Chapter 8 #2
The moment feels fragile, important somehow. I turn my attention back to the road before I can mess it up.
The heater's blasting, making the car almost too warm now. I reach over and turn it down a notch, hyperaware of how close my hand comes to her knee.
She clears her throat softly. "So," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "I can't imagine you on a ladder hanging lights. You seem more like the 'stay on solid ground' type."
"I'm fine with heights. It's the part where Tessa stands below yelling directions that's terrifying."
"She yelled at you?" There's delight in her voice now.
"For twenty minutes about the exact angle of a wreath." I can't help smiling at the memory. "This was yesterday. Ben drove by, saw what was happening, and just started laughing. Didn't even try to help."
"That sounds like Ben." She shifts in her seat, and I catch more of her scent—sweeter now, relaxed. "He's terrible at helping when something's funny."
"He took pictures."
"Oh no."
"Sent them to half the town. Pretty sure they're still making the rounds."
Her laugh is bright and genuine, and I realize this is the first time I've heard her laugh like this—unguarded, natural. Not the polite chuckle from the general store or the nervous one from earlier.
We drive in comfortable silence for a minute. The heater hums quietly, filling the car with warmth. Her scent is getting stronger—or maybe I'm just hyperaware of every breath she takes.
"Can I show you something?" The question surprises me as much as her.
"Sure."
I take the turn toward the outskirts of town, where the streetlights fade and the forest presses close. There's a small overlook here—barely a pulloff, really—where you can see all of Honeyridge Falls spread out below. Lights twinkling against the dark mountains. Snow dusting the peaks.
I park and cut the engine.
"Oh." Bea leans forward, and I catch more of her scent—warm and sweet and dangerously tempting. "I forgot about this spot."
"You've been here before?"
"Once. Ben brought me up here after a bad day in high school. Said it helped him get perspective." She smiles at the memory. "I can see why you like it."
"It's where I come when I need to think." Or when I'm overwhelmed. Or when I've spent all day thinking about a certain omega and need to clear my head. "Reminds me why I love this town."
We sit in silence. The heater hums. Her breathing is soft, steady. I can smell her so clearly now—cinnamon and apples and warm omega, wrapping around me until I'm drowning in it.
My patrol car is never going to smell the same again.
"Seth?" Her voice is quiet. "Can I ask you something personal?"
"Sure."
"You said you don't date much." She's picking at that thread on her coat again. "But like... have you dated at all? I don't mean to pry, I just—you said women don't notice you, which is crazy, but..."
"Not really, no." My neck heats. "I went to prom. That was awkward. And there was one girl in college who asked me out, but I panicked and said I had to study, which was a terrible excuse because it was a Saturday night."
She makes a small sound that might be a laugh. "What about since then? You've been a deputy for what, five years?"
"Six." I flex my hands on the wheel. "And no. I've been focused on work. Building my career. I figured dating could wait until I had things more figured out."
"Seth, you're twenty-seven. Most people don't have things figured out at twenty-seven."
"Yeah, well." I don't know how to explain it—the way I've always felt a step behind everyone else socially. How dating seemed like this complicated thing I'd get to eventually. "I guess I just... kept waiting for the right time. And then it never came."
She's quiet for a long moment. Then, so softly I almost don't hear it, "At the festival. When I kissed you."
She pauses, and I can smell the shift in her scent—anxiety spiking sharp and sudden. "That wasn't—" Her voice wavers. "Seth, please tell me that wasn't your first kiss."
The way she says it—like she's dreading the answer—makes my chest tight.
I could lie. Should lie. Say something smooth about kissing plenty of people, that it was no big deal.
But that's not who I am.
"Yeah." The word comes out rough. "That was my first kiss. First real one, anyway."
She goes completely still beside me. "No."
"It's okay—"
"No, Seth, please tell me that wasn't—" Her voice cracks.
"Please tell me I didn't just... god, I took that from you.
Without even asking. Without even knowing.
" Her scent spikes with distress—sharp and acidic.
"Your first kiss was with some panicked omega using you as a shield in front of half the town and—"
"Bea—"
"I'm so sorry." She sounds genuinely upset now. "That should have been special. With someone you chose. Someone you—not like that. Not the way I did it."
"Stop." The word comes out firmer than I intend. "Bea, stop. You didn't take anything from me."
"But—"
"That kiss—" I have to force the words out. "That was the best thing that's happened to me in years. Maybe ever."
She makes a small sound of protest, but I keep going.
"Yeah, I was terrified. Had no idea what I was doing. But you didn't use me, okay? When you grabbed me, when you kissed me—" My voice drops. "For the first time in my life, someone looked at me and thought 'him.' You chose me. Even if it was just for a moment. That's not nothing."
"Seth..."
"So don't apologize. Please." I chance a glance at her. "That kiss meant something to me. It was special. Because it was you."
The silence stretches. Her scent shifts again—the sharp distress fading into something softer, warmer.
"You kissed me back," she says finally, voice barely above a whisper. "I remember. The way you held me..."
Heat floods my face. "Yeah. I... sorry if I—"
"Don't." She shifts in her seat, and her scent intensifies. "Don't apologize. It was... god, Seth, it was really good."
I have no idea what to say to that. My brain has completely abandoned me.
There's a long moment of silence. I can hear her breathing, feel the weight of everything unsaid between us.
"Seth, look at me."
I can't. If I look at her right now, sitting this close in my car, her scent everywhere, those eyes on me—
"Seth."
I turn my head.
Her pupils are dilated. Lips slightly parted. Cheeks flushed pink. She's looking at me like—like—
No. I'm reading this wrong. I have to be.
"You're right," she says slowly. "I did choose you.
We'd just been talking—you were so sweet, offering to help me find Ben.
