Chapter Cara
Cara
Iwake up smiling.
It’s becoming a habit, these past few days. Even here, in my childhood bedroom at Grandma Eileen’s, surrounded by faded cheerleading trophies and old photos, I can’t stop grinning like an idiot.
Two days since the cottage. Two days since Lucas knotted me on Theo’s bed while Theo hummed in the kitchen. Two days of stolen moments and shared meals and falling asleep with my phone pressed to my ear, listening to Theo’s voice until I drifted off.
I stretch under the covers, letting the morning sunlight warm my face. Today’s the day. I’m driving back to LA with Theo to pack up my apartment and get Mr. Darcy. A few days of road trip, then back to Honeyridge Falls for good.
Back to them.
Two down. One to go.
The thought makes my smile falter. Nate still won’t look at me. Still won’t talk to me beyond clipped, professional responses. Still locks his scent down so tight that I can barely smell him, even when we’re in the same room.
But I’m not giving up. I’ve spent ten years running from this—from them—and I’m done. I’m staying. I’m fighting. And eventually, Nate Thorn is going to have to deal with the fact that I love him just as much as I love the other two.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. A text from Theo.
Theo: Morning beautiful. Ready for our adventure?
I grin and type back.
Cara: Born ready. Pick me up in an hour?
Theo: Can’t wait.
I toss the covers off and head for the shower.
An hour later, I’m at The Honey Crumb grabbing road trip snacks when my phone buzzes.
Theo: Change of plans. Threw my back out this morning. SO sorry. But don’t worry — your ride will be out front in 10. You’re in good hands.
I frown at the screen. Threw his back out? He was fine yesterday. We spent the whole afternoon planning the trip, loading snacks into his truck, arguing about the playlist. There was nothing wrong with his back.
Cara: What?? Are you okay? We can postpone...
Theo: No no, you need to get Mr. Darcy! Go. Trust me.
The angel emoji again. Theo has never used an angel emoji in his life.
“Everything alright, honey?”
I look up. Maeve Bennett is watching me from behind the counter, silver hair pulled back in its usual bun, floral apron dusted with flour.
“Theo hurt his back,” I say. “He was supposed to drive me to LA today.”
“Oh no, that’s a shame.” She tsks sympathetically, loading muffins into a paper bag without me having to ask. “Backs can be tricky. One wrong move and you’re out for a week.”
My phone buzzes again.
Lucas: Drive safe. Text us when you stop for the night.
The same angel emoji. From Lucas, who has also never used an angel emoji.
Something is going on here.
“Well, I hope you can still make your trip,” Maeve says, pushing the bag across the counter. “You need to get that cat of yours, don’t you?”
“Mr. Darcy. Yeah.” I’m still staring at my phone, trying to figure out what they’re up to. “Theo says my ride will be here in ten minutes, but he didn’t say who...”
“I’m sure it’ll work out.” She pats my hand, her eyes warm. “You’ve got good people looking out for you, Cara. Always have, even when you didn’t know it.”
I look up at her, and for a moment I think she knows something. But her expression is just... Maeve. Kind and wise and a little knowing, the way she’s always been with every omega who’s walked through her door.
“Muffins are on the house,” she says. “For the road.”
“Maeve, you don’t have to—”
“I want to. Now go on, don’t keep your ride waiting.”
I grab the bag and push through the door, squinting against the morning sun.
Nate’s truck is idling at the curb.
I’d recognize that black F-150 anywhere—the scratch on the bumper, the mud on the wheel wells. The same truck he drove me to the lookout in, back when he could barely look at me.
And behind the wheel, staring straight ahead like he’s hoping I might not notice him—
Nate.
My heart stutters.
He rolls down the passenger window. His jaw is tight, his scent locked down, his expression giving away absolutely nothing.
“Get in,” he says.
I stand there for a moment, clutching my bag of muffins, the pieces clicking into place. Theo’s sudden “back injury.” The cryptic texts. The angel emojis neither of them ever use.
They set me up. Theo and Lucas planned this whole thing.
Oh god. They read my books. They’re using the forced proximity trope on me.
“Cara.” Nate’s voice is impatient. “We’ve got fifteen hours of driving ahead of us. You coming or not?”
I take a breath. Walk around to the passenger side. Haul myself up into the truck.
The door is heavy, the step up higher than I expected. I settle my bag on my lap and click my seatbelt into place.
The truck smells like him. Pine and woodsmoke, faint but there, mixed with coffee and something that might be gun oil. His scent isn’t locked down as tight as usual—probably because he wasn’t expecting to share an enclosed space with me for the next fifteen hours.
“Morning,” I say.
