Chapter 10 #2
“You say you’re fine approximately forty times a day,” Ben says. “Even when you’re clearly not fine. It’s your default setting.”
“It’s annoying,” Elijah adds.
Tessa stares at him. “Did you just call me annoying?”
“Called your habit annoying. Not you.”
“That’s—” She shakes her head, but there’s no heat in it. “Fine. I’ll change. But only because I’m cold.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Ben disappears down the hall and comes back with a stack of clothes. Grey sweatpants, a black t-shirt, thick wool socks, and a flannel that looks soft enough to sleep in.
She takes them and heads for the bathroom. The door clicks shut, and the three of us just sit there in silence.
Elijah’s staring at his hands. The hands that were just holding hers.
Ben’s staring at the bathroom door.
I’m staring at both of them.
“So,” I say. “We should probably talk about this.”
Ben’s head snaps toward me. “Talk about what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The fact that we all just walked through a blizzard for the same woman? The fact that you haven’t stopped touching her since we got back? The fact that Elijah wrapped her hands like he was handling the Mona Lisa?”
Elijah doesn’t say anything. Just keeps looking at his hands.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Ben says.
“Ben.”
“It’s not—we’re just—” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “She needed help. We helped. That’s it.”
“That’s it,” I repeat flatly. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding her for weeks? Why you literally fled the building when she tried to talk to you? Because you don’t have feelings for her?”
He doesn’t answer.
I look at Elijah. “What about you? You have feelings for her?”
A long pause. Then, low, “Yes.”
“Thank you. Honesty. Refreshing.” I lean back in my chair. “I do too, by the way. In case that wasn’t obvious.”
Before anyone can respond, the bathroom door opens.
Tessa emerges in Ben’s clothes.
My mouth goes dry.
The cabin’s main room is warm now, the fire casting long shadows across the worn leather couch and the shelves crammed with paperbacks and fishing gear.
Ben’s place is comfortable in that lived-in way—mismatched furniture, a quilt thrown over the armchair, photos of his family on the mantel.
It should feel cluttered. Instead it just feels like home.
And Tessa, standing in the doorway in clothes three sizes too big, looks like she belongs here.
The sweatpants are too long, pooling around her feet. The t-shirt hangs off one shoulder, exposing her collarbone and the delicate line of her neck. The flannel’s wrapped around her like a robe, sleeves dangling past her fingertips.
She looks soft. Rumpled. Completely unlike the sharp-edged event planner I’m used to.
And her scent—
Fuck.
She’s drenched in Ben. His leather-and-musk scent is all over her, mixed with her lavender, and every alpha instinct I have snaps to attention. My hands curl into fists. My jaw tightens. A growl builds in my throat that I have to physically swallow down.
Mine. The thought hits me like a freight train. Should be mine. Should be MY scent on her skin, MY clothes on her body—
I force myself to breathe. Slow. Controlled.
It’s not jealousy, exactly. Or not just jealousy.
It’s want. Raw and primal and completely out of my control.
I want to cross the room and pull her against me.
Want to bury my face in her neck and breathe her in.
Want to mark her until my scent is so tangled with hers that no one can tell where she ends and I begin.
I glance at Ben and Elijah. They’re both staring at her with the same barely-contained hunger. Ben’s nostrils are flared. Elijah’s gone completely still, the way he does when he’s holding himself back.
We’re so screwed.
“Better?” I manage, and I’m proud that my voice comes out steady.
“Warmer.” She pads back to the couch in her borrowed socks and curls up in the corner, pulling the blanket back over her lap. “Still ridiculous. I look like I’m wearing a tent.”
“A very cozy tent,” Ben says, and she throws a pillow at him.
He catches it, grinning, and for a second it’s just... nice. Normal. Four people hanging out on a Saturday night while a storm rages outside.
The game plays on. Elijah adds another log to the fire. Ben gets everyone more drinks—hot chocolate for Tessa, beers for the rest of us—and we settle into a comfortable silence.
Looking at Tessa right now, curled up on Ben’s couch in borrowed clothes with firelight painting her face gold, I think maybe she’s the loneliest person I know. And she has no idea.
The game drones on. Someone scores. Neither team seems particularly invested, which suits the mood. Outside, the storm continues its assault on the cabin, wind rattling the windows, snow piling up against the doors.
Her eyes are getting heavy. I can see her fighting it, blinking hard every few minutes, forcing herself to stay awake. But the warmth and the food and the exhaustion are winning.
