Chapter 12 Willow
Willow
The new normal is suffocating.
One of them is always with me. Always.
I can’t so much as go to the bathroom without Carson sweeping in first, checking the stalls, inspecting the window, as if Finn’s going to crawl through the vents just to say hi.
And he does it with that infuriating smirk, always throwing some smartass comment over his shoulder like, Want me to hold your hand too, peaches?
The first time, I nearly threw my drink at him. Now, it’s just another part of my day. When I finally called and complained to my dad, he smiled through the phone. He actually smiled happily to hear how overbearing they are being.
Hunter’s the worst of them. Silent. Watchful.
Unshakable. When I go for coffee, when I skate, when I so much as step outside, he’s there, looming, moving with me like a shadow I can’t shake.
He doesn’t tease me the way Carson does.
He doesn’t bark orders the way Graham does.
He’s just there. And that should be easier, but it’s not.
Because I feel it when he’s there. That quiet, unwavering presence pressing against my senses, keeping me on edge. As though I’m pack instead of just an omega they’ve been hired to protect.
The first time he locked eyes with me after our argument, I felt it all over again. The almost that still lingers between us, his gaze snaring mine, a hook in my chest—something coiled, restrained, and unwilling to break.
He’s different with me now. Not softer; I don’t think Graham does soft. But aware. Controlled in a way that makes me wonder what would happen if he ever let go.
I shouldn’t be thinking about that. Not about any of them. Especially not when States is coming up and Finn…I swallow hard, forcing my thoughts back to the present.
Daisy skates beside me, nudging me with her hip as we fly around the rink. “Jinx, your guys are making you paranoid with all their hovering.”
I glance toward the edge of the rink, where Graham stands, arms crossed, watching.
Hunter is closer, sitting near the benches, posture relaxed, but his eyes tracking everything.
Carson leans against the railing, twirling his keys around his finger, but I can feel the way he’s listening, waiting, ready.
I roll my eyes. “They’re not my guys.”
Daisy snorts. “Right. Sure. That’s why they look like they’re about to murder anyone who breathes in your direction.”
She’s not wrong.
I exhale through my nose, focusing on my skates. This is just temporary. They’ll eventually back off. Right?
Only, Finn isn’t going to disappear. And when we get to States, they won’t be able to stop him from being there. So it doesn’t feel temporary.
The moment I step outside, the air shifts.
The street is busy, people moving around me, the familiar scent of city life pressing in. But none of it matters. Because I feel it before I even see him.
My stomach twists, my pulse hammering against my ribs as my gaze locks onto the last person I ever expected to see again.
Landon.
Everything inside me freezes. My stomach drops. He looks the same. Exactly the same. The sharp-cut jaw, the light auburn tousled hair, the way his eyes—crystal blue in the sunlight—lock onto mine. It transports me to a time where nothing had changed.
Only everything has.
The connection between us slams into me, violent and visceral.
His scent is familiar, gut-wrenching, unmistakable.
My body reacts before my mind catches up, my omega instincts screaming mine, even as my chest locks up with fury.
My perfume blooming for him. Why the hell did I forget my blockers after my shower?
I feel exposed. Raw. Without a word to Hunter, I can tell he sees it. The moment Landon’s gaze collides with mine, he moves.
Not a single moment of hesitation. One second, I’m staring at the ghost of my past, and the next, Hunter’s mouth is on mine.
I gasp, but there’s no time to react. No time to think. Because Hunter kisses me like he’s claiming something. Like he’s staking his territory. Like the entire damn world is ending, and I am his salvation.
His hand fists in my hair, the other wrapping around my waist, pulling me against him, solid and unrelenting. His scent crashes over me, invading my senses. My fingers grip his jacket, my body betraying me, because I kiss him back.
I shouldn’t. It’s a really bad fucking idea.
But I do.
Because Landon is watching. At least that is what I tell myself as I fall into the feel of his mouth on mine. Before my body refuses to let my head tell me lies.
The kiss is not soft. It isn’t careful. It’s a fucking statement. And it makes me breathless and ready for more as I tremble in his arms. When he finally pulls away, his breath is ragged, his grip still firm, as if he’s fighting himself.
I blink up at him, my mind struggling to catch up, my lips still tingling. “What the hell was that?”
His jaw is tight, his pupils blown wide. I know I won’t be happy about what he’s about to say, just by the way he avoids looking directly at me.
“Protecting you.”