Chapter 12 #2
"Honey, I've been watching you pine after that girl for weeks. Of course I knew." She pats my cheek. "Now go get her. And Seth? Stop being so hard on yourself. You're a catch."
Twenty minutes later, I'm walking into Brooks Hardware with my heart trying to escape through my throat.
The bell above the door chimes. Bea looks up from behind the counter, and her whole face goes through about five expressions in two seconds—surprise, panic, guilt, hope, and something that might be relief.
"Seth." My name comes out breathless. "Hi. I—what are you doing here?"
"Hi." I set down the coffee and bag on the counter. My hands are shaking. "Brought you coffee. I mean—I brought coffee. For you."
She stares at the cup like it might explode. "You brought me coffee."
"Hazelnut latte, extra shot, oat milk." I can't quite meet her eyes. "And a blueberry muffin. From Maeve. She said—I mean, I wanted to bring you something and she suggested—" I'm rambling. "Coffee."
"You—" She picks up the cup, and I watch her throat work as she swallows. "Seth, I'm so sorry. About last night. I know you saw me at Millie's with Grayson and I—I should have texted you or something but I didn't know what to say and—"
"I did." The words come out flat. Then I wince. "See you. With him. I mean."
She flinches. "Yeah. I figured. You looked—" She stops. "I'm sorry."
"Don't." I force myself to look at her. "Don't apologize for having dinner with someone."
"But I—"
"You didn't do anything wrong, Bea." My voice comes out a little steadier now. "You're allowed to have dinner with whoever you want. You're allowed to—" I gesture vaguely. "To figure things out."
She's staring at me like I just spoke in another language. "You're not mad."
"I'm—" I stop. Run a hand through my hair. "I'm not mad. I was... hurt. Jealous, maybe. But not mad."
"You should be mad." Her voice is small. "I kissed you at the festival. Then I kissed River yesterday. Then I had dinner with Grayson. I'm a disaster."
"You're not a disaster."
"I kissed you at the festival. Then I kissed River yesterday. And I had dinner with Grayson last night." Her voice is strained. "I'm stringing all three of you along and I don't even know what I want."
Despite everything, I almost smile. "You're not stringing anyone along."
"It feels like I am." She's gripping the coffee cup tighter. "I don't know what I'm doing."
"Or maybe you're just trying to figure out what you want," I say quietly.
She lets out a watery laugh. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"That's what it looks like to me."
We stand there in awkward silence. She's gripping the coffee cup like a lifeline. I'm gripping the counter edge because if I don't, I might do something stupid like reach for her.
"Why are you being so nice about this?" she asks finally. "Why aren't you telling me to pick someone? Or demanding to know what I'm doing?"
"Because—" I take a breath. "Because I don't think you know yet. What you're doing. What you want." I meet her eyes. "And that's okay."
"It doesn't feel okay." Her voice cracks slightly. "It feels like I'm hurting everyone and I don't know how to stop."
"You're not hurting anyone." The words come out fiercer than I intend. "Bea, you're not responsible for how we feel. Any of us."
She looks up at me, eyes shining. "Seth—"
"I care about you," I say, before I lose my nerve. The words tumble out faster now. "A lot. More than I probably should after one kiss and some awkward conversations. But that's—that's my problem, not yours. You don't owe me anything."
"What if I want to?" The words are barely a whisper.
My heart stops. "Want to what?"
"Care about you back." She's biting her lip, not quite meeting my eyes. "Want you too. Would that be—is that allowed?"
Oh.
Oh.
"Yeah," I manage. "That would be—yeah. Very allowed."
A smile tugs at her lips. A real one this time. "Even after I kissed River? And had dinner with Grayson?"
"Even then."
"You're really okay with all of this?" She's watching me carefully. "Really?"
"I—" I stop. Look at her. Really look at her. "This morning, I talked to River and Grayson. About you. About—about all of us."
Her eyes go wide. "You what?"
"We talked. About how we all—" I clear my throat, grip the counter. "How we all want you. And how you seem overwhelmed by all of us wanting you separately. And how maybe—" This is harder than I thought. "How maybe we don't have to be separate."
She's just staring at me.
"A pack," I say, the word coming out clearer now that I've committed to saying it. "The three of us. Courting you together. If that's something you'd want. Eventually. When you're ready." I take a breath. "If you're ever ready."
"You talked about forming a pack." Her voice is faint. "With River and Grayson."
"Yeah."
"To court me. Together."
"Yeah." I grip the counter harder. "But you don't have to—I mean, we're not pressuring you.
We just wanted you to know that we're not fighting over you.
That if you wanted—" I'm rambling now, can't seem to stop.
"You could have all of us. Or none of us.
Or just one. Whatever you want. No pressure.
I just—we thought you should know it's an option.
If you wanted. Which you might not. Which is fine. Totally fine."
She sets down the coffee cup very carefully. Then she comes around the counter, and suddenly she's right in front of me, close enough that I can smell her—cinnamon and apples and something warm that makes me want to purr just from being near her.
"A pack," she repeats, like she's testing the word. "You three. Together. For me."
"Yeah." I watch her carefully. "Is that—are you okay?"
"I don't know." Her laugh is a little shaky.
"I don't know anything right now. Last night I realized I—" She stops.
