Chapter 9 Tessa #2
“I had it under control,” I mutter.
“You were stuck in a snowbank for an hour.”
“I was formulating a plan.”
“What plan?”
“I was still working on it.”
He doesn’t respond, but I swear I feel his chest shake. Like he’s laughing. Silently, the way Elijah does everything.
I close my eyes and let myself lean into him. Just for a second. Just because I’m cold.
He’s so warm. His arms are like bands of iron around me, steady and sure, and he carries me like I weigh nothing. Which is ridiculous because I am not a small woman, but apparently Elijah Smith could carry me up a mountain without breaking a sweat.
His heartbeat is steady against my cheek. Slow and strong. Annoyingly comforting.
“Switch.”
Ben’s voice cuts through the howl of the wind. I feel Elijah slow, then stop.
“I’ve got her.” Ben’s arms are reaching for me, and then I’m being transferred from one alpha to another.
The shift makes my head spin. New scent, new warmth, new heartbeat under my cheek. Leather and musk and something woodsy.
“Hey, trouble.” His voice is lighter than Elijah’s, but I can feel the tension in his arms. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
He laughs, short and sharp. “Yeah, you picked a great night for a drive.”
“The meeting ran late.”
“Course it did. Because Tessa Lang doesn’t leave until every i is dotted and every t is crossed.”
“That’s called being professional.”
“That’s called being a workaholic.”
I should be offended. But he’s not wrong.
“You came,” I say instead. “All three of you. You walked through a blizzard.”
“You called.” He says it like it’s simple. Like there was never any question.
Something cracks open in my chest. Something I’ve been keeping locked up tight for a very long time.
“Ben.”
“Yeah?”
“About the auction—”
He groans, loud and dramatic. “Are you serious right now?”
“You’re a captive audience. You literally cannot run away.”
“I could drop you in a snowdrift.”
“You won’t.”
“I might. Try me.”
“You won’t,” I repeat. “Because despite all your jokes and your avoidance tactics, you’re actually a good person who cares about people. Even annoying event planners who won’t stop asking you to do things.”
He’s quiet for a second. When he speaks again, his voice is rougher.
“You’re not annoying.”
“I’m extremely annoying. I’ve been told.”
“By who?”
“Pretty much everyone I’ve ever met.”
“They’re wrong.” His arms tighten around me. “You’re persistent. There’s a difference.”
The wind howls around us. Snow stings my cheeks. But somehow, with Ben’s arms around me, it doesn’t feel as cold.
“Why won’t you do it?” I ask. “The auction. Really.”
“Tessa—”
“I’m not asking as the event planner. I’m asking as...” I don’t know how to finish that sentence. As what?
“As what?” he asks.
“As someone who’s been wearing your jacket for a week because it smells like you and I didn’t want to give it back.”
He stumbles. Actually stumbles.
“You’ve been wearing it?”
“It was comforting. When I was stressed.” God, why am I admitting this? “Which is ridiculous because you drive me crazy and you won’t answer my calls and you literally ran out the back door of Millie’s to avoid me—”
“I didn’t run. I walked quickly.”
“You knocked over a busboy.”
“He was in my way.”
“Ben.”
“The auction doesn’t matter,” he says abruptly.
“It matters to me.”
“No, I mean—” He takes a breath. “It doesn’t matter if I’m in it or not. You’ll raise plenty of money without me.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got right now.”
I want to push. I want to demand he tell me the truth, the real reason behind all the jokes and evasions.
But I’m so tired. And his arms are so warm. And he came for me. In this storm. For me.
“Fine,” I murmur. “But this conversation isn’t over.”
“Never thought it was.”
“My turn.”
Milo appears out of the snow, grinning despite the ice crusting his eyebrows.
“Hand her over, Wilson.”
The transfer is smoother this time. I’m getting used to being passed between alphas like a very cold, very grumpy package.
Milo’s scent wraps around me. Dark chocolate and amber, rich and warm. Sweet and inviting and somehow exactly what I needed.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He settles me against his chest. “How you holding up?”
“I’ve been better.”
“Yeah, I imagine.” He starts walking, making it look effortless. “For what it’s worth, this is the most exciting Saturday night I’ve had in months.”
“Happy to provide entertainment.”
“See, that’s what I like about you. Even half-frozen, you’ve got jokes.”
“I learned from the best. Ben’s been cracking them all night.”
“Ben cracks jokes to avoid feelings. You crack them because you’re actually funny.” He grins down at me. “Don’t tell him I said that.”
I almost smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
We walk in silence for a moment. The rope tugs between us and the others, keeping us connected. Through the snow I can just barely make out Ben and Elijah’s shapes ahead of us.
“You tried to dig your car out,” Milo says. “With your bare hands.”
“I noticed you all noticed that.”
“Elijah noticed first. He doesn’t miss much.” His voice softens. “Your hands are a mess, Tessa.”
“They’re fine.”
“They’re bleeding.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“That’s not the flex you think it is.”
He’s right. God, he’s always right.
