20. Dean
CHAPTER 20
Dean
All I can think about as I climb into my car after another long day at the club is unwinding with Landon at the bar. It’s been a few days since I had his sister pinned up against my door, and the memory won’t leave me alone. Her scent and Chad’s mixed, the warmth of her skin—it’s all tangled up in my head, and I know I won’t be able to look him in the eye without blurting out something stupid.
Maybe I should tell him. Let him take a swing. It’d be what I deserve for wanting things I can’t have.
I let out a frustrated sigh, gripping the steering wheel tighter as I hit the quiet stretch of road out of town. The night’s falling fast, shadows stretching out long, and my headlights cut through the gloom. That’s when I see him.
Chad.
Walking down the side of the road like he’s got nowhere to be and doesn’t care. The hell is he doing out here?
I slow the car, my gaze narrowing as I pull up alongside him. He’s trudging down the side of the road, kicking rocks as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders. Even from inside the car, I can sense something’s off. There’s an aura around him, like he’s trying to hold everything together, but it’s fraying at the edges.
Rolling down the window, I call out, “Chad!”
He doesn’t stop walking. Doesn’t even look my way.
“Chad, get in the car.”
Still nothing. The wind picks up, rustling through the trees, and I grit my teeth as I pull the car ahead and park it at an angle, blocking his path. I step out, slamming the door behind me, eyes locking on him as he keeps walking like I’m invisible.
“Get in the damn car,” I growl, stepping into his path.
He stops but doesn’t look at me, eyes fixed on the road ahead. His jaw’s tight, and his hands are shoved in his pockets. “Not in the mood, Dean. Just keep driving.”
I take a step closer, crossing my arms. “Not asking, Chad. Get in.”
He lets out a scoff, finally turning to face me, eyes flashing with defiance. “I don’t need your charity. I’m fine.”
“Yeah, you look real fine. Walking in the middle of nowhere, miles from town. You planning on making it there by morning?”
“I’ll make it just fine, it’s not that far,” he snaps, his voice sharper now, that edge of his back. “I don’t need your help.”
“Like hell you don’t,” I growl, stepping right into his space. “You want to be a stubborn asshole? Fine. But you’re getting in this car, one way or another.”
He meets my glare, eyes narrowed, mouth set in a hard line. For a second, I think he’s going to push me out of the way and keep walking. But then he smirks, lifting his chin defiantly. “Or what, Dean? You gonna throw me in the car like some damsel in distress?”
“If that’s what it takes, yeah,” I growl, my patience wearing thin. “I’ll throw your ass in.”
His perfume spikes between us, and my fucking alpha takes notice. My scent match and once upon a time possible mate, alone on the side of the road. Yeah, there’s no fucking way I’m leaving him here. He might have rejected our bond, but my inner alpha will not allow me to drive away and leave him here. Not with the sadness tinging his normally tangy papaya and lime scent.
It makes me want to wrap my arms around him and purr until he’s his brash self again.
His smirk deepens, that challenge flashing in his eyes. “Try me.”
I don’t move for a second, just glaring at him, feeling the tension crackle between us like a live wire. My musk joins the tantalizing mixture of his pheromones attempting to drown me. It makes me want to?—
Before I can finish that thought, I grab his wrist, yanking him toward the car.
Chad stumbles but doesn’t resist, a laugh slipping from his mouth as he jerks his arm back, pulling free. “Easy, tiger,” he says, still smirking but finally heading toward the passenger side. “Didn’t think you cared so much.”
“Get in the damn car, Chad,” I growl again, climbing into the driver’s seat as he throws open the door and slides in beside me.
Once the doors slam shut, I gun the engine, pulling back onto the road. The silence is thick between us, but Chad doesn’t seem fazed, at least he’s pretending he isn’t. He sits back, crossing his arms, eyes flicking out the window like he’s got better places to be.
“So,” he says after a few beats, voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s the rush, Dean? Got somewhere to be?”