And then when Terrance showed up and I was panicking, I looked around and there you were.
Still watching to make sure I was okay." Her voice softens.
"I thought—I want him. It has to be him. "
My chest tightens. "Bea—"
"And when you kissed me back?" Her voice drops. "The way you held me, like I was precious? That was—"
She stops.
"Was what?"
"Everything," she finishes quietly. "It was everything."
The air in the car shifts. Gets heavier. Charged with something electric and dangerous. Every alpha instinct I have is screaming at me to move closer, to touch her, to—
The radio crackles.
"All units, 10-35 at Main and Birch. Vehicle on the curb, possible impaired driver."
I grab the radio like a lifeline. "Deputy Monroe responding. Two minutes out."
My hands are shaking as I start the engine, flip on the lights. The moment breaks, but my heart's still racing.
"Sorry," I mutter. "I have to—"
"Do your job. I know." But she's gripping the handle above her door, concern clear in her scent. "Be careful."
The drive takes ninety seconds. There's a sedan half-mounted on the curb, hazards blinking. Someone slumped over the wheel.
"Stay here," I tell Bea.
"Seth—"
But I'm already out, training kicking in. Hand on my belt. Approach the vehicle from behind. The window's down. Inside, Mr. Garrison—my old high school English teacher—is pale and sweating, gripping the steering wheel.
"Mr. Garrison? Sir, are you alright?"
His head jerks up, eyes unfocused. "Seth. I—my blood sugar—"
Not drunk. Diabetic emergency.
"It's okay, sir. I've got you." I'm already on the radio calling for an ambulance. "Mr. Garrison, when did you last eat?"
"This morning... feel shaky..."
I turn back toward the patrol car. "Bea, there's orange juice in the back seat. Can you grab it?"
She's already moving, no hesitation. Seconds later she's beside me, orange juice in hand.
"Thank you." I take it, help Mr. Garrison with small sips. "There you go, sir. Easy does it."
Bea hovers nearby, watching. Quiet. Present.
I check his pulse, keep him talking. Ask him about the book he was telling me about last week—some mystery novel. His color starts improving, words coming easier.
By the time the ambulance arrives, he's looking much better.
"Always were a good student, Seth," Mr. Garrison says as the paramedics check him over. "Pays attention. Does what needs doing."
"Just glad you're okay, sir."
When I turn around, Bea's leaning against the patrol car, watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
When I turn around, Bea's leaning against the patrol car, watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
"You okay?" I ask as I walk back.
"Yeah." Her voice is soft. "That was... you were really good with him."
"It was just a blood sugar thing. Pretty routine."
"Seth." She pushes off the car. "You kept him calm. You knew exactly what to do. And the way he looked at you—like you were someone he could trust completely."
My neck heats. "He was my English teacher. Used to give me extra books to read during study hall."
"He clearly thinks highly of you." She's watching me with those warm eyes. "And I can see why."
I clear my throat. "We should... I should probably get you home now."
"Right. Yeah." But she doesn't move for a second, just keeps looking at me.
We get back in the patrol car. I pull away from the curb, and for a few minutes, we're both quiet.
The adrenaline from the emergency is fading, leaving something else in its wake.
The car feels smaller now. More intimate.
Her scent has settled into every surface—the seats, the dashboard, my uniform.
I clear my throat. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She's watching me. "Just... that was intense. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Just..." I flex my hands on the wheel. "Calls like that always get my heart going. Even the ones that turn out fine."
"You handled it really well." Her voice is soft.
"Thanks."
The rest of the drive is quiet. Not awkward—just... comfortable. The kind of silence that doesn't need filling.
When I pull up in front of her house, the porch light's on. And Ben's standing on the front steps, arms crossed, grinning like he knows exactly what's happening.
Oh no.
Bea sees him and groans. "Kill me now."
"Too late to turn around?"
"Way too late." But she's smiling as she unbuckles. "Thanks for the ride, Seth."
"Anytime."
She opens the door, and Ben's voice carries across the yard. "Well, well, well. Deputy Monroe bringing my sister home. In a patrol car." He's walking toward us now, that shit-eating grin getting wider. "Did he put you in handcuffs, Bea? How kinky."
My face erupts in flames. "I—we weren't—that's not—"
Bea groans. "Oh my god, Ben."
"What? I'm just asking important questions." He leans against my car, looking way too pleased with himself. "So, Seth. Give her a proper escort home? Lights and sirens?"
"Your sister needed a ride," I manage. "That's all."
"Mm-hmm. That's all." Ben's eyes are dancing with amusement. "Sure thing, buddy."
"Ignore my brother," Bea tells me, shooting Ben a death glare. "He thinks he's hilarious."
"I am hilarious," Ben protests. "And I'm also going inside now before Bea murders me." He taps the roof of the patrol car twice. "Good seeing you, Seth."
"I hate you!" Bea calls after him, but he's already jogging up the steps, laughing.
She turns back to me, cheeks flushed pink. "I'm so sorry about him."
"It's fine." My face is still burning. "Brothers, right?"
"The worst." She hesitates, like she wants to say something else. Then just gives me a small wave. "Night, Seth."
"Night, Bea."
She heads up the walkway, and I wait until she's safely inside before pulling away.
The drive back to the station is quiet.
My patrol car smells like cinnamon and apples and warm omega. Every breath reminds me of her. Of the way she looked at me in the car. The way her scent changed when we were sitting at the overlook.
That moment before the radio crackled.
When her pupils were dilated and her lips were parted and the air between us felt electric. When she told me the kiss was "everything."
Would I have kissed her? If the call hadn't come through?
My hands tighten on the wheel.
Yeah. I think I would have.
And the terrifying part—the part that has my heart racing even now—is that I think she might have kissed me back.