He puts the truck in drive without answering and pulls away from the curb.
We pull away from Main Street in silence. I catch a glimpse of Ashpine Books across the road, the hardware store next to it, the little park at the end of the block where we used to hang out as kids. A few seconds later, we’re past it all—because that’s Honeyridge Falls. Blink and you’ll miss it.
I watch the town shrink in the side mirror and wonder how the hell I’m supposed to survive this.
“You don’t have to do this,” I finally say as we hit the highway. “I can drive myself.”
“Lucas asked.”
“Lucas schemed.”
That gets a reaction—the barest twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Probably.”
“Definitely. Theo’s back is fine. They set us up.”
“I know.”
“And you came anyway?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. The highway stretches out ahead of us, mountains fading in the rearview mirror, and I think he’s not going to answer at all.
“Lucas said you needed help.” His voice is quieter now. “I wasn’t going to let you make this drive alone.”
My heart does something complicated. “Even though you can barely stand to be in the same room as me?”
His hands flex on the steering wheel. “I can stand it.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
More silence. The radio is off, and the only sound is the hum of tires on asphalt. I dig through my bag, pull out a muffin, pick at it without really eating.
This is going to be a very long drive.
We stop for gas two hours in.
Nate fills the tank while I use the restroom and grab two coffees from the attached convenience store. When I get back to the truck, he’s leaning against the driver’s door, arms crossed, looking like a model for some kind of rugged outdoor magazine.
I hand him a coffee. “Black, right?”
He takes it, surprise flickering across his face. “You remembered.”
“I remember everything, Nate.”
Something shifts in his expression—surprise, maybe, that I’d bother. Then he turns and climbs back into the truck, and the moment is over.
But it’s a start.
Hour four. We’ve made it through Montana and into Idaho. The landscape has flattened out, endless stretches of nothing broken up by the occasional farm.
I’ve tried three times to start a conversation. Each time, Nate has responded with monosyllables and then gone back to staring at the road.
I’m running out of ideas.
Then I remember Ben Wilson.
“Hey,” I say, sitting up straighter. “Do you still talk to Ben much?”
Nate’s grip on the steering wheel loosens slightly. “Sometimes. He’s been busy with the shop.”
“Wilson Auto, right? I saw it when I drove into town.” I smile. “God, Ben always cracked me up. Remember how he used to do that impression of Principal Hartley?”
“The one where he’d pretend to fall asleep during his own announcements?” Nate’s mouth twitches. “Yeah. He still does it.”
“Some things never change.” I shift in my seat, angling toward him. “Speaking of Ben—do you remember that time we all tried to tip a cow?”
Nate actually laughs. A short, surprised sound. “Which part? Theo falling in the ditch or Milo screaming like a little girl when the cow moved?”
“Both.” I’m grinning now, the memory flooding back. “God, that was such a disaster. Seven of us out there in the dark—you, me, Theo, Lucas, Ben, River, Milo—and not a single one of us could actually tip a cow.”
“Because you can’t tip a cow. They don’t sleep standing up.”
“We didn’t know that! We were sixteen!” I pull my legs up onto the seat, getting comfortable. “But here’s the thing. After I left, Ben apparently told everyone he went back and did it himself. Tipped a cow solo. Is that true?”
Nate’s quiet for a beat.
“No way.” I stare at him. “He actually did it?”
“He tried.”
“And?”
“Ended up face-first in a pile of manure.” Nate’s mouth is twitching.
I burst out laughing. “Oh my god. I never heard about that part. He just told everyone he succeeded!”
“That’s Ben.”
“But wait—” I narrow my eyes. “You said he tried. Not that he went alone. How would you know he ended up in manure unless...”
Nate’s ears are turning red.
“Nate Thorn.” I’m full-on staring at him now. “Were you there?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Your ears are red! You’re a terrible liar!”
“I’m an excellent liar. I’m a deputy.”
“Deputies are supposed to uphold the law, not participate in cow-tipping!”
“Allegedly participate.” He’s fighting a smile now, the corners of his mouth trembling with the effort of staying serious. “And it was before I was a deputy.”
“I knew it. All those years Ben bragged about being the only person to ever tip a cow solo, and you were there the whole time.” I wipe tears from my eyes. “Wait until I tell the others.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I absolutely would. River and Milo are going to lose their minds.”
He glances at me, and there’s something warm in his eyes that makes my breath catch.
“I missed this,” I say, before I can stop myself.
The warmth fades. Not all the way, but enough that I want to kick myself for ruining the moment.
“Cara...”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just—” I take a breath. “It’s nice. Talking to you. Like we used to.”