I grip the wheel tighter, jaw flexing as I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “Yeah. Away from your smart-ass mouth.” And fucking amazing perfume.
Chad chuckles, leaning back in the seat, as if he owns the damn car. “You missed me. And we both know you like my smart-ass mouth.”
I don’t respond. Can’t. Keeping my eyes locked on the road, I shove down whatever it is that stirs when he says things like that. But the tension in my chest is undeniable. Something about having him here, in such close quarters, makes my pulse thrum in ways I don’t want to acknowledge.
A need. A want. The same one that's been clinging to me since he showed back up, strutting into my life like he belongs in it.
“Where are we headed?” His voice cuts through the thick air between us.
“Town.”
His gaze lingers on me, heat prickling across my skin. I can feel it, his attention, the way my body reacts even more despite my best efforts to ignore it. “Got a hot date?”
“I don’t date.”
“No? Just pin innocent betas against your office door and almost lose all control?”
My head snaps toward him, eyes locking with his. My foot easing off the gas pedal. The smug smile curling his lips tells me everything I need to know—he knows. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows why Lakelyn drove me out of my mind that day. And now, he’s digging, pushing buttons like he always does.
“Or not-so-innocent omegas against chain-link fences? Is that your thing now?” His voice is teasing, low, each word like a spark striking dry tinder inside me. “Seeing how far you can take it before going absolutely feral?”
Each syllable burrows under my skin, heating my blood in ways it shouldn't. My musk escapes before I can stop it, filling the car, heavy and charged. I see the way he inhales, eyes widening, but he doesn’t say a word. My grip on the wheel tightens, knuckles stark white, and for a split second, I’m not sure if I’m about to snap at him or pull over and?—
Damn him.
Chad’s watching me with that same infuriating smile, like he knows exactly the effect he has. I swallow hard, keeping my focus on the road, but everything in me feels coiled, on edge.
I swallow hard, keeping my gaze on the road, though my body feels like a live wire. Every muscle coiled, on edge. “Cat got your tongue?” he taunts, his voice softer now, threading into the tension between us.
“Your taunting is useless,” I say, though my voice sounds colder than I feel. My body betrays me, blood pounding too fast.
For a moment, the car fills with silence, thick and suffocating. Then he sucks in a breath that makes me glance at him, just for a second.
He’s gone pale, staring out the window, eyes fixed on the dark stretch of road illuminated by my headlights. The tension in the car shifts, sharp and brittle.
He lets out a dry, broken laugh. “Useless. Yeah.” His voice cracks, and he nods to himself. “So I’ve been told.” There's a scoff in his throat, but it sounds hollow.
“Stop the car,” he says, voice suddenly tight.
“What?” I glance at him, confused. “Why?”
“Because… if you don’t, I’ll jump.” His voice is strained, a quiet desperation threading through it.
“What the hell, Chad?” My heart slams against my ribs as I hit the brakes, the car screeching to a halt by the side of the road. Gravel crunches beneath the tires, the darkness outside wrapping around us.
Before he can reach for the door handle, I grab him, my hand gripping his arm tightly, yanking him back toward me. “You’re not going anywhere.” The words come out in a growl, rougher than I intended.
He struggles for a heartbeat, defiant as always, but I don’t let go. My arms wrap around him before I can think, pulling him into my chest, holding him tight. The rumble of a deep, instinctual purr rises from my chest, vibrating through him.
Chad freezes. “Let me go,” he mutters, his voice lacking conviction.
But I don’t. My purr grows stronger, filling the silence, and I feel him fight it, fight me. For a moment, he resists, his body trembling with it. But then—slowly—he softens, the fight draining out of him like air leaving a balloon. His hands fist in my shirt, and suddenly he’s clinging to me, clutching me like I’m the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
“Chad…” I whisper, my voice hoarse, as I bury my face in his hair. His scent surrounds me, a mix of something familiar and raw.
He doesn’t respond, just presses himself closer, breathing hard like he’s trying to hold himself together. Like he’s afraid that if he lets go, he’ll shatter.
