Cara
Three weeks into living at the farmhouse, and I still wake up smiling.
This morning, Theo’s chest is pressed against my back, his arm heavy around my waist. Lucas is curled on my other side, one hand tangled in my hair even in sleep. And Nate—Nate is awake, watching me from the edge of the nest with those gray eyes that still make my breath catch.
“Morning,” I murmur.
He doesn’t say anything. Just leans in and kisses my forehead, soft and sweet, before sliding out of bed.
“What time is it?” Theo mumbles against my shoulder.
“Seven.”
“Too early.” His arm tightens around me. “Five more minutes.”
“You said that twenty minutes ago.”
“Five more minutes after that.”
Lucas stirs, his hand flexing in my hair. “Some of us have patients.”
“Some of us have a grandmother coming for dinner and a meal to prepare,” Theo counters. “Which means I need to go to the store. Which means I need coffee. Which means—”
“Five more minutes,” I finish for him.
“Exactly.”
From somewhere in the house, I hear the coffee maker start. Nate, already one step ahead. The smell reaches us a minute later—rich and dark, mixing with the cedar and bergamot and pine that’s seeped into every surface of this farmhouse.
Pack scent. Our scent.
I still can’t believe this is my life.
By eight, we’re all in the kitchen, and Mr. Darcy is judging us from his perch on the windowsill.
During my heat, Nate was the only one who could slip away to feed him.
Mr. Darcy wouldn’t let Theo or Lucas anywhere near his food bowl, but he’d wind around Nate’s ankles and purr while Nate filled the dish.
Now he’s claimed the sunniest spot in the farmhouse and acts like Nate is his personal property.
“He’s staring at me again,” Nate says, but there’s no real complaint in it. He reaches over to scratch behind Mr. Darcy’s ears, and the cat’s purr kicks up a notch.
“He loves you,” I tell him. “It’s disgusting.”
Nate just shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“He still won’t let me pet him,” Lucas observes, looking up from his tablet. “Hisses every time I try. But with Nate? Nothing. Just purring.”
“Traitor cat,” Theo calls from the stove, where he’s making eggs. “I’m the one who bought him the fancy food, and he acts like I’m a stranger.”
“Maybe he can sense your chaotic energy,” I offer.
“I don’t have chaotic energy. I have enthusiastic energy.”
“You brought home four new plants last week. We’re running out of windowsills.”
“Plants need homes, Cara.”
“That’s called a problem,” Lucas says mildly.
Through the bond, I feel all three of them—Theo’s bright amusement, Lucas’s quiet contentment, Nate’s steady warmth.
After breakfast, I need to go into town for supplies. Theo’s making his grandmother’s roast chicken recipe for Grandma Eileen, and apparently we’re missing half the ingredients.
“I can go,” Lucas offers, but he’s already checking his watch. Morning clinic starts in forty minutes.
“I’ve got it.” I grab my keys from the hook by the door—my keys, on a hook that Theo installed specifically for me. “I need to stop by the bakery anyway. Maeve’s been texting me about the book club.”
“She wants you to do a signing,” Theo says, sliding a grocery list across the counter. “She’s been planning it for weeks.”
“I know. She’s very persistent.”
“Maeve Bennett has never taken no for an answer in her entire life.” Theo kisses my cheek as I pass. “Get the good rosemary. The stuff in the back, not the wilted bunches up front.”
“I know how to buy rosemary.”
“You bought cilantro last time.”
“They look the same!”
“They absolutely do not.”
I’m still arguing with him when I walk out the door, and I can hear Nate’s quiet laugh behind me.
This. This is what I missed for ten years. This easy, comfortable bickering. This feeling of belonging somewhere, to someone, to someones.
I almost ruined it. Almost let fear keep me running forever.
Thank god for manipulative grandmothers and charity auctions and three alphas who refused to let me go.
The Honey Crumb is busy when I walk in, which means half the town sees me enter.
It’s the first time I’ve been in here since the bonding—since the heat, since everything. I’ve been too wrapped up in my alphas and the farmhouse and figuring out this new life to venture into town much. But now people are waving, smiling, a few calling out greetings.
Mrs. Patterson beams at me from her usual spot by the window.
“Cara!” Maeve’s voice cuts through the murmur, warm and knowing. “There you are. I was starting to think you’d forgotten about us.”
“Never.” I make my way to the counter. “Just been... settling in.”
“I’ll bet you have.” Maeve’s eyes sparkle with amusement. She’s wearing her usual floral apron, silver hair pinned back, looking exactly like the town matriarch she is. “The usual?”
“Please.”
