Chapter 10 #3
A long pause. Then, barely a breath, “I didn’t know.”
“Now you do.”
She doesn’t say anything else. But her hand finds mine under the blanket and squeezes once.
That squeeze hits me harder than a kiss would have. My whole body goes tight with it. With the trust in that small gesture. With everything it means.
I lean in and press my lips to her forehead. Soft. Gentle. The kind of kiss that says I’ve got you without asking for anything in return.
When I pull back, her eyes are already closing again. But there’s a small smile on her lips.
The back door opens and closes. Footsteps, then Ben and Elijah appear with arms full of firewood and candles. They stop when they see me on the floor beside her, her hand still loosely holding mine, that small smile still lingering.
Ben looks at me. Then at her. Then back at me.
I wait for the jealousy. The territorial snarl. The back off, she’s mine that should be tearing up my throat.
It doesn’t come.
And from the look on Ben’s face, on Elijah’s, it’s not coming from them either.
Just... rightness. Like puzzle pieces clicking into place.
An hour later, Tessa’s fully asleep. Curled into the couch cushions with her face pressed into the pillow Ben tucked under her head. The fire’s burned down to embers, and outside the storm is still howling, though maybe a little less violently than before.
Ben, Elijah, and I are sitting at the kitchen table, voices low. The fire’s the only light now, casting flickering shadows across the walls.
“So.” I take a sip of my beer. “We should probably talk about this.”
Ben’s jaw tightens. “Talk about what?”
“About the fact that we’re all falling for the same woman.” No point dancing around it. “And we need to figure out what we’re doing about it.”
Elijah’s turning his beer bottle in slow circles. He does that—goes internal when he’s processing. I’ve learned to wait him out.
“She’s been alone a long time,” he says finally. “You can see it. The way she doesn’t know how to let people help. The way she’s surprised when someone shows up for her.”
“Foster kid,” Ben says, voice rough. “She mentioned it once. Aged out of the system at eighteen. No family.”
That lands like a punch to the gut. No wonder she keeps everyone at arm’s length. No wonder she’s built walls so high you’d need climbing gear to get over them.
“So we don’t push,” I say. “We let her set the pace. All three of us.”
Ben looks at me. “You’re serious about this? A pack?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He doesn’t answer, but I can see him thinking. Packs form all the time in Honeyridge. It’s not complicated. What’s complicated is the three of us—different as we are—figuring out how to do this together.
“Can you work with us?” I ask Elijah.
He considers it. Really considers it, the way Elijah does everything—carefully, thoroughly.
“Yes,” he says finally. “If it’s for her.”
I look at Ben. “What about you?”
He’s silent for a long moment. Then he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.
“I’ve been fighting this for months,” he admits. “Avoiding her because I didn’t want to feel this way. Didn’t want to want something and not know if I could have it.”
“So stop fighting it.”
The fire pops. The wind howls. Tessa shifts in her sleep, and all three of us turn to look at her like we’re tied to her by invisible strings.
“Okay,” Ben says, voice low. “Okay. We do this together.”
It’s not a plan. It’s not a promise. But it’s a start.
Elijah nods once. I raise my beer in a silent toast.
Whatever comes next, we’re in it together.
We move back to the living room. The fire’s burned down to embers now, casting more shadow than light.
“She should sleep in a real bed,” Elijah says, standing. “The couch isn’t comfortable enough.”
Tessa stirs at our voices, blinking awake. “I can just... there’s a spare room, right? I don’t want to take anyone’s bed.”
Ben goes very still. “The spare room’s not—it’s full of junk. Storage stuff. You can’t sleep in there.”
I cough to cover my laugh. Elijah suddenly finds something fascinating about the ceiling.
“Junk,” I repeat, voice carefully neutral. “Right. All that... junk.”
Ben shoots me a look that promises death. I grin back at him, because I remember exactly what’s in that spare room. Helped carry it in myself. A custom nesting bench built by the man currently studying the ceiling like it holds the secrets of the universe.
Junk. Sure.
“You’ll take my room,” Ben says firmly to Tessa. “I’ll take the couch.”
She looks like she wants to argue, but her eyes are already drifting closed again. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” His voice is softer now. “Go back to sleep.”
She does. Out like a light, burrowed into the couch cushions.
“I call the pullout,” I say. “Elijah, you want the armchair or the floor?”
“Floor’s fine. I’ll grab blankets.”
Ben moves to the couch and slides one arm under Tessa’s knees, the other behind her back. She murmurs against his neck but doesn’t wake. Just turns her face into his shirt, one hand fisting in the fabric.
Ben’s face does something complicated. Wonder and fear and want, all tangled together.
He carries her down the hall, and I watch them go.
Her scent lingers in the room. Warmer than before. Sweeter. Mixed with all of ours now—leather and musk and cedarwood and honey and dark chocolate—layered and tangled together.
Tomorrow we figure out the car, the roads, whatever this is between us.
Tonight, there’s a storm outside and a fire burning low and an omega sleeping safely down the hall. Tonight, that’s enough.
Elijah comes back with blankets. We make up the pullout couch, toss pillows on the floor, and settle in.
“Think she’ll remember tonight?” he asks. “When she wakes up?”
I think about the way she reached for my hand. The small smile she gave me before she fell asleep.
“Yeah. I think she will.”
The cabin creaks. The wind howls. Somewhere down the hall, a door clicks shut.
I close my eyes.
For the first time in a long time, I fall asleep smiling.