Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
willa
The Dust Up smells like old books, lavender sachets, and the sharp bite of red wine. I love it when we get to meet here; there’s something so eccentric about hanging out in an old antique store and lounging on a hundred-year-old furniture.
I’m perched on a velvet settee that’s seen better days, Buttercup sprawled across my feet like he owns the place. The mangy Pomeranian lifts his head every few seconds to eye Pearl’s leg with alarming interest.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn him, but he’s already army-crawling toward her.
Pearl—one-third of the infamous Porch Committee and looking elegant as ever in her rhinestone-studded Western shirt—just laughs and redirects him with a gentle nudge of her boot. “This dog has no shame.”
“Charlie wouldn’t let me leave without him.” I take a sip of wine, letting the warmth spread through my chest. “Said I needed emotional support.”
“Smart man.” Josie appears from the back room carrying three more wine glasses and a paperback with a shirtless cowboy on the cover.
Her scent—coconut and cloves with an undertone of cherry—wraps around me like comfort.
“Though I’m pretty sure Buttercup’s the one who needs emotional support. He looks… sensitive?”
“He tried to hump Beau’s leg this morning. Beau was not amused.”
Josie snorts, setting the glasses down on the coffee table that Winona has draped with a frilly doily. Winona Carr, the owner of The Dust Up, is in the back room, getting the space set up.
Do I think it’s weird that when the antiques store closes, her little tarot card shop opens? And that there is a surprising amount of locals who regularly seek out advice from “Madame Carr”? Fuck yeah. But do I love it even more because of that? Absolutely.
“So.” Josie settles into the chair across from me, tucking her legs beneath her. Her Omega scent spikes slightly—nervous energy I can taste on my tongue. “Baby texted. She’s bringing Dot and a surprise.”
“A surprise?” I raise an eyebrow.
Pearl tops off my wine glass with a knowing smile. “You’ll see.”
I study Josie, noting the way she’s fidgeting with her bracelet—a nervous tell she’s had since we were kids. There’s something she’s not saying, something hovering in the air between us.
“Josie? What’s up?”
She fidgets with her bracelet, not meeting my eyes. “Um, I may have… possibly… meddled?”
I narrow my eyes at her over my wine glass. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Have you talked to Caleb?” she asks, her voice trying for casual and failing spectacularly.
I give her an accusing look and take a slow sip of wine, letting the silence stretch.
“No. Have you?” I say in a teasing tone, expecting her to come clean or deny it. Josie has always felt the very mother hen-esque need to keep Caleb informed of my comings and goings.
But her blush deepens, spreads from her cheeks down her neck. The way she won’t quite meet my eyes. The spike in her scent screams interest, attraction, and want. And something I had never thought before settles into my mind, and all of a sudden I feel like a total idiot at how obvious it is.
My brother. Josie has a crush on my brother. How did I never connect those dots?
I file that away for later, because there’s no way I’m letting that go. But right now, there are more important things to address.
“I may have let it slip that you were back in town,” Josie says quietly, still not looking at me.
I blink. “You told Caleb?”
“He called asking if I’d heard from you. Apparently, rumors had gotten to him from somewhere. I didn’t want to lie.” She finally meets my eyes, and there’s worry there. Real worry. “He was shocked. And kind of annoyed that he had to hear it from me instead of you. Are you mad?”
I should be. Should be furious that she took that choice away from me. But looking at her, at the genuine concern on her face, I can’t find it in me to be angry.
“No,” I say honestly. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re not?”
“I was planning to tell him. I would have. Eventually.” I set down my wine glass. “It’s just… I don’t really know what to say. ‘Hey, brother I haven’t talked to in six years, I’ve been back home for some time and also bonding with your best friend and his pack’?”
Josie’s laugh is a little watery. “When you put it like that…”
“Yeah.” I pull her into a hug, feeling her relax into me. “It’s fine. Really. You probably did me a favor. At least now he knows I’m alive.”
“He was really worried about you, Willa. We all were.”
“I know.” The guilt sits heavy in my chest. “I’m going to fix it. I’m going to talk to him. I promise.”
I keep holding her, and something in my chest finally starts to unclench. Pearl joins us a moment later, her arms wrapping around both of us, and Buttercup loses his mind with excitement, barking and jumping at our legs.
“Young love,” Pearl says with a knowing smile. “Never gets old.”
“Stupid dog,” I mutter, laughing and crying at the same time.
“Good dog,” Pearl corrects, pulling back to study my face. Her Omega senses are sharp—sharper than most—and I know she can read every emotion I’m trying to hide. “How are you doing? Really?”
I sink back into the settee, Buttercup immediately reclaiming his spot on my feet. “I’m good. Really good, actually.”
My mind flashes to the hotel room, and my heart stutters. I haven’t told anyone besides Josie about Felton and the APbrA, but Pack McCrea’s interest—and my downright failure at pretending otherwise—is common knowledge by now.
“Are they taking care of you?” Pearl asks with a wink, settling back into her chair with the ease of someone who’s spent decades reading people.
Heat creeps up my neck. “They’ve been… yeah. They’ve been taking excellent care of me.”
“We can smell them all over you,” Josie says, grinning now. “Very thorough.”
“Josie.” I grab a throw pillow and launch it at her head.
She catches it easily, laughing. “What? I’m just saying, for someone who’s been off Alpha for years, you’re coming around really well.”
“I’m not—” I start, then stop, because the denial dies on my tongue.
“Not what?” Josie grins wickedly. “Not absolutely glowing? Not smiling like you have been thoroughly”—she makes a ridiculous middle school gesture that has me burst into laughter—“by three very attentive Alphas?”
“Not pregnant by Christmas?” Pearl finishes with a knowing smile. “I’d bet good money you will be.”
My face flames. “Pearl!”
