Chapter 2 #2
"I know, but everything's changed." His face lights up with genuine excitement. "Bea, I have a pack now."
That stops me cold. "What?"
"Two alphas—Ryan and Joel. Really good guys." He's practically vibrating with enthusiasm. "We've formed a pack, have a house, stable incomes. We built a nest for you."
My chest tightens. For most omegas, this would be a dream offer. A ready-made pack, established and waiting.
But something feels off. The Terrance I broke up with had been sad but accepting. This version is... different.
"Terrance—"
"Just listen." He steps closer, and there's an energy to him I don't recognize—like he's rehearsed this speech. "You'd fit perfectly with us. Ryan is a lawyer, Joel's in finance. Stable, responsible. We can give you the family you've always wanted."
"I never said I wanted a family."
"But you do want one eventually, right?" He smiles like this is obvious.
"And with us, you'd have everything. A beautiful home, three alphas who'd take care of you, and—" He pauses like he's about to deliver the best part.
"And once the babies are older, once they're in school maybe, you could start your marketing business then. "
There it is.
The same fundamental misunderstanding, just wrapped in prettier packaging.
"That's not what I want," I say slowly, my stomach sinking. "I want my career now. Not in five or ten years after I've had babies."
"You said you understood when we broke up." My voice comes out smaller than I intend. "You said neither of us was wrong, we just wanted different things."
"I did understand. I do understand." He says it like he's being perfectly reasonable. "But I also found a solution. Ryan and Joel helped me see things more clearly—"
"More clearly?" The words taste bitter.
"We've talked about it extensively. About what omegas need, what makes a healthy pack." He's got that conviction in his voice now, like he's quoting someone. "Family first, then career. That's the natural order. You just had the timeline wrong."
Oh. Understanding crashes over me. He hasn't changed his mind. His new pack has reinforced his beliefs, made him more certain he knows what's best. The Terrance who accepted our breakup is gone, replaced by this version who thinks he's found all the answers.
"Bea, you need to be realistic." His voice takes on that patient tone I've come to hate. "You can't build a business while raising young children. It's not practical."
"Plenty of omegas do."
"Sure, with help. But why struggle when you don't have to?" He reaches out like he wants to touch my arm, then seems to think better of it and lets his hand drop. "We'd take care of everything. You could focus on being a mother first, then pursue your hobbies—"
"My career isn't a hobby."
"I didn't mean it like that." Frustration creeps into his voice. "I'm trying to give you everything, Bea. A pack, a family, security. And you're throwing it away for what? Some pipe dream about running a business?"
"It's not a pipe dream. It's my future."
"Then build it later!" His voice rises slightly, and a few people glance our way.
He takes a breath, clearly trying to calm himself.
"Look, I get it. You're young. You think you want independence.
But Ryan and Joel have helped me understand—no alpha is going to support you putting career before pack.
That's just not how it works. I'm offering you the best of both worlds, just in the right order. "
My hands clench into fists. This isn't the Terrance I broke up with. That Terrance had looked sad but accepted my choice. Two other alphas telling him he's right has reinforced this one.
"Maybe I'll find an alpha who does."
"You won't." He says it with such certainty. "I've talked to Ryan and Joel about this. We all agree—family comes first, then career. That's the natural order. You're fighting biology, and you're going to end up alone and miserable."
People are definitely watching now. I can feel their stares, hear the whispers starting. This is exactly what I didn't want. A public scene, everyone judging.
"I'm not fighting biology," I hiss. "I'm fighting your expectations."
"Because you're scared." His voice softens, turns pleading. "Bea, I love you. We could be so good together. The pack is ready. We're just waiting for you to say yes."
"I'm saying no."
"You don't mean that."
"I absolutely mean that."
"Then why are you here alone?" He gestures around the festival. "Why aren't you with someone else if I'm so wrong for you? It's been a month, Bea. If you really wanted something different, you'd have found it by now."
My throat tightens. He's being pushy, not listening, still so convinced he knows what's best for me. And the terrible thing is—he genuinely believes he's offering me everything I could want.
He just doesn't understand that what I want isn't what he's offering.
"Is there someone else?" he asks, and there's a challenge in it now. "Someone who magically supports all these dreams you have?"
