Chapter 12
TWELVE
willa
I make it exactly three hallways, two flights of stairs, and halfway across the parking lot before a strong hand wraps around my arm and pulls me to a stop.
“Willa. Wait.”
Charlie’s voice. Of course it’s Charlie.
I yank my arm free and spin to face him. Beau and Jake step behind him. My heart is racing, my hands are shaking, and I can’t decide if I want to scream at them or burst into tears.
I settle for cold fury instead.
“Wait?” The word comes out sharp enough to cut. “You want me to wait? After what you just did in there?”
“We need to talk,” Charlie says, his voice maddeningly calm.
“Oh, now you want to talk? That’s interesting, considering you just made a life-altering decision for me without bothering to ask what I wanted.”
Jake steps forward, his expression pleading. “Willa, we were trying to help—”
“Help?” I laugh, and it sounds unhinged even to my own ears. “You call claiming I’m in a courtship with you—with all three of you—without my consent helping?”
“You were about to lose your job,” Jake says quietly. “We couldn’t let that happen.”
“So instead you decided to trap me in a fake relationship?” My voice is rising, and I don’t care. Let the whole parking lot hear. “Did it occur to any of you that maybe I’d rather lose the job than be forced into this?”
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I’m too angry to care. Too angry and too scared and too overwhelmed by the fact that fifteen minutes ago, Charlie Holt, the first boy I ever pined for, my first kiss, just stood in a boardroom and claimed he and his pack had been courting me.
Courting me.
Like I somehow blipped out of my reality into an alternate dimension. I’ve never been courted; the only pack that ever really wanted me was Felton’s and fuck no.
Pack McCrea, courting me… It is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.
“We’re not trying to trap you,” Charlie says, taking a step closer. I take a step back. “We’re trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection. I don’t need you to swoop in and save me like I’m some damsel in distress. I had it handled.”
“You were about to throw yourself under the bus,” Beau argues. “That’s not handling it, that’s martyrdom.”
His deep baritone cascades over me, making my skin tingle even now.
“It’s my career. My choice. My life.” I’m trembling now, the adrenaline from the meeting finally catching up to me. “You had no right.”
“You’re right,” Charlie says, and the agreement catches me off guard.
“We should have asked. We should have talked to you first. But there wasn’t time, and we—” He breaks off, running a hand through his russet-colored hair.
“We panicked, okay? We saw you about to sacrifice everything, and we couldn’t let that happen. ”
“Believe it or not, we were planning to ask you to consider courting our pack before all of this happened,” Beau says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world—which it definitely is not.
“Why?” The question bursts out before I can stop it. “Why do you even care? You don’t know me. Not really. A few conversations, one kiss, and suddenly you’re willing to lie to the APbrA for me? It doesn’t make sense.”
The three of them exchange a look, some wordless communication passing between them that I can’t decipher.
“We care because—” Jake starts, but I cut him off.
“Just stop.” My voice cracks. I try to hide the wince when a look of hurt crosses his beautiful face, a face I used to love more than anything. “Don’t feed me some line about pack bonds or Omega protection or whatever you think I want to hear. I’m not stupid. I know what this is.”
“What do you think this is?” Beau asks carefully.
“Pity.” The word tastes like ash. “Or guilt. Or some old-school sense of honor or something, because you don’t want to see someone lose their livelihood over a video you’re in. I get it. But don’t pretend this is something it’s not.”
Charlie’s jaw clenches. “You think we offered out of pity?”
“What else could it be?” I throw my hands up.
“Charlie, you’re my brother’s best friend, and you already turned me down once.
Jake, our history is complicated at best, and fucking tragic at worst. And Beau?
” I turn to him, and my chest aches at the hurt in his eyes.
“You’re Beau McCrae. You could have any Omega you want.
Why would you want someone like me? I met you less than a week ago. ”
My Omega instinct objects to all of this, my scent souring in my panic that they might change their minds. My head is fucking mess.
“Someone like you?” Beau’s voice is quiet, with a look of confusion and concern.
“Useless,” I whisper. “Someone who can’t even keep her own life together, let alone fit into a pack.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
Then Beau steps forward, and this time, when I try to back away, I hit the side of my car. He stops just short of crowding me, his presence overwhelming but not threatening. His scent—the one I find impossible to resist—wraps around me, making my heart race.
“Willa,” he says, his voice, low and intense, makes little butterflies squirm inside me.
“This situation is fucked, I’ll give you that.
But I’m not going to lie and say I regret yesterday, or that I’d do it differently.
” He raises his hand to slowly cup the side of my face, and my pulse thunders.
“You are not broken. You are not baggage. And you sure as hell aren’t a pity project. ”
“Then what am I?” The question comes out smaller than I intended.
“Ours,” Jake says from behind Charlie. And I have to strain to hear the rest. “If you’ll let us prove it.”
My Omega perks up at the word, and I desperately want it to be true. The place in my heart that swells with longing for a pack and for these Alphas is pure and intense. Could these three men actually want me, for a reason other than an obligation?
“This can’t be for real,” I say firmly, pulling on every ounce of strength. “Whatever they say or how much pressure they put on me or you three, I won’t trap you in something you don’t actually want just because you feel obligated to save me or yourselves.”
“Willa—” Charlie starts before I cut him off.
“No.” I hold up a hand. “If we’re going to do this, if I’m going to agree to this fake courtship, then we need rules. Boundaries. An exit strategy.”
Charlie’s expression shifts, resignation replacing the intensity. “Okay. How do you want this to work?”