“I didn’t want to call for help,” I admit. “I sat in that car for almost an hour trying to figure out how to fix it myself.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know—”
“I know you, sweetheart.” His arms tighten around me. “I know you’d rather freeze to death than admit you need someone. It’s one of your worst qualities.”
“Thanks.”
“But you called anyway. You asked for help. That’s huge for you.”
I think about what he said at the bar. Let someone help once in a while, Tessa. You might like it.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice. You could’ve kept sitting there until the snow buried you. You could’ve tried to walk yourself and gotten lost in the storm.” He ducks his head, his breath warm against my temple. “But you didn’t. You called. You let us come get you. You let us carry you.”
“Under protest.”
“Still counts.”
The wind howls. The snow swirls. But Milo’s arms are steady and strong.
“Why did you come?” I ask. “All three of you. You could’ve just called search and rescue.”
“Search and rescue would’ve taken an hour to get there. You didn’t have an hour.”
“But walking through a blizzard—”
“You needed help.” He says it simply. “You called. We came. That’s what you do for people you care about.”
People you care about.
I don’t know what to say to that. So I don’t say anything.
“There it is,” Ben calls from somewhere ahead. “Porch light.”
Thank god.
The cabin appears out of the white like something from a dream. Warm light glowing in the windows. Smoke curling from the chimney.
“Home sweet home,” Milo murmurs.
The door swings open and then we’re inside, all of us, stumbling through in a rush of cold air and stomping snow. The warmth hits me like a wall and I make a sound that’s embarrassingly close to a whimper.
“Get her by the fire,” Elijah says, already moving.
Milo carries me across the room and sets me down on the couch in front of a crackling fireplace. The heat is immediate, glorious, and I have to bite back another embarrassing noise.
“Blankets.” Ben’s draping something heavy around my shoulders. Then another layer. Then another.
“I’ll make something hot.” Milo heads for the kitchen.
Elijah crouches in front of me, taking my hands in his. His thumbs brush carefully over my raw, cracked skin.
“These need to be cleaned,” he says quietly.
“They’re fine—”
“Tessa.”
“Fine. Okay. Clean them.” I’m too tired to argue. That’s the only reason.
Ben drops onto the couch beside me, close enough that our shoulders touch. He doesn’t say anything. Just sits there, solid and warm, while Elijah examines my hands with careful fingers.
From the kitchen comes the sound of Milo moving around, cabinets opening and closing.
Three alphas. All of them here. All of them fussing over me like I’m made of glass.
I should hate this. I keep waiting to hate this. I’m Tessa Lang. I don’t need people hovering. I don’t need to be taken care of.
But I don’t hate it. That’s the terrifying part.
No one’s ever... I’ve never had people like this. People who show up. People who walk through a blizzard because I called. Foster families came and went. Social workers rotated out. Everyone in my life has always had one foot out the door, and I learned early not to need anyone too much.
And now there’s three alphas in this cabin who dropped everything to come get me, and I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know how to let people take care of me. I don’t know how to have walls that aren’t ten feet thick.
But I’m exhausted. And warm for the first time in hours. And it’s getting harder and harder to remember why I built those walls in the first place.
“My car,” I say suddenly. “I left it on the road. Someone could hit it.”
“No one’s driving in this storm,” Ben says. “It’ll be fine until morning.”
“But—”
“Tessa. It’s fine.”
Right. Okay. The car is fine. Everything is fine.
“The auction,” I try instead. “I have vendor calls tomorrow. And the seating chart still needs—”
“You’re not working tomorrow.” Milo’s back, pressing a mug of something hot into my hands. “You’re resting.”
“I don’t need to rest. I need to—”
“Rest,” all three of them say at once.
I blink at them. Then at my mug. Then back at them.
“This is ganging up,” I inform them. “I don’t appreciate being ganged up on.”
“Noted,” Ben says. “Rest anyway.”
I take a sip of whatever Milo made. Hot chocolate. It’s good. I hate that it’s good.
“Thank you,” I mutter into the mug. “For coming to get me. You didn’t have to.”
“Yeah, we did,” Ben says simply.
I don’t know what to say to that. So I don’t say anything. Just drink my hot chocolate and stare at the fire and try not to think about the fact that three alphas trekked through a blizzard for me.
Tomorrow I’ll deal with my car. Tomorrow I’ll figure out how I’m getting home. Tomorrow I’ll call the vendors and finalize the seating chart and get back to my normal, controlled, perfectly organized life.
Tonight, I’m just going to sit here. And be warm. And pretend I don’t notice the way Ben’s shoulder feels pressed against mine, or the gentle way Elijah’s cleaning my hands, or the soft look on Milo’s face as he watches me drink his hot chocolate.
And I’m definitely not going to think about the fact that I’m surrounded by three alpha scents and my body is humming in a way that has nothing to do with the cold.
It doesn’t mean anything.
It can’t mean anything.
I don’t do... this. Whatever this is.
But for tonight, I’m too tired to figure out what this is. So I’m just going to let it happen.
Tomorrow I’ll go back to being Tessa Lang, professional event planner who doesn’t need anyone.
Tonight, I’m just going to be warm.