Chapter 45
Lincoln
I wake before my alarm, staring at the ceiling like someone yanked me out of sleep by the collar.
My heart is thudding hard enough I can feel it in my throat.
It isn’t the usual morning adrenaline or leftover stress from the season.
It feels like pressure under my ribs, like a hand pushing from the inside out. A tug. A pull. A direction.
Bayleigh.
The thought hits so fast I almost fall out of bed.
My body reacts before my brain does. I push upright and scrub both hands over my face, trying to get my breathing under control, but the urge doesn’t fade.
I need to see her. I need to smell her, to make sure she’s okay, to make sure she still wants us.
I breathe in deep, hoping her scent is still on my skin or lingering in my room, but it’s faint. Barely there. It makes something greedy and instinctive twist low in my gut.
I swing my legs out of bed and stand, stretching until my back pops. The house is quiet for a second, then a faint sound carries down the hall. Cabinets open, silverware clinks, someone’s moving through the house with purpose.
I follow it.
Korbin’s in the kitchen, elbows braced on the counter while the coffeemaker sputters and hisses.
The machine sounds like it’s fighting for its life, and he’s glaring at it like he’ll square up with it if it loses the battle.
His shoulders are tense, muscles shifting under a tight long-sleeve shirt, and he keeps rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he’s thinking too hard.
By the fridge, Milton is a completely different story.
He’s humming. Off-key, wandering notes that have the same energy as someone skipping.
He pulls out a container, sniffs it, grins like a fool, and sets it back with the confidence of a man who got exactly what he wanted last night and hasn’t stopped replaying every second of it.
His citrus scent is thick and sweet, practically glowing around him.
He radiates satisfaction so hard it’s almost a smell.
I don’t need him to talk. His body is telling the whole story already.
The way he moves lighter. The way his eyes keep drifting toward the door like he’s waiting for someone to step through it.
Like he’s waiting for her.
I lean against the wall, watching them for a moment. Watching the way the house shifts around their moods. Korbin’s tension. Milton’s afterglow. The space between them charged in a way that doesn’t feel like friendship anymore. It feels like a pack waiting on its missing piece.
It feels like all of us are orbiting the same center.
Bayleigh.
And the pull in my chest doesn’t let up. It intensifies.
I need to see her.
I step forward and reach for my phone. My thumbs hover over the screen for half a second before instinct takes over.
Me: You awake?
The message is sent, and I wait. It shouldn’t make me nervous, but it does. Something in me needs to know she still wants this. Needs to know last night didn’t scare her off or make her think she crossed some line.
The screen lights up before I can spiral.
Bayleigh: Yes. Are you okay?
Relief hits so fast it knocks the air out of me.
Me: Come over.
There’s a long beat. Not minutes, but long enough that I feel every second of it.
Bayleigh: On my way. Bringing coffee.
I stare at the screen for a few breaths, letting the tension uncoil from my spine. When I look up, Milton and Korbin are both watching me. Milton looks like he already knows what the text said. Korbin looks like he wishes he didn’t.
“You good?” Milton asks, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“She’s coming over,” I say.
Milton’s grin only grows, spreading with that warm, satisfied confidence he carries so easily, while beside him Korbin’s jaw tightens with something that reads not as irritation but as anticipation edged with hope, his restraint stretched tight enough that I can practically feel it vibrating off him.
I don’t bother answering anything else. I walk away before either of them can ask another question.
I go to the front door and crack it open, letting the cold air drift inside. It wakes me up instantly. Clears the fog in my head. Makes the instinct humming under my ribs tighten into something warm and sharp.
A car pulls into the driveway a few minutes later.
My body reacts before my mind can catch up.
I step out onto the porch and watch her climb out, coffee holder balanced in one hand, a white bakery bag tucked under her arm.
Her cheeks are pink from the cold, hair pulled back in a messy knot, sweater sleeves pushed over her knuckles.
She looks soft and shy, like she’s wondering if last night’s date changed anything. It did, just in the best way possible.
She steps closer, and her scent hits me first. Sweet mint and warm green tea. A satisfied omega scent that tells me exactly how much Milton gave her. Instead of jealousy, something proud rises in me. This is how it should be. This is how a pack smells. I want mine layered in there too.
