Chapter 26
Bea
"Your mom cried over my cinnamon rolls."
I look up from the box I'm taping to find River leaning in my childhood bedroom doorway, grinning like he just won the lottery. His pine-and-snow scent drifts into the room, immediately making everything feel calmer.
"She teared up," I correct, shoving another sweater into the box. "That's basically the same thing for Mom."
"I'm counting it as crying." He moves into the room, his hand finding my waist as he passes. "Your mom cried over my baking. That's going on my résumé."
Seth appears behind him, arms full of books. Cedar-and-rain washes over me, mixing with River's pine until my small bedroom smells like pack.
"Your dad gave me the shovel talk," he says, more amused than anxious. "Very politely. But definitely a shovel talk."
"That means he likes you." I move to take some books, and he leans down to press a quick kiss to my temple—confident, easy. Through the bond, I feel his pleased contentment. "If he didn't care, he wouldn't bother."
"Your Papa quoted Shakespeare at me. Was that a test?"
"Definitely a test." I abandon the box to cup his face, letting him feel my certainty through our connection. "You passed. He wouldn't have spent thirty minutes helping you reorganize his bookshelf otherwise."
Relief floods through the bond, tempered with satisfaction. Being connected to Seth means I can feel every emotion, and right now he's feeling good. Confident.
"Besides," I add, stretching up to kiss him softly, "Papa said you have 'excellent organizational sensibilities.' That's the highest praise he gives."
Grayson appears in the doorway, ink-and-leather joining the mix—sharp and dark and somehow perfect with the others. He moves to my closet, already organizing, but not before his hand trails across my shoulders.
"I brought expensive wine," he says, labeling another box with meticulous handwriting. "And let your father interrogate my knowledge of Renaissance literature."
"You researched my family."
"I called Maya at the library and asked what Marie Wilson likes to read and drink." He closes a box with precise movements, then pulls me against his side. "Reconnaissance is important."
I lean into him, breathing in ink and leather. "You're insane. All of you."
"Insane enough that you're moving in with us," he points out. "What does that say about you?"
"That I have terrible taste in alphas."
"The worst," River agrees cheerfully, grabbing two boxes like they weigh nothing. He pauses to kiss my cheek. "Come on. Truck's not going to pack itself."
"It might if we ask nicely," Grayson says, completely deadpan.
The moving process goes fast with four people. River and Grayson work with practiced efficiency. Seth and I are less coordinated, but every time one of them passes me, there's a touch—River's hand on my lower back, Grayson's fingers trailing across my hip, Seth pulling me in for quick kisses.
"Living room," Grayson directs, his hand warm on my waist.
"Where specifically?" River adjusts his grip on my lamp.
"Wherever Bea wants."
The pressure of deciding feels huge and wonderful. "By the window? Good morning light."
"Perfect." Seth immediately pulls out the small notebook he keeps in his jacket pocket and a pen. He starts writing, brow furrowed in concentration.
"Are you taking notes on my furniture?" I ask, amused.
"Just making sure I remember where everything goes." He's completely serious, adding another line. "Window side, lamp, good light—"
"That's literally just a list, Seth."
"It's a helpful list." But he's smiling now, tucking the notebook away and pulling me in for a quick kiss.
"He color-codes his lists," Grayson observes dryly from where he's setting down a box. "There's a whole system."
"The system works," Seth protests, his hand finding mine.
"The system is excessive," River says, grinning. "But we love you anyway."
"Someone has to keep us organized," Seth mutters, but I can feel his happiness through the bond.
By the time we've unloaded everything, my stomach is growling.
"Food," River declares, pulling me toward the kitchen. "Now."
We end up sitting around the table eating sandwiches. Seth sits close enough that our thighs touch. Grayson's hand rests on my knee. River keeps stealing bites of my sandwich, grinning when I swat at him.
"The spare bedroom is ready," Seth says when we're done. His hand slides into mine, cedar-and-rain wrapping around me. "Want to see your office?"
He leads me down the hall with River and Grayson trailing behind. When he opens the door, I stop breathing.
The walls are sage green—my favorite color. There's a beautiful desk by the window, an office chair, empty bookshelves ready to be filled. A small couch in the corner.
"We did it before Christmas," River says quietly, his hands settling on my shoulders. "Grayson found the desk at an estate sale. Seth painted. I handled the furniture."
