Chapter Lucas
Lucas
Theo isn’t answering his phone.
I’ve called three times in the last hour, and each time it goes straight to voicemail. Which isn’t like him. Theo always answers. Theo answers calls from telemarketers just to chat with them about their day.
I pull up our group chat and scroll through the messages. Nothing since this morning, when he mentioned repotting seedlings at the greenhouse. That was five hours ago.
“He’s probably just busy.” Nate’s voice comes from the kitchen doorway. He’s leaning against the frame, arms crossed, watching me pace.
“For five hours? Without checking his phone once?”
“Some people don’t live with their phones surgically attached to their hands.”
“Theo does.” I run a hand through my hair, pushing my glasses up. “Something’s off. I can feel it.”
Nate sighs. “Or he’s fine and you’re overthinking. Like always.”
I stop pacing and turn to face him. He looks tired. There are shadows under his eyes that weren’t there a week ago, and his scent is locked down so tight I can barely smell him. Pine and woodsmoke, muted and distant.
He’s been like this since the bar. Since he told Cara he didn’t need her and then spent the rest of the night staring at his bedroom ceiling. I know because I was awake too, listening to him not sleep through the wall.
“We need to talk,” I say.
“No, we don’t.”
“Nate—”
“I said no.” His jaw tightens. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“There’s everything to talk about.” I close the distance between us, stopping just out of arm’s reach. “Cara’s back. She’s here, she’s trying, and you’re—”
“I’m what?”
“Hiding.”
His eyes flash. “I’m not hiding. I’m being realistic.”
“You’re being a coward.”
The words land like a slap. Nate’s whole body goes rigid, and for a second I think he might actually hit me. We haven’t fought—really fought—since we were teenagers. But the anger rolling off him right now is palpable, sharp enough to cut through even his tightly controlled scent.
“Say that again,” he says quietly.
“You heard me.” I don’t back down. Can’t. Someone has to push him, and Theo’s too gentle to do it. “You’re scared. You’ve been scared since she walked back into town, and instead of dealing with it, you’re pushing her away. Pushing us away.”
“I’m protecting myself.”
“You’re punishing her. And yourself. And the rest of us who have to watch you self-destruct.”
Nate’s hands clench into fists at his sides. “She left, Lucas. She left and she didn’t come back for ten years. What am I supposed to do, just forget that?”
“No. You’re supposed to let her try. Let both of you try.”
“And if it doesn’t work? If she leaves again?”
“Then we deal with it. Together. Like a pack.”
The word hangs between us. Pack. The thing we’ve been dancing around for a decade. The three of us, living in this house, sharing this life, waiting for the omega who was supposed to complete us.
And now she’s here. And Nate won’t let himself have her.
“I can’t,” he says finally, and his voice cracks on the word. “I can’t go through that again.”
“You won’t have to. Not alone.” I reach out, grip his shoulder. “But you have to let us in. Let her in. Stop pretending you don’t need her when we both know you’re barely holding it together.”
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t shake off my hand either, which is progress.
“I’m going to the greenhouse,” I say. “To drag Theo out of whatever horticultural hyperfocus he’s gotten himself into. And when I get back, the three of us are going to sit down and figure this out. Together.”
“Lucas—”
“You don’t have a choice.” I squeeze his shoulder once, then let go. “This is happening. All of it. Whether you’re ready or not.”
I grab my keys and head for the door before he can argue.
The drive to Holt Nursery takes twelve minutes. I spend every one of them rehearsing what I’m going to say to Theo, how I’m going to convince him to help me stage an intervention for Nate.
All of that goes out the window the second I step into the greenhouse.
Sex. The scent is rich and unmistakable, thick enough to taste on my tongue. And underneath it, woven through like threads in a tapestry—Theo’s scent. Earth and honeysuckle, warm and golden.
And Cara’s.
Honey and citrus, sweeter than I remember, deeper somehow. It curls through the humid air and wraps around my chest, squeezes. I have to brace myself against a plant table just to stay upright.
Fuck.
My cock stirs in my jeans, and I force myself to breathe through my mouth. She smells incredible. Better than incredible. She smells like everything I’ve been missing for the last decade.
I push deeper into the greenhouse, following the trail of their mingled scents. There’s dirt scattered across the floor. Broken pots. A potting bench that’s been shoved several inches out of place.
And Theo’s phone, sitting abandoned on the ground beside it.
I pick it up. The screen shows seventeen missed calls. Three from me, fourteen from various nursery suppliers he’s apparently been ignoring all day.
Because he was busy.
Busy with Cara on his potting bench, from the smell of things.