“Hi,” she says, quiet and unsure.
I take the coffees from her so she doesn’t drop them and set them on the ground for a moment. Then I reach up and cup her face in both hands. Her skin heats under my palms as her eyes widen.
I tilt her chin so she is forced to look at me, to read my lips.
“I woke up missing you,” I say. “I’m falling so damn hard for you, Bayleigh Lennox.”
Her breath catches, and her shoulders drop. She melts under my hands like frost in sunlight. She closes her eyes for a second and leans into my touch, trusting me to hold her steady.
When she opens them again, they shine with something fragile and hopeful.
“I was worried being intimate with Milton would change things with us,” she admits.
“You don’t have to choose, Baby. We’re a pack.”
Then I ask the question that has been sitting heavy on my tongue.
“Do you want Korbin, too?”
Her eyes go wide. Her cheeks burn a deep pink. She looks down, then looks up again, then signs one small word.
Yes.
Her fingers shape the word so softly it almost breaks me.
That tiny yes hits with the force of something much bigger.
Something inevitable. Something that has been waiting patiently beneath every look she’s given him, every time her scent sharpened when he entered a room, every moment she feigned she didn’t notice the way his eyes tracked her.
I rest my forehead against hers, breathing in the answer she just gave me. Her scent flickers, blooming bright and sweet between us, and I feel the pack bond pull tight like it just clicked into place. But it won’t be complete until she’s part of our pack as our omega.
I grab the drink carrier, then take her hand and guide her inside.
Milton is already hovering near the hallway, acting like he isn’t waiting to see how she looks, how she smells, how she’s holding herself after last night.
Korbin plays like he doesn’t notice her scent harder than he should, arms crossed, jaw tense, but his eyes betray him. They track her like magnets.
She stops just inside the doorway, caught suddenly between all three of us. The bag shifts in her hands as nerves settle over her shoulders. She looks between us, and the air thickens again, the same way it did in her bedroom yesterday, the same way it always does when instinct takes the wheel.
I squeeze her hand once. She looks up at me.
She signs as she speaks, fingers trembling. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to ruin anything. You three could have any omega. One without any defects.”
I shake my head and pull her close enough her chest brushes mine. “You won’t. You couldn’t. The only thing that hurts is when you think you need to pull away. And you’re not defective, you’re fucking perfect. And if you say some shit like that again I might consider spanking your ass.”
She blushes, and the smell of her slick fills the air at my words. I don’t care how many times I have to remind her or reiterate that she is ours. I want no one else and never will.
Milton steps in first. Not touching her, just close enough that she can probably feel the heat coming off him. His scent lifts, soft grapefruit curling around her like a low hum. His eyes are warm in a way I’ve rarely seen on him.
“You okay, Baby?” he asks, voice low.
She nods, cheeks warming. Her shoulders loosen.
Korbin stands behind her, just far enough for her to move but close enough she knows exactly where he is without turning around. His peach scent sharpens, instinct flaring even though he keeps his expression controlled.
I gesture toward the living room. “Come sit with us.”
She follows, steps light, sleeves slipping over her hands as she hugs her arms close like she’s bracing against something only she can feel.
I settle on the couch and pull her gently onto my lap.
She comes willingly, knees bracketing my hips, thighs closing around me like her body already knows that this is where she belongs.
Her breath fans across my jaw as she leans in, her fingers tracing the corner of my mouth like she’s memorizing it.
She murmurs, voice barely there, “You mean it? All of you?”
My hands slide up her spine, thumbs brushing the soft dip of her waist. “Every word. We told you we wanted to court you. Milton just took you out first. Hell, your parents gave their approval. Were you not there, Pretty Omega? Or did Milton just make you forget all that happened?”
That earns a tiny breath of a laugh from her, but it flickers out as quickly as it appeared. Her shoulders draw inward, her fingers twisting in the fabric of my shirt. When she finally lifts her gaze to mine, there’s something raw in it. Not doubt in me. Doubt in herself.