"You did this." My voice comes out thick with emotion. "You built me an office."
"We built you a space for your dreams," Grayson corrects, his hand finding my hip. "For your business. Everything you've been planning."
Through the bond, I feel Seth's nervous hope. "Is it okay? We can change anything—"
I turn and kiss him hard enough that he makes a surprised sound. Then I grab River and kiss him. Then Grayson.
"It's perfect," I say. "You're all perfect."
"We're really not," River says, grinning, pulling me against his side. "But we're perfect for you."
"So what's first?" River asks. "For the business?"
"Website. Social media presence." I'm already mentally organizing. "Then local outreach—the general store needs help, the diner's Instagram is just badly lit food photos—"
"Wait, wait." River's grinning, pulling me against his side. "Before you conquer the whole town, can we talk about how you turned my hardware store into a viral sensation? That video of me cutting wood and organizing fasteners hit fifty thousand views."
"The 'satisfying sounds' video," I say, smiling at the memory.
"And the tutorial ones brought in actual business—had contractors driving in from two towns over asking about bulk orders." He's genuinely excited now, that golden retriever energy in full force. "Plus the arm porn is apparently working. Grayson showed me the thirst comments."
"I told you the rolled sleeves would work," I say smugly.
"You were dangerously right about that," Grayson observes dryly. "The internet has opinions about River's forearms."
"Good opinions?" River asks, grinning.
"Extremely detailed opinions," Grayson says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.
Seth sends amused-embarrassed feelings through the bond.
"Point is," River continues, squeezing my waist, "you're brilliant at this. You're going to have the whole town's businesses thriving within a month. Mrs. Henderson's probably going to ask you to market her cat rescue operation."
"Mr. Whiskers does need better PR," Seth observes through the bond, and I feel his amusement.
"Exactly." River's still grinning. "My brilliant omega is going to put Honeyridge Falls on the digital map."
"She's in marketing mode," Grayson says, catching my hand and lacing our fingers together. "Look at her light up."
"It's attractive," Seth says through the bond, his desire flavoring the words.
"Very attractive," River agrees, his other hand finding my hip.
"You can't just—" I gesture helplessly. "I'm trying to have a professional discussion and you're all touching me and looking at me like—"
"Like we're attracted to our brilliant omega who's going to take over the world?" Grayson's breath is warm against my neck. "That's accurate."
Heat floods my face. "You're impossible."
"You like it," Grayson murmurs, and he's right.
"Come on," I say, slipping out of their circle. "I need to add my stuff to the nest."
A knock on the front door makes us all freeze.
"Are you expecting someone?" I ask Seth.
"No." He's already moving, deputy instincts engaging. "Stay here."
A moment later, his voice drifts up. "It's fine! It's Maeve!"
Maeve Bennett is on the front porch holding a basket covered with a checkered cloth and wearing her signature floral apron under her coat.
"Welcome home, sweetheart!" She beams at me, then fixes all three alphas with a knowing look. "I heard you were moving in today. Figured you'd need something sweet after all that work."
"Maeve, you didn't have to—" Seth starts.
"Nonsense. I've known this girl since she was born." She hands the basket to River. "Cinnamon rolls, some cookies, and a loaf of honey bread. Growing packs need feeding."
Maeve's sharp eyes take in all of us—how close we're standing, the way they keep touching me, Seth's arm around my waist. Her smile grows. "Look at you four. Already smell like pack."
Heat floods my face, but she just laughs warmly.
"I won't keep you—I'm sure you have plenty of unpacking left.
" She pats my cheek with the casual affection of someone who's known me forever.
"But Bea, honey, you stop by the bakery this week.
I want to hear all about your business plans.
And I have some thoughts about marketing for The Honey Crumb that you might find interesting. "
"Really?" My business brain immediately perks up.
"Really. My social media is a disaster and I know it." She winks. "Plus I make the best scones in three counties. We can talk over breakfast."
After she leaves, Grayson lifts the cloth to peek inside the basket. "Oh my god, these smell amazing."
"Maeve's been running The Honey Crumb for thirty years," I tell him. "She mothers everyone."
We end up eating Maeve's cookies in the living room, sitting on the floor. They're perfectly soft and buttery, still warm from the bakery. Seth sits behind me, his legs bracketing mine, his arms around my waist. River and Grayson sit close enough that we're all touching—knees, shoulders, hands.