember to keep my mouth closed.
If Atlas is rugged, masculine beauty, Levi is his refined counterpart.
Tall and muscular, with straight black hair falling across his forehead and cheekbones that could cut glass.
His eyes, startlingly bright against his olive complexion, assess me with quiet curiosity.
“Emma,” he says with a nod, his voice softer than I expected.
“How are you feeling this morning?”
“Less smoky, but currently in awe of this place,” I reply, then mentally kick myself.
Less smoky ? Real witty, Emma.
But Levi’s mouth curves slightly.
“That’s generally the preferred state of being around here.”
Atlas sets my backpack on the couch.
“I was going to show Emma around before I head out to meet River. Is the guest room ready?”
“Almost,” Levi says.
“Just putting fresh sheets on the bed.”
“I can help,” I offer quickly, not wanting to be more of a burden than I already am.
Levi shakes his head.
“No need. Why don’t you show her the tower first? I’ll finish up.”
Atlas’s face brightens.
“Good idea.” He turns to me.
“You up for a climb?”
“Are there coffee and views at the top of this climb?” I ask.
“Views, definitely. Coffee, we can arrange.”
“Then lead on, Chief.”
Atlas guides me back outside to the base of the wooden stairs that spiral around the exterior of the tower.
“Watch your step,” he warns as we begin to climb.
“The wood can be slick in the morning dew.”
Naturally, my foot slips on the very next step, sending me lurching sideways with a startled yelp.
Atlas’s hand shoots out, catching my elbow and steadying me with seemingly effortless strength.
“Sorry,” I mutter, heat rushing to my face.
“I come with a warning label: Coordination not included.”
His hand lingers a beat longer than it should, warmth rushing up my arm, and suddenly, all I can think about is his touch, right there between us.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
We continue our ascent, and thankfully, it’s not one of those super lofty towers.
But I’m painfully aware of how close Atlas stays behind me, as if expecting me to tumble backward at any moment.
Given my track record, it’s not an unreasonable concern.
The stairs terminate at a wooden deck that wraps entirely around the glass-enclosed tower room.
I step onto it and immediately freeze, momentarily dizzy with the sudden expanse of view.
Miles of forest stretch below us in every direction, a rippling sea of green broken only by the occasional rocky outcrop or clearing.
To the east, Whispering Grove nestles in the valley, looking like a model village from this height.
Beyond that, mountain ranges rise in hazy layers against the horizon.
“Oh,” I breathe, the syllable inadequate for the panorama before me.
“Worth the climb?” Atlas asks softly, coming to stand beside me.
Too close, leaving me breathless.
“Worth burning down a cabin for,” I admit, then glance at him.
“Not that I did that.”
“Good to know.” His smile is warm, his eyes reflecting the endless sky.
“I was starting to wonder if you were some sort of chaos agent sent to keep firefighters employed.”
“If I were, I’d be doing a terrible job. One cabin fire in over twenty-four hours? Amateur hour.”
He laughs, and the sound seems to expand in the open air around us.
“Come inside. The view’s just as good indoors.”
The interior of the tower is a single square room with windows on all sides, making it feel like we’re suspended in the sky.
A central fireplace with a copper hood provides the only interruption to the glass, with comfortable seating arranged to take advantage of every possible view.
A telescope stands in one corner, and built-in bookshelves occupy the space below the windows.
“This is where I’d live if I were here,” I say, turning slowly to take it all in.
“I’d never leave.”
“We spend a lot of evenings up here,” Atlas admits.
“Especially during storms or meteor showers.”
I stroll over to the eastern windows, resting my fingertips against the cool glass.
“I can’t imagine how beautiful it must be during a thunderstorm.”
“Like being inside the storm itself,” he says, coming to stand beside me.
“The lightning illuminates the entire valley. You can watch it roll in from miles away.”
“And during winter?”
“Even better. The silence after a snowfall is like nothing else.”
I turn to find him watching me rather than the view, his expression unreadable.
We’re standing close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body and smell the now-familiar scent of woodsmoke, maple, and toasted sugar that clings to him.
Something electric crackles in the space between us.
“It’s wonderful to have you here,” he says quietly.
“I hope you’ll feel at home while you stay.”
“It would be hard not to,” I reply, surprised by the huskiness in my voice.
“This place is magical.”
His gaze drops briefly to my lips, and for one heart-stopping moment, I think he might lean in.
Instead, he takes a small step back, breaking whatever spell had momentarily enveloped us.
“I can see myself setting up here and writing,” I explain quickly, moving toward one of the comfortable chairs.
“Best inspiration ever.”
“You’re welcome to use this space whenever you want,” he offers.
“No one will disturb you up here.”
The silence that follows hits like a lightning strike, intense, electric, and awkward in a way our earlier banter wasn’t.
It crackles between us, heavy with things neither of us is saying.
I drag in a breath, reminding myself again that as attractive as Atlas is, and God, he’s devastating in that quietly dangerous way that gets under your skin, getting involved with anyone right now would be catastrophically stupid.
My heart’s already broken.
I don’t need to hand the shattered pieces to someone new, least of all someone who pretty much admitted we shouldn’t give in to our temptation.
His phone chirps, breaking the moment.
He checks it and sighs .
“Duty calls,” he murmurs, returning the phone to his pocket.
“River needs backup with the hiker rescue.”
“Go save lives,” I tell him with a smile I hope looks more confident than it feels.
“I’ll be fine. I mean... how could I not be? I’m in this, you know, sky palace. Pretty sure the couch alone is fancier than my entire apartment.” I shut my mouth before I make it worse, heat creeping up my neck.
“Levi will show you to your room and help you get settled.” He hesitates, as if wanting to say more, then simply adds, “Make yourself at home, Emma. Really.”
I watch him descend the stairs, taking them two at a time so easily, it makes my earlier stumble even more embarrassing in retrospect.
Only when he disappears from view do I let out a long exhale.
What am I doing here?
In this beautiful tower, in this magical place, with these impossibly perfect Alphas?
This isn’t my life. My life is tiny apartments and rejection letters and boyfriends who ruin my heart.
Yet, here I stand, surrounded by breathtaking views and inexplicable kindness from strangers who owe me nothing.
I turn back to the panorama of mountains and forests, pressing my palm against the cool glass as if I could somehow absorb the serenity of the landscape.
Maybe, just maybe, this unexpected detour is exactly what I need.
A place to lick my wounds, finish my novel, and remember who Emma Collins is outside of Chad’s shadow.
And if that process happens to include occasional moments of electricity with ridiculously attractive Alphas?
Well, I’m only human.
Or rather, only Omega.
I hear footsteps on the stairs and straighten my shoulders.
Time to catch up with Levi.
Hopefully, I can manage not to fall down the tower or say something absurdly awkward.
But given my track record so far in Whispering Grove, I’m not betting on it.