“I didn’t forget. Not any of it. You were my first. That meant something to me. I just… I don’t want you to think I’m choosing wrong or choosing too fast. I don’t want you to think last night changes what we said about courting.”
She swallows hard, breath trembling. “I guess it’s my past talking. I’ve been rejected before. I’ve been easy to walk away from. And I know this is new, and a lot, and maybe I’m too much. I just needed to hear you say you still want this. That you still want me.”
The confession fractures something in my chest. Not anger. Not jealousy. A deep ache that she even has to wonder.
I bring one hand to her cheek, guiding her to look at me again. Her eyes shine, and it guts me that she thinks she needs to apologize for being desired by more than one of us.
“Baby, there is nothing you could do that would make us change our minds. You didn’t do anything wrong.
You didn’t go too fast. You didn’t pick the wrong person to touch first. Milton didn’t take anything from me.
He didn’t take anything from you either.
He just got the next turn.” I brush my thumb along her cheekbone.
“And being first doesn’t make me more important to you. Being second doesn’t make him less.”
She shakes her head, tears gathering but not falling as she speaks. “I just needed to make sure. I’m trying not to be scared.”
I smile at her, soft and certain. “You’re allowed to be scared. But don’t you dare think you’re too much for us. We’re the ones who asked to court you. You said yes. We’re the ones trying to be worthy of that.”
The words land. I can feel the way her body shifts, the way her scent flares. She leans into my touch, forehead pressing against mine like she’s tethering herself to something solid again.
I hold her. Steady. Patient. Giving her every second she needs.
“Nothing about last night changed anything,” I tell her. “If anything, it made me want you more.”
She pulls back just enough that I can see her face, open and unguarded in a way that guts me.
The vulnerability there hits like a fist to every instinct I have to shield her.
Then she leans in again, forehead resting against mine as she gives me that soft, weightless kiss—barely a brush, more breath than touch, but it sinks deeper than anything else she could’ve done.
Behind her, Milton clears his throat softly, and I gesture toward him so she can see what he’s going to say. She turns her head toward him and Korbin, who’s now stepped up beside him. “Baby… last night didn’t change how any of us feel.”
Korbin adds, voice rough like he fought speaking up, “If anything, it made things clearer.”
Her head sways side to side as she looks at each of them in turn, her breath turning shaky. Her scent spikes again, soft and sweet, carrying that heat-tinged edge that isn’t heat yet but lives right on the outskirts of it.
I lift my hands from her hips, and turn her head back to me. “You’re not stealing us from each other. You’re giving us something to move toward together.”
She swallows, eyes glassy. Then says the one sentence that makes my heart soar. “I choose all of you.”
Milton lets out a breath that sounds like relief wrapped in desire. Korbin’s hands curl into loose fists like he’s holding himself back from reaching for her too fast. And me? Something inside my chest expands so wide it almost hurts.
I tilt her face toward mine and kiss her fully this time. Not claiming. Not taking. Just meeting her where she is. Her lips part softly, and she melts into me, hands bracing on my shoulders, body warming against mine in a way that makes every instinct in me roar with quiet, reverent hunger.
When I pull back, she’s flushed, breathing fast, eyes dark.
Milton shifts closer, settling at her hip. Korbin drops to the floor between my knees, elbows braced casually as he looks up at her like she hung the damn moon.
She glances over her shoulder and down at him, cheeks pinking when he gives her a small smile—rare, but real.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” Korbin says, voice low. “But if you want me too… then that’s enough.”
Her answer is a soft exhale, a nod brushing the side of her face along my cheek. Her scent flickers warm and sure, and the three of us lean toward her without even thinking.
“I want you too.”
Korbin’s shoulders drop, a slow release of tension he probably didn’t even realize he was carrying. Milton shifts closer, hand brushing her thigh without touching fully, offering warmth without crowding her. And me—I feel like I’m finally breathing for the first time.
I press my lips to the side of her throat, right where her pulse beats warm and quick.
“This is our start,” I tell her quietly. “All of us.”
She nods once, leaning into me, her fingers curling in my shirt like she’s holding on to something she doesn’t want to lose.
And for the first time in my life, I feel the urge to bond humming under my skin.