Takes a breath. "I want all three of you.
And that's terrifying. And then you show up here telling me you've already talked about it and I don't know if that makes it better or worse. "
"Better?" I offer hopefully.
"Maybe?" She's biting her lip, looking up at me. "Seth, I don't know how to do this. Any of this. I've never—" She gestures vaguely between us. "This is all new and scary and I keep waiting for it to go wrong."
"It doesn't have to go wrong."
"But it could." Her voice is small. "I could mess this up. Hurt all of you. I'm already—" She looks down. "I saw your face last night. At Millie's. I hurt you."
"You didn't—"
"I did. And I'll probably do it again because I don't know what I'm doing."
I cup her face gently, make her look at me. "Then we'll figure it out together. All four of us."
She lets out a shaky breath, and I watch her eyes drift up.
I follow her gaze. Mistletoe.
"Oh," I say stupidly. "That's—"
"Mistletoe." Her cheeks flush. "Still up from yesterday."
"Right." My heart is pounding.
We stand there for a moment, both staring up at it.
"Seth?" Her voice is quiet.
"Yeah?"
"I'm really bad at this. At knowing what I want and asking for it."
"That's okay—"
"But I think—" She looks at me, and her eyes are wide and vulnerable. "I think I want you to kiss me. If that's okay. If you want to."
My brain short-circuits. "If I—yes. Yeah. I very much want to."
"Okay." She's still biting her lip, nervous. "Okay."
"Okay," I echo, and then I'm leaning in slowly, giving her time to change her mind.
And then somehow I'm moving, and she's meeting me halfway, and her hand is fisting in my jacket to pull me closer.
The kiss is—
It's everything.
Soft at first. Tentative. I'm terrified of doing it wrong, of being bad at this. But then she sighs against my mouth and makes this small sound in the back of her throat, and something in me just—responds.
I cup her face with shaking hands, trying to remember how this goes. She tastes like coffee and something uniquely her—that cinnamon-apple sweetness that's been driving me crazy for weeks.
Her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling into my uniform shirt. She presses closer, rising on her tiptoes, and I'm not sure what to do with my hands so I settle them on her waist. Gentle. Careful.
"Seth," she breathes against my mouth.
The way she says my name—I can't help it. A low rumble starts in my chest. Purring.
Her eyes go wide and she pulls back slightly. "Are you—"
"Sorry," I manage, face burning. "Can't—I can't help it. You're—"
She smiles and kisses me again, and this time it's deeper. Her tongue traces my lower lip and I freeze for a second—I don't know what I'm doing, I've never—but then I just follow her lead. Mirror what she does.
It must be okay because she makes that sound again and presses even closer.
I'm still purring. Can't stop. Don't want to stop.
Her scent is everywhere now. Cinnamon and apples and arousal, sweet and heady and perfect. It's intoxicating. I'm drowning in it and I never want to surface.
One of my hands slides from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her closer. The other stays on her hip, thumb brushing the sliver of skin where her shirt has ridden up. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it.
"We're—" Her breath hitches. "We're still in the store."
"Oh god." Reality crashes back. I pull away, face flaming. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—that was—"
"Don't apologize." She's breathing hard, lips swollen, and she looks absolutely beautiful. "That was really good."
"Really?" I can't quite believe it. "Because I have no idea what I'm doing and I was kind of just—"
"Seth." She touches my face. "It was perfect."
The bell above the door chimes.
We spring apart. Bea's face is bright red, her hair mussed from my hands. I'm probably not much better.
An older woman I don't recognize stands in the doorway, eyebrows raised and lips twitching with amusement.
"Sorry," she says, not sounding sorry at all. "Am I interrupting?"
"No!" Bea squeaks. "I mean—yes. I mean—" She tries to smooth her hair. "Can I help you find something?"
I step back, adjusting my uniform, trying to look professional instead of like I was just making out with my— with Bea in the middle of the hardware store.
The woman is definitely fighting a smile. "Just browsing, honey. Take your time."
She disappears down an aisle, and Bea turns to me with wide eyes.
"Oh my god," she whispers. "That was—"
"Yeah." I run a hand through my hair, still trying to catch my breath. I'm annoyed at the interruption but also—god, I can't help the satisfaction flooding through me. She wanted me. She chose me. "That was—"
"Really good," she finishes softly.
"Yeah." I can't stop smiling. "Really, really good."
We stand there grinning at each other like idiots until the customer clears her throat from somewhere in the paint aisle.
Bea jumps. "I should—she needs help—"
"Go." I step back, giving her space even though everything in me wants to pull her close again. "I'll text you later?"
"You better." She touches her lips, still swollen from kissing, then smiles at me.
I watch her head toward the paint aisle, my chest warm and full, before slipping out the door.
When I'm back in my patrol car, my phone buzzes.
River: How'd it go?
Grayson: Please tell me you didn't screw it up.
I take a selfie—grinning like an idiot with kiss-swollen lips—and send it to both of them.
Seth: She kissed me. We're doing this. We're really doing this.
River: Hell yes.
Grayson: About damn time, Deputy.
I pocket my phone and start the car, my heart lighter than it's been in weeks.
Whatever comes next—whatever Bea decides—at least I know I gave her the choice.
And that's worth everything.