I open my mouth. Close it. Try to find words that will make him understand.
And that's when I realize Seth is still there.
Just a few feet away, pretending to examine the handmade soap display but clearly keeping an eye on the situation. His posture has shifted—no longer relaxed, but alert. Protective without being intrusive.
Our eyes meet.
He straightens immediately, his expression shifting from concerned to ready-to-help. He can see Terrance standing too close. Can probably read the tension in my posture, smell the panic in my scent.
An idea forms—reckless, stupid, absolutely insane.
But Terrance won't listen to words. He needs proof. He needs to believe I've moved on, that I've found someone who wants me exactly as I am.
Panic does funny things to the brain.
Panic makes you look at a sweet, gentle deputy standing just a few feet away and think yes, him.
I don't let myself overthink it.
"Actually," I hear myself say to Terrance, "there is someone."
His eyebrows shoot up. "What?"
"Someone who respects my dreams. Who wants me to succeed." I'm already moving, closing the small distance between me and Seth before I can change my mind. "Someone who gets me in a way you never did."
"Bea, wait—"
But I'm not waiting. I'm turning, my heart pounding so loud I can hear it in my ears. Seth's eyes widen as I approach, confusion and concern mixing in those warm brown depths.
"Is everything okay?" he starts to ask. "Do you need—"
My hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him down to my height. He makes this startled sound—half gasp, half shock—his entire body going rigid as I kiss him.
Not a peck. Not a quick brush of lips. I kiss him desperately, because I need Terrance to believe this, to finally let me go.
For several heartbeats, he doesn't move at all. His hands hover uncertainly near my sides, not quite touching, like he's afraid he'll break something if he moves.
I'm about to pull away, horrified, when I feel it—the smallest shift. His lips, tentative and questioning, begin to move against mine.
And that's when everything changes.
The panic that drove me here dissolves, replaced by something warm and unexpected that spreads through my chest like honey. His hands finally settle on my waist. Gentle, barely any pressure and when I press closer without thinking, he makes this soft, surprised sound that's almost vulnerable.
I part my lips slightly, and he follows. Careful. Unpracticed. Sweet in a way that makes my chest ache.
His scent wraps around me—clean rain and cedar and warm bread—and my omega biology responds immediately, humming with contentment despite every logical thought screaming that this was supposed to be fake.
He tastes like coffee and something sweet. One of his hands slides from my waist to my lower back, still so careful, like I'm something precious he's afraid to break.
When my tongue brushes his, he startles—then something shifts in him.
For just a heartbeat, his grip tightens. He kisses me back with genuine hunger that steals my breath, his mouth suddenly sure and demanding. The hand on my lower back presses me closer and I feel the full strength he's been holding back.
Heat pools low in my belly. My heart races. And between my thighs, that unmistakable slickness.
Then the shyness returns. His hold gentles again, becomes uncertain, like he's shocked by his own response. But that moment of raw want lingers between us, making my knees weak.
When I press even closer, chest against his, I feel his heart hammering. His scent thickens with arousal he can't hide.
I forget about Terrance. Forget about the crowd. Forget this was supposed to be a performance.
All I know is Seth, and the way kissing him feels like coming home to somewhere I didn't know I'd been missing.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Seth's pupils are blown wide, nearly swallowing the brown of his irises. His cheeks are flushed deep red. His lips slightly swollen. He looks completely dazed.
"I..." He starts, voice rough and unsteady. Clears his throat. Tries again, and his voice actually cracks. "Hi?"
His hands are still on my waist—gentle, careful, shaking slightly.
Reality crashes back into me like ice water.
Oh no. Oh no no no.
That wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to feel that. It was supposed to be a quick, desperate kiss to prove a point. Not... not whatever that was. Not heat pooling in my core and my omega humming with satisfaction and wanting more, wanting to pull him back down and…
What have I done?
"I'm so sorry," I gasp. "I just…there was…I needed."
"Bea."
Terrance's voice cuts through my panic like ice water.
I spin around, nearly stumbling. Seth's hands steady me automatically before falling away.
My ex-boyfriend stands ten feet back, looking shocked and... sad. Defeated. His eyes move from me to Seth and back again, and I watch him finally understand what 'no' means.