She starts making my vanilla latte with cinnamon—she remembered, after all these years—and leans closer. “Good to see you out and about. I was starting to think those boys were keeping you locked up at the farmhouse.”
“We’ve been... busy.” My cheeks warm.
“I’ll bet.” Maeve chuckles. She adds an extra shot of espresso without being asked.
“Theo’s been in here every other day, buying enough groceries to feed an army.
Lucas stopped by for his usual coffee last week and couldn’t stop smiling.
And Nate—” She pauses, something soft crossing her face.
“I’ve never seen that boy look so peaceful. ”
My throat goes tight. “He’s... yeah. He’s good.”
“They all are.” Maeve slides the cup across the counter. “I’m happy for you, Cara. Truly. We all are.”
“Thanks, Maeve.”
“And between us?” She leans in closer, lowering her voice. “The whole town’s been taking bets on when you’d come to your senses. I made a killing.”
“You bet on my love life?”
“I bet on you being smart enough to recognize a good thing when you saw it.” She winks. “Different thing entirely. Now, tell your grandmother I expect her at book club Tuesday. We’re discussing your latest, and she owes me twenty dollars from poker.”
Before I can respond, the bell over the door chimes and Bea walks in.
“Cara!” She spots me immediately, her face breaking into a grin. “Finally dragged yourself out of the farmhouse, huh?” She tilts her head, studying my neck. “Bond marks looking good on you. About damn time.”
“Bea—”
“Don’t ‘Bea’ me. Seth’s told me stories about Nate being miserable at the station for years.
Years, Cara.” She waves a hand dramatically.
“Now they’re all smiles and Theo keeps bringing extra vegetables to the bar because he ‘has too many’ and Nate actually said hello to me last week. Hello. Voluntarily.”
“That does sound serious.”
“It’s a miracle is what it is.” She pulls me into a hug. “I’m happy for you. Really. You deserve this.”
“Thanks, Bea.”
“Now.” She pulls back, eyes sparkling. “Tell me everything. How’s the farmhouse? Is Lucas still insufferably organized? Does Theo really talk to his plants?”
Maeve chuckles from behind the counter. “I’ll make you a decaf, Bea. This sounds like it’s going to take a while.”
I’m trying to formulate an escape plan when Mrs. Patterson materializes at my elbow.
“Cara.” She pats my arm warmly. “I just have to say—we’re all so happy for you. When I saw those three boys at your grandmother’s house all those years, shoveling her driveway and tending her garden, I always thought—well.” She sighs fondly. “I always hoped.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Patterson.”
“And the books!” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “I’ve been dying to ask—the scene in book two, with the hayloft? Was that based on something that actually happened back in high school, or—”
“I should really get going.” I take a large gulp of coffee. “Lots of errands. Nice seeing you both!”
I escape before she can finish that sentence, but I hear their combined sighs of disappointment behind me.
Some things are better left to the imagination.
The grocery store is less eventful, thank god. I find Theo’s rosemary, the good stuff, in the back. Grab the other items on his list, and manage to check out with only three people commenting on how nice it is to see me settling down.
By the time I get home, Theo’s already commandeered the kitchen. He’s got music playing—something soft and acoustic—and he’s humming along while he preps vegetables.
“Got everything?” he asks without turning around.
“Including the rosemary that is definitely rosemary and not cilantro.” I set the bags on the counter. “The town is very invested in our relationship, by the way. Mrs. Patterson asked about the hayloft scene.”
Theo chokes on a laugh. “Which hayloft scene?”
“Book two.”
“Ah.” His ears go pink. “The one with the—”
“Yep.”
“That was a good scene.”
“It was based on something that actually happened, Theo.”
“I know.” He grins over his shoulder. “I was there.”
I throw a dish towel at him, and he catches it without looking, still grinning.
Through the bond, I feel his joy. I’m smiling back before I can stop myself.
“Grandma’s coming at six,” I say, starting to unpack the groceries. “She texted to confirm. Also to remind me that she expects grandchildren within the decade.”
“She’s ambitious.”
“She’s Eileen Donovan. Ambition is her love language.”
Theo laughs.
Grandma arrives at six on the dot, because she’s never been late to anything in her seventy-five years.
She’s wearing her best cardigan—the blue one she saves for special occasions—and carrying a pie that smells like cinnamon and apples. Her white hair is pinned up in its usual messy bun, and her dark eyes are sharp as ever as she takes in the farmhouse.
“Well.” She hands me the pie and steps inside, looking around. “Still impressed every time I come here. Those boys did good work on this place.”
“I’ll let Nate know you said so. Again.”
“He can stand to hear it twice.” She pats my cheek, the same way she’s been doing since I was five years old. “You look good, sweetheart. Rested. Happy.”
“I am.”