The only sound is the steady rumble of my purr and his ragged breaths, the night outside closing in around us as I hold him tighter, refusing to let go.
This is what I crave. Him in my arms, needing me the same way I’ve been needing him. More than I want to admit.
I smooth a hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands slip between my fingers. Gently, I press my lips to the top of his head. Soft. Reassuring. I can’t stop the purr rumbling in my chest, vibrating through us both, but I don’t want to. Not now. Not when he needs it.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my words low and rough against his hair. “For what I said. About you… being useless.” The regret clings to my voice. “You’re not, Chad. You never were. Nothing you do is useless.”
For a moment, he stays there, his body still tense against mine, like he’s holding onto the hurt. Then, slowly, I feel him relax—just a little. Like the words are finally sinking in.
He lifts his head, pulling back enough to look at me. His eyes are wide, raw, vulnerable in a way that hits me straight in the gut. There’s something unsaid there, something between us, and I don’t know how long I can keep holding it back.
His gaze drops to my mouth, just for a second, before flicking back up to meet mine. And that’s it. The last thread of restraint snaps.
I don’t fight the urge anymore. I can’t.
Without thinking, I lean in, closing the space between us. My lips brush his, soft at first, tentative. Testing. But the second I feel the warmth of his mouth against mine, I pour everything into it—all the things I’ve kept locked up for so long. The kiss is gentle, careful, but full of every unspoken feeling I’ve tried to ignore. It’s not rushed, not frantic, but something deeper.
Chad freezes for just a heartbeat, caught off guard, before he melts into me, kissing me back. His hands come up, gripping the front of my shirt again, holding on tight, like he’s afraid to let go. Like this is what he’s been needing, too.
I’m not sure how long we kiss. Time seems to blur around the edges, but when we finally part, the car windows are fogged, the air between us thick with heat. Both of us are breathing hard, our chests rising and falling in sync, and the uncertainty in the small space feels almost unbearable. I lean back against my door, trying to catch my breath, my eyes never leaving him.
Chad’s still close, his lips swollen from the kiss, his chest heaving. Every instinct in me screams to reach for him again, to pull him back and feel more of him. But I know—deep down—that’s not what he needs right now. He needs more than just this. Even though the way his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip has my body burning with want, I force myself to stay put.
He glances away, his fingers twitching like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “That was—” he starts, his voice a little unsteady, “unexpected.”
I can’t help but smirk, though there’s a tenderness behind it. “Yeah,” I breathe, still watching him. “You could say that.”
Chad shifts, his gaze skittering around the car, like he’s trying to find something to focus on other than me. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, until finally, I take a breath and break it.
“You’re not useless, Chad,” I say, my voice low but firm. His eyes snap back to mine, startled, and I can see the flicker of doubt in them, the way he still holds onto the hurt. But I won’t let him drown in that. Not now. “Not even close.”
He lets out a shaky laugh, but it’s hollow. “You don’t have to say that?—”
“I’m not just saying it.” I lean forward, closing the space between us again, but I don’t touch him. Not yet. “You matter more than you think, Chad. To me, to Lakelyn... probably more people than you realize.”
Chad swallows hard, his jaw tightening as he stares down at his hands. He’s quiet for a moment, and I can see the battle waging inside him—the doubt, the fear, the stubborn belief that he’s not enough. I reach out, gently tilting his chin up until his eyes meet mine again.
“You matter,” I repeat, my voice soft but insistent. “You’re not useless, Chad. You never were.”
His eyes flicker, something breaking behind them, and for a second, I think he’s going to pull away again. But then he exhales, a shaky breath escaping his lips, and leans into me—just a little, but enough.
“Dean…” His voice cracks, and my chest tightens at the sound of it. But I don’t push. I don’t force him to say more than he’s ready for. Instead, I just sit there, holding his gaze, hoping that somehow, through all the mess, he can see what I see in him.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur. “Whatever you need. I’ve got you.”