And god, I’m happy for him. I can smell it in the lingering traces of his scent—the satisfaction, the joy threaded through the arousal. Theo’s been waiting for this just as long as I have.
If Cara’s with Theo, that means she’s at the cottage.
I pocket his phone and head for the door.
Warm light spills from the cottage windows. Smoke curls from the chimney, pale against the darkening sky. The whole place looks like something out of a painting—cozy and inviting, glowing against the February cold.
I knock once, then push the door open without waiting for an answer.
It’s Cara’s scent that stops me in my tracks. Honey and citrus, but richer than I’ve ever smelled it. Sweeter. Almost like... but no. She’s on suppressants. It’s probably just the sex.
“Lucas?”
Theo’s voice comes from the small dining table. He’s sitting there with a bowl of risotto in front of him, wearing nothing but jeans. Bare feet, bare chest, hair still damp from a recent shower.
And Cara.
She’s sitting across from him, and she’s wearing his clothes. An oversized t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder, gray sweatpants rolled at the waist. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and her cheeks are flushed, and she looks...
She looks like she belongs here.
“You weren’t answering your phone.” I hold up the device. “Found it in the greenhouse. Along with what appears to be the aftermath of a natural disaster.”
Theo has the grace to look sheepish. “Yeah, we, uh. Got a little distracted.”
“I noticed.”
Cara’s cheeks go pinker. “Lucas. Hi.”
“Hi.” I step further into the cottage, letting the door swing shut behind me. The heat from the fireplace wraps around me, but it’s nothing compared to the heat building in my blood. “Having a good evening?”
“I—yes.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture I remember from a decade ago. “Theo made risotto.”
“I can see that.”
“There’s more on the stove,” Theo offers. “If you’re hungry.”
I’m hungry. But not for risotto.
I cross the room and pull out the chair beside Cara. She tenses when I sit, then relaxes when I don’t immediately pounce on her. Like she’s not sure what to expect from me.
Fair enough. I’m not entirely sure either.
“Theo.” I set his phone on the table. “I take it things went well this afternoon?”
He grins. “You could say that.”
Cara ducks her head, but I catch her smile.
“She’s staying,” Theo says, and there’s so much joy in his voice it’s almost painful. “She called her landlord. She’s moving back.”
The words hit me square in the chest. “You’re staying?”
Cara lifts her eyes to mine. “I’m staying. Permanently. I just have to go back to LA, pack up my stuff, get Mr. Darcy, and then... I’m coming home.”
Home. She called it home.
“I told you she would,” Theo says smugly. “You owe me twenty bucks.”
“I never bet you twenty bucks.”
“You should have. I would’ve won.”
But I’m not looking at Theo anymore. I’m looking at Cara, who’s watching me with those ocean-blue eyes, soft and hopeful.
She reaches across the table and takes my hand. Her fingers are warm, a little trembling. Then she lifts it to her mouth and presses a kiss to my knuckles.
The scent hits me instantly. Slick. Fresh and sweet and unmistakable, cutting through everything else in the room.
Cara’s cheeks flush red. “Sorry, I—” She pulls her hand back, presses her thighs together. “That’s been happening a lot. Around you three.”
“Yeah?” I keep my voice steady, even though my heart is pounding. “How long?”
“Since I got back.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, not meeting my eyes. “I’m on suppressants and birth control, but they’ve been... a little off lately. The suppressants, I mean.”
“Off how?”
“Just—” She gestures vaguely. “More slick than usual. Scents hitting harder. Feeling warmer.” A flush creeps up her cheeks. “I figured it was just being around you guys again. My body remembering.”
I smile at that. “Guess your body missed us.”
“Guess so.” She finally meets my eyes, and there’s something vulnerable there. “Is that... should I be worried?”
“No.” I squeeze her hand. “Just your system readjusting. Nothing to worry about.”
She relaxes, and her thumb traces a circle on my palm. The touch sends heat straight through me.
“Theo had you all afternoon.” I lift her hand to my mouth, press a kiss to her knuckles. She shivers. “I think it’s my turn.”
Her breath catches. “Your turn?”
“Mmhmm.” I hold her gaze, let her see everything I’m feeling. “That okay with you?”
She looks at Theo. He’s leaning back in his chair, completely relaxed, that easy smile playing at his lips.
“Go on,” he says. “I’ll clean up out here.”
She looks at him, and something soft passes between them. He just grins and waves a hand toward the bedroom.
“I’ll be here when you’re done. Take your time.”
She turns back to me, cheeks pink, eyes bright. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I stand, still holding her hand. “That’s all I get? Just ‘okay’?”