“Two months,” I say, the number feeling both too long and not long enough. “We keep up the charade for two months, then we mutually agree we’re not compatible. Clean break. No one’s the wiser.”
“Two months,” Beau repeats slowly.
“And we need to be clear about what this is and isn’t.” I’m on a roll now, my brain shifting into problem-solving mode because that’s safer than feeling. “Maybe some public appearances. Enough to make it believable. But no…” I trail off, my face heating.
“No, what?” Jake prompts gently.
“No kissing,” I force out. “No touching unless absolutely necessary. No ownership displays. This is business, not pleasure.”
The words feel like lies even as I say them, especially when I remember how Beau’s lips felt against mine, how Jake’s almost-touch made my skin sing with wanting.
“We should probably go on some dates,” Charlie suggests. “If we’re courting, people will expect to see us together.”
I nod stiffly. “Fine. Four dates. One with each of you individually, and one pack date. But they’re public. Casual. Nothing that looks too… intimate.”
“Anything else?” Beau asks, and I can’t tell if he’s amused or hurt.
“No sex. No biting. No claiming.” The words are automatic. “This is fake. It stays fake.”
Charlie nods slowly. “Okay. We can work with that.”
“There’s one more thing,” Beau says. “We need to be very public about this for the next week or so. The board needs to see that this is real, that we’re serious.”
My stomach drops. “How public?”
“Town events. Meals at places where people will see us. And…” He hesitates. “You’ll need to come to Denver with us for the last leg of the season.”
“Denver?” I repeat faintly. I’m not sure which event APbrA was going to send me to next, but the idea of being with them makes me just as frazzled and antsy as not being with them. The war between my logic and instincts is making me crazy.
“It’s the championship round,” Jake explains. “If we’re courting, you’d be expected to be there. To support your pack.”
The word “pack” sends a shiver through me that I desperately try to ignore.
“Fine. I can request from the scheduler, but there is no guarantee,” I hear myself say. “If it happens, we’re driving separately. I’ll get my own hotel room.”
“People will talk if we’re not staying together,” Beau points out.
“Let them talk. I’m not—” I break off, shaking my head. “I need some boundaries that are just mine, okay? Some space that’s not… this.”
The three of them exchange another look, and I hate that they can communicate so effortlessly when I feel like I’m drowning.
“Okay,” Jake finally agrees. “Your own room. But you have to at least have meals with us. Breakfast, dinner. Be seen.”
“Fine.”
“And you’ll have to be with us at the publicity events if you can,” Beau adds. “The media is going to go crazy.”
The thought of publicly claiming affiliation with Pack McCrae makes my Omega practically purr. Which is exactly why I need to shut this down.
“This isn’t real,” I repeat, as much for myself as for them. “You need to understand that. I’m agreeing to this arrangement because I don’t have another choice, not because I believe in it.”
“We understand,” Charlie says, but something in his eyes suggests he very much looks forward to proving me wrong.
“Good.” I fumble for my car door handle, desperate to escape before I do something stupid like cry or beg them to tell me this could be real. “Send me the details for whatever public appearance you have planned first. I’ll be there.”
“Willa,” Beau says as I yank the door open. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I would have wanted to do this differently. We should have asked first.”
The apology threatens to undo me, so I just nod and slide into my car. They step back, giving me space, and I start the engine with shaking hands.
As I pull out of the parking lot, I catch a glimpse of them in my rearview mirror—three Alphas standing together, watching me leave.
And despite everything I just said, despite all my rules and boundaries and insistence that this isn’t real, I can’t ignore the small, traitorous part of me that wishes it was.
The part that remembers summers spent trailing after Charlie, soaking in his steady presence. The part that can’t forget how Jake looked at me in that barn, like I mattered. The part that still feels Beau’s lips against mine, his hands on my hips, his whispered words in my ear.
You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Let us take care of you.
I want to let them. God help me, I want to let them take care of me, want to believe that this could be something real and lasting and good.
But I learned a long time ago that wanting things only leads to disappointment. That letting people in only gives them the power to hurt you. That hope is just another word for setting yourself up for failure.
So I’ll play my part. I’ll show up to the dinners, and the events, and the championship in Denver. I’ll let them stand close enough that people believe we’re courting. I’ll maybe even let myself enjoy being wrapped in their scents, in the temporary fantasy that I could belong to a pack like theirs.
But I won’t let my heart get involved. Won’t let myself believe this is anything more than a business arrangement with an expiration date.
Even if the tingle of excitement in my chest and the pleased rumble of my Omega suggest that keeping my heart out of this is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Two months. I can survive anything for two months.
Then I’ll go back to my regularly scheduled life of solitude and self-sufficiency, and Pack McCrae can find an Omega who wants to be a center.
The thought should be comforting.
Instead, it just makes me want to cry.
I make it three blocks before I have to pull over, my hands shaking too hard to drive safely. I grip the steering wheel and force myself to breathe through the panic and confusion and that stupid, stubborn hope that refuses to die.
This is fake. It’s temporary. It’s a means to an end.
I just have to keep reminding myself of that.
Even if every instinct I have is screaming that I’m lying to myself.
Even if the thought of walking away in two months feels like I’ll be tearing out a piece of my own heart.
Even if, deep down, I’m terrified that I’m going to fall for them—for all three of them—and there won’t be any way to protect myself when this arrangement ends, and I’m left alone again.
But that’s a problem for future Willa.
Present Willa just has to survive the next two months without completely losing herself to a fantasy that was never meant to be real.
How hard could it be?