Her scent keeps drifting toward me. Warmer every time. Sweeter. That honey-richness growing stronger, and my body is responding whether I want it to or not. Every inhale makes my skin prickle with awareness. Makes me want to move closer.
“You can sleep,” I tell her. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m fine.” She stifles another yawn. “Just resting my eyes.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I am.”
“Sure. Just like you weren’t hungry.”
She doesn’t respond. Her eyes have drifted closed, her breathing evening out. Five minutes later, her head is drooping toward Ben’s shoulder. He shifts, adjusting so she can lean against him more comfortably, and she burrows closer with a sleepy hum.
My throat tightens.
Ben catches my eye over her head. Then Elijah’s. There’s a question there, and an answer, and an understanding that passes between us without a single word.
None of us are backing down from this. Whatever this is.
Three alphas, one omega. Watching her drift off against Ben’s shoulder, this doesn’t feel like just another pack forming. It feels like something I’ve been waiting for without knowing it.
The lights flicker.
We all freeze, looking up at the ceiling like we can will the power to stay on. It steadies for a moment, then flickers again.
“Storm’s probably knocking out lines,” Ben says, keeping his voice low. “Might lose power tonight.”
“You got candles?” I ask.
“Cabinet above the fridge. And there’s more firewood on the back porch—covered, should still be dry.”
“I’ll get the wood,” Elijah says, already standing.
Ben looks down at Tessa, then at me. “I should show him where—she okay with you for a minute?”
“Go.” I wave him off. “I’ve got her.”
Carefully, so carefully, Ben shifts Tessa off his shoulder and onto the couch cushions. She murmurs a protest but doesn’t wake, just curls into the warm spot he left behind.
They head off—Ben and Elijah to the back porch, grabbing candles on the way. The cabin goes quiet except for the crackle of the fire and the muted sound of the game.
I watch her sleep.
Her face is relaxed. No tension around her eyes. No tight set to her jaw. Just peaceful.
Her scent fills the space Ben left behind. Stronger now. That warm sweetness wrapping around me like a physical thing, sinking into my skin, making my blood run hot. Every alpha instinct I have is humming with awareness. With want.
She stirs. Eyes fluttering, not fully awake, just that half-conscious drift.
“Milo?” Her voice is thick with sleep.
“I’m here.”
“Where’s...” She blinks slowly, looking around. “Where’d everyone go?”
“Getting firewood. Power might go out.” I slide off the armchair and settle on the floor beside the couch, close enough that I can see the firelight reflected in her half-open eyes. “They’ll be back in a minute.”
“Oh.” She blinks slowly, watching me. “Why are you staring at me?”
Because you’re beautiful. Because watching you sleep is doing things to me I can’t explain. Because I want to know what you’d look like in my bed, hair spread across my pillow, wearing nothing but my scent.
“Just making sure you’re still breathing,” I say instead. “You scared us tonight.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then, barely above a whisper, “I scared myself.”
“Hey.” I reach out, brush a strand of hair from her face. She doesn’t flinch away. Doesn’t tense up. Just watches me with those tired eyes. “You’re safe now. Okay? Whatever happens, you’re safe.”
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Let people take care of me.” Her voice cracks. “I’ve never... no one’s ever...”
She trails off. But I hear what she’s not saying. I hear twenty-five years of doing everything alone, of being let down, of learning that the only person you can count on is yourself.
“Then let us teach you,” I say. “You don’t have to figure it out alone.”
She blinks at me. Once. Twice. And then, barely audible, “Okay.”
My heart slams against my ribs.
“Tessa?”
“Mm?”
“When this storm’s over, I want to take you on a date.”
Her eyes open wider. More awake now. “What?”
“A real date. Dinner. Maybe that Italian place in Pine Valley you’re always talking about.”
“You...” She’s staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You flirt with everyone, Milo.”
“I do.” No point denying it. “But not like I flirt with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I take a breath. Might as well go all in.
“It means I flirt with other people because it’s fun.
I flirt with you because I can’t help it.
” I hold her gaze, letting her see I mean every word.
“You walk into a room and I forget what I was saying. You laugh and I want to spend the rest of my life figuring out how to make you do it again. I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, Tessa.
I just figured you weren’t interested. You’ve got your walls up so high I wasn’t sure anyone could get through. ”
She goes still. I can see her processing, see the wheels turning behind those tired eyes.
“You don’t have to say anything back,” I add. “I just needed you to know. In case you thought I was just... messing around.”