“What? I’m just saying.” She tops off my wine glass with a look that says she’s enjoying this far too much. “The way those boys look at you… I give it three months tops.”
“I’m not pregnant,” I protest weakly.
“Yet,” Josie adds. “But you will be. You’re a fucking babe, and I bet they won’t leave you alone once winter break sets in … you know, snowed in, nothing to do, power goes out, only one bed?” She makes a little explosion gesture with her hands.
“Oh my god.” I bury my face in my hands, but I can’t stop the smile. “Can we not talk about my reproductive future?”
“Why not? It’s exciting!” Josie bounces slightly in her seat. “Little Omega babies with Willa eyes!”
“Stop.” But I’m laughing now, even as my face burns hotter. “You’re both terrible.”
“We’re both right,” Pearl corrects. “And you know it.”
A light-as-air feeling races around my chest, and a little voice whispers, “Yes!” at the thought.
“I can’t think about that right now,” I say, taking a long sip of wine. “One life-changing decision at a time.”
Pearl and Josie exchange knowing looks, and I groan.
“You two are the worst.”
“We’re the best,” Pearl corrects. “And we’re going to throw you the most amazing baby shower when the time comes.”
“If the time comes,” I correct.
“When,” they say in unison, and burst out laughing at my expression.
I shake my head, but I can’t deny the warmth spreading through my chest. The happiness at the thought of a future here, with them, with my pack. A future that includes everything I never let myself want before.
The bell above the door jingles, and Buttercup springs to his feet, barking wildly.
“Down, you menace,” comes Baby’s familiar voice, and I look up to see her bustling through the door with a bag I’m desperately hoping is filled with snacks and not just more booze. Her other arm is looped through Dot’s, who’s pulling a reluctant Saramaria into the warmth of the shop.
Baby looks exactly like she always does—tousled hair that refuses to stay put, sharp eyes, and that “don’t fuck with me” energy that’s absolutely magnetic.
Dot, Pearl’s girlfriend, is grinning like she’s just won the lottery when she sees Pearl—and the glass of red wine she’s handing her. And then there’s Saramaria, who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.
“There’s my girl!” Baby pulls me into a one-armed hug, her scent rich and sweet—blueberries and magnolia. “Soooo… what was it like?” she asks with mock innocence, unloading the bag of supplies onto the table. Relief floods me as I spot crackers, cheese, and whiskey.
I know exactly what she means—my heat—and I blush all the way to my hairline.
“Good,” I admit, laughing as she squeezes me tighter. “Really good.”
“I can smell that.” She pulls back with a knowing smirk. “You absolutely reek of them. It’s disgusting. I love it.”
Dot presses a kiss to Pearl’s cheek before settling into the chair beside her. “We picked up a surprise,” she announces, gesturing to Saramaria.
Saramaria, who’s still standing awkwardly near the door, looks like she’s contemplating making a run for it.
“Sit,” Josie commands, pointing to the plush armchair next to the sofa. “You’re not escaping book club tonight.”
“I don’t even like romance novels,” Saramaria protests weakly.
“Doesn’t matter.” Baby’s already pouring wine into a glass and pressing it into Saramaria’s hand. “You’re one of us now. Resistance is futile.”
“I hate all of you,” Saramaria mutters, but she sits, taking a long sip of wine.
“No, you don’t,” Pearl says warmly. “You’re just not ready to admit it yet.”
I grin at Saramaria, remembering how awkward she’d been the last time we’d met. “Good to see you again. How’s the puppy?”
She smiles at me and relaxes a little. “Really good, thanks. He’s not even mine, but he’s convinced himself that he is.”
“Sounds about right for dogs,” I say.
“What about your houseguests?” Josie asks, her tone carefully innocent.
Saramaria’s expression goes flat. “They’re still squatting on my property. Still refusing to leave.”
“Have they told you yet what their plan is?” Pearl leans forward, genuinely curious.
“Their plan is apparently to stay forever and make my life a living hell.” Saramaria takes a long sip of wine. “I filed eviction papers last week.”
“You what?” Baby sits up straighter. “You’re actually trying to kick them out?”
“They’re trespassing,” Saramaria says flatly. “My grandfather may have given them permission to stay, but he’s dead, and I own the property now. They need to go.”
“And?” Josie prompts. “What did they say?”
“They’re refusing to leave.” Saramaria’s jaw tightens. “Something about tenancy rights and needing proper notice. Apparently, I can’t just kick them out overnight.”
“So what are you going to do?” I ask.
“New plan: I move into the main house regardless and wait them out.” Her tone brooks no argument. “It’s my property. If they want to live in the bunkhouse with the mice like stubborn assholes, fine. But I’m not staying away from my own home because they refuse to leave.”
And like the act of defiance lights a fire in the small Omega, her eyes burn with determination.
“They have no idea what I can do when I’m pissed off.” A fierce smile crosses her face. “But they won’t take away what’s mine.”
The vehemence in her tone makes it clear the subject is closed.
“Okay,” Josie says gently. “We hear you.”
Saramaria nods once, sharp and final, then takes another long drink of wine.
The rest of us exchange glances and then simultaneously burst into laughter at the absolutely evil grin on Saramaria’s face.
Dot shifts in her seat next to Pearl, their fingers automatically intertwining. “So, Willa. Spill. How’s it really going with the pack?”
All eyes turn to me, and I feel my face heat.
“I told Jake yesterday that I want to bond with them. With Pack McCrae.”
The room goes silent except for Buttercup’s snoring.
Then everyone starts talking at once.
“Finally!” Josie squeals.
“Knew it,” Baby mutters.
I feel a buzz in my pocket and pull my phone out to check. Like he can tell we’re talking about him, it’s a text from Charlie.
Charlie: See you tomorrow, beautiful.