Epilogue #2
Then he brings me fries. Extra crispy, extra salt, extra everything.
And I pay for them with kisses.
Ben settles onto the porch swing and tugs me down beside him, one arm around my shoulders, his other hand finding my belly. He can never stop touching them. None of them can.
“You remember the auction?” he asks, out of nowhere.
“You mean the night you spent twelve hundred dollars buying your own packmates because you couldn’t handle the thought of anyone else winning a date with us?”
“That’s the one.”
I snort. “I remember. I was terrified up on that stage. Every time Maeve raised her paddle—driving up the price just to watch you sweat—I thought you were going to have a heart attack.”
“That woman is a menace.” But he’s grinning. “Worth every penny, though. Even if she did make me work for it.”
“Six minutes and forty-two seconds,” I remind him. “Bea timed it.”
“And she still hasn’t let me live it down.”
“She never will.”
“Nope.” But he’s smiling. “Worth every penny, though.”
Elijah appears from his workshop as the light goes golden, sawdust in his hair and quiet satisfaction in his scent. He joins us without a word, settling on my other side, his hand covering mine on my belly. Through the bond, I feel his contentment layer over Ben’s—steady and warm and home.
Three bond marks. Two babies. One pack.
And me, in the middle of all of it. Finally where I’m supposed to be.
The Barn Bar is packed when we walk in—Friday night, half of Honeyridge crowded around tables, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air.
Milo’s behind the counter, shaking a cocktail with more flair than strictly necessary. His eyes find mine the second we come through the door. They always do.
Through the bond, I feel his attention sharpen. His want, banked but present, curling warm beneath his ribs.
“There’s my girl.” He sets down the shaker and reaches for a glass. “Sparkling water with lime?”
“You know me so well.”
“I know you completely.” He slides the drink across the bar, then leans forward to kiss me.
Right there, in front of everyone, his hand curling around the back of my neck to angle my mouth against his.
When he pulls back, his thumb traces my bond marks and he purrs—low and private, just for me. “Missed you today.”
“You saw me this morning.”
“Too long.” His dark chocolate and amber scent wraps around me, mixing with Elijah’s cedarwood and honey and Ben’s leather and musk until I’m drowning in pack. “How are my babies?”
“Kicking up a storm. I think they know their dad makes the best fries in town.”
His grin goes soft. “Damn right I do.”
Ben and Elijah take their usual seats on either side of me. Milo brings their beers without asking, then slides a basket of fries in front of me with a wink.
“On the house. For my favorite customer.”
“I don’t pay anyway.”
“Exactly.” He leans across the bar again. “My favorite kind of customer.”
I eat the fries. They’re perfect—crispy and golden and exactly the right amount of salt. When I’m halfway through the basket, Milo catches my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my knuckles.
“Payment received,” he says.
“That’s not enough for the whole basket.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to come back tomorrow.” His eyes are warm. “What a tragedy.”
Ben snorts. Elijah’s lips twitch.
This is my life now. Fries and kisses and alphas who look at me like I hung the moon, even when I’m huge and tired and covered in crumbs.
The door opens and Bea bursts in, River and Grayson and Seth trailing behind her. She spots me immediately and makes a beeline for our group.
“Tessa! Look at you!” She slides onto the stool next to Ben and steals one of my fries. “You’re glowing. Seriously. Pregnancy looks amazing on you.”
“Pregnancy looks exhausting on me, but thanks.”
“Mom’s already planning the baby shower,” she tells Ben. “Garden party theme. She called me four times today about centerpieces.”
“She cried for three hours when we told her about the twins,” Ben says. “Dad had to hide her phone.”
“She’s excited.”
“She’s unhinged.” But he’s smiling.
Bea leans closer to me, dropping her voice. “Seriously, though. How are you feeling? Not just the pregnancy stuff. All of it.”
I consider the question. My back aches. My feet are swollen. I haven’t seen my toes in weeks, and I have to pee every twenty minutes.
But.
I’m sitting in a bar I love, in a town that raised me, surrounded by three alphas who would burn down the world for me. Their bond marks on my neck. Their babies in my belly. Their scents wrapped around me like armor.
Six months ago, I stood on a stage at a bachelor auction, terrified someone would outbid Ben for the men I couldn’t admit I wanted. Six months ago, I was drowning in spreadsheets and schedules, convinced I could plan my way out of needing anyone.
Then a blizzard hit. And they found me. And nothing went according to plan.
Thank god.
“Happy,” I tell Bea. “Really, genuinely happy.”
Through the bond, I feel all three of them respond—Ben’s bright satisfaction, Elijah’s steady warmth, Milo’s fierce tenderness. Their emotions layer over mine until I can’t tell where I end and they begin.
Pack.
Family.
Home.
Later, when the bar closes down, Milo will count out his register and hang up his apron and join us in the truck. We’ll drive home through the dark Montana night, stars scattered across the sky, his hand warm on my thigh while Ben makes jokes and Elijah pretends to be annoyed.
We’ll walk into our house—cedarwood and leather and dark chocolate and lavender, four scents tangled together until they’re one—and argue about whose turn it is to make tea.
Milo will win, because Milo always wins. He’ll bring me chamomile while Ben rubs my feet and Elijah reads in his chair, looking up every few pages just to make sure we’re all still there.
And eventually, we’ll pile into the nest I’ve built in our bedroom—blankets soft against skin, pillows forming walls, their stolen clothing woven through the layers. They’ll arrange themselves around me, protective and tender, purring low and content as they settle.
Ben will make a joke about me leaving my suppressants in the car—the mistake that started everything, the one he thanks me for at least once a week.
Milo will laugh.
Elijah will tell them both to shut up so I can sleep.
And I will. Safe and warm and theirs.
This is my ending. The one I never planned for. The one that happened anyway—messy and chaotic and absolutely perfect.
Or maybe it’s not an ending at all.
Maybe it’s just the beginning.