44. Hailey
Chapter 44
Hailey
I t’s quiet, but not the kind of quiet that feels peaceful. It’s the kind that settles into your chest, heavy and unmoving, like the weight of everything that was said last night hasn’t quite lifted. The morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the rumpled blankets, but even the warmth of sunlight can't dispel the chill that’s settled deep in my bones since Finn’s confession.
Finn’s arms had been around me for hours after those words, holding me like he was afraid to let go. I don’t even remember falling asleep, only the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling me into something close to rest.
But now, in the light of day, it feels different. The sunlight streaming through the windows softens the shadows, but it doesn’t do much to ease the ache in my chest. His words still echo in my mind: This isn’t my pack anymore. Staying would break me.
I swallow hard, the memory twisting like a knife. He meant it—I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. The certainty in his tone haunts me. Finn truly believes he has to leave, and the thought creates a hollow space in my chest that expands with each breath .
I glance at him now, his hand steady on my back as we make our way downstairs. He’s here. For now, at least, he’s still here.
My legs are shaky, and every step feels like a reminder of the day before. My cