Chapter 17 Willa
SEVENTEEN
willa
Willa: Help! What do I wear on a surprise date with someone who has already seen me naked?
Josie: Where are you going?
Baby: Something that shows leg. And cleavage. Both if possible.
Willa: I have no idea. He said to dress warm.
Baby: Warm can still be sexy.
Josie: Where’s he taking you?
Willa: He won’t tell me. It’s a surprise.
Baby: Oooh, mysterious. I approve.
Willa: You’re not helping.
Josie: Jeans and a cute sweater? You can’t go wrong with that.
Baby: BORING. Wear a dress. Make him suffer.
Willa: It’s November in Wyoming. I’ll freeze to death.
Baby: That’s what Alphas are for. Body heat
My phone buzzes on the bathroom counter, and I grab it with one hand while trying to finish my eyeliner with the other.
Jake is on his way in ten minues!
Ten minutes. I’m still in my towel.
My heart does this stupid fluttering thing that I hate.
That I’ve been trying to ignore all day.
Ever since last night, when he had me pressed against my car, his fingers inside me, making me come apart like I was made for it.
Like my body remembered exactly how good it was with him, even after all these years.
Fuck.
I set the phone down and grip the edge of the sink, staring at my reflection.
My cheeks are flushed, have been since I got out of the shower.
Since I started getting ready for this date.
Since I woke up this morning with the memory of his hands on me, his mouth on mine, the way he tasted me like he couldn’t get enough.
My Omega is practically vibrating with anticipation. She wants him—hell, she’s wanted him since the second I saw him again. And my body knows exactly what it wants, too—more of last night, more of his hands, more of the way he makes me feel claimed and safe and wanted.
But my heart… my heart is screaming at me to be careful. To remember what it felt like when he walked away. When he chose his fear over me. When he made me feel like I wasn’t enough.
He was just a kid. You were both kids.
I know that. Logically, I know that. But logic doesn’t make the old wound hurt any less. Doesn’t make it any easier to trust that this time will be different. That he won’t panic and run again when things get real.
And they’re getting real. Fast. Too fast.
My Omega doesn’t care about any of that. She just knows he’s coming, and she wants to be ready for him. Wants to look good for him. Wants to smell good for him. Wants him to look at me the way he did last night—like I’m everything he’s ever wanted.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
I abandon the eyeliner and rush to my closet, staring at the pathetic selection of clothes like something perfect will magically appear.
I groan and toss my phone on the bed. Five minutes now. I yank on a pair of skinny jeans—the dark wash ones that make my ass look good—and grab an oversized green sweater from the closet. It’s soft, comfortable, and if everything goes to shit, I can hide in it.
Why I ever agreed to this, I have no idea… I hate dating.
A last glance in the mirror… Good enough. Except for the unruly mass of shoulder-length blonde curls that refuse to do anything but frizz in the dry air.
I secure it in a ponytail and stare at myself in the mirror. Jake has seen me in all the good and bad ways. There’s no point in pretending to be something I’m not.
This is me. Take it or leave it.
My phone buzzes again, and I grab it expecting another message from Baby, but it’s Jake.
Jake: Here.
My stomach does a flip. I grab my coat, shove my phone in my pocket, and head for the door. But halfway there, a small cramp makes me pause. It’s low in my belly, just a twinge, and I write it off as nerves.
I take a breath and open the door.
Jake’s hand is raised, poised to knock. He’s wearing dark jeans, boots, and a heavy jacket that makes his shoulders look impossibly broad.
His light brown hair is slightly messy, like he ran his hands through it one too many times, and when he sees me, that devastating smile spreads across his face.
“Hey, Wills.”
“Hey.” I lock the door behind me, very aware of how his eyes track my movement. “So are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He opens the passenger door for me, and I catch a whiff of his scent—chocolate and spice. “Trust me.”
“You keep saying that.”
“So what’s one more time?” He winks and closes the door once I’m settled.
The drive into town is easy, comfortable.
Jake keeps up a steady stream of conversation about nothing and everything—the ranch, Charlie’s trip to Tennessee, some story about Beau getting kicked by a particularly ornery bull last year.
I relax into my seat, watching the familiar landscape roll by, and try to ignore the way my body heats every time Jake’s hand moves on the gearshift.
When we pull into downtown, I’m confused. “Jake, what—”
“Just wait.”
He parks, and that’s when I see it—the outdoor ice rink set up in the town square. There are food booths lining the perimeter, strings of Christmas lights everywhere, and people bundled up in coats and scarves, skating in lazy circles on the ice.
“Ice skating?” I look down at my outfit—jeans and an oversized sweater—and feel suddenly underdressed.
Jake catches the look. “You’re fine. You look perfect.”
I reach for my coat, silently thanking myself for remembering it at the last minute. It’s not exactly glamorous—just the one I wear to work—but at least I won’t freeze to death.
The outdoor rink is beautiful: white lights strung overhead, a small stand selling hot cocoa and cider, Christmas music playing from speakers hidden somewhere in the decorations.
The whole square is transformed into a winter wonderland, and despite my nerves, I feel something warm unfold in my chest.
“The town goes crazy for the holidays,” Jake says, guiding me toward one of the food booths. “This is just the start. Wait until you see the market next week.”
“I remember.” I have vague memories of childhood Christmases, back when things were simpler. Before my father became unbearable. Before I learned that wanting things only led to disappointment.
Jake buys us hot apple cider, and we walk through the booths, looking at handmade crafts and decorations.
Everything smells like cinnamon and pine, and the cold air is momentarily interrupted by warm pockets as we weave around outdoor heaters set up along the pedestrian path.
The cold wind still bites at my cheeks in a way that feels more invigorating than uncomfortable.
“So when did you officially join Pack McCrae?” I ask as we walk through the vendor stalls, the Christmas lights casting everything in a warm glow.
Jake’s hand finds mine, his fingers threading through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “About six years ago. Right after—” He pauses. “Right after I left.”
The timeline clicks into place. “You and Beau packed up right after you left me?”
“Yeah. Met him on the circuit. He was dealing with his own shit, I was dealing with mine. We just… clicked.” He squeezes my hand. “Charlie joined not long after. Maybe six months later?”
“And that’s when you realized you both knew me?”
“Yeah, that’s when we realized we had you in common.” He grins sheepishly. “Charlie talked about you sometimes. His best friend’s little sister who was too smart for her own good and could outride half the ranch hands.”
“He said that?”
“He said a lot of things. Took me a while to connect the dots that his Willa and my Willa were the same person.” His voice drops on “my Willa” in a way that makes my stomach flip.
“I didn’t know I was ever your Willa.”
“You were. You are.” He says it with such certainty. “I just didn’t deserve you then.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I change the subject. “Charlie’s out of town, right?”
“Yeah. Some benefit thing in Tennessee. He’ll be back tonight, though.” Jake watches me carefully. “You haven’t talked to him yet. Really talked, I mean.”
It’s not a question. “How did you—”
“He’s been moping around the ranch like a kicked puppy. And you get this look whenever his name comes up.”
“What look?”
“Like you’re trying to solve a complicated math problem and all the numbers keep changing.”
I huff out a laugh despite myself. “That’s… actually pretty accurate.”
“So what’s stopping you?” He steers us toward a bench, and we sit, the bag of chestnuts between us.
“I don’t know.” I pick at the paper cone. “Charlie and I were close once. Best friends, practically. And then I left for college, and we just… lost contact. And now he’s claiming we’ve been courting, and I don’t know if he did it because he had to or because he wanted to.”
“Both,” Jake says simply.
“What?”
“Both. He had to because you were about to lose your job, and he couldn’t let that happen.
And he wanted to because he’s been carrying a torch for you since you were kids.
” He pops a chestnut in his mouth. “He told me once, back when we first packed, that he pushed you away because he couldn’t handle what he felt for you.
Said it wasn’t right, you being his best friend’s sister. ”
My chest tightens. “He never said anything.”
“Charlie’s not great with words. But he’s loyal and protective, and he doesn’t do anything halfway. When he commits, he commits.” Jake nudges my shoulder. “Talk to him.”
“Maybe.”
“And your brother.” Jake’s expression turns serious. “You haven’t talked to him either, have you?”
My stomach drops. “No. Not since I got back to town.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I know I should. But every time I think about calling him, I just… freeze. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, by the way, I haven’t talked to you since I left, but check this out, I’m fake courting your best friend?”
“How about ‘hey, I’m back in town, and I miss you’?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It could be.” He stands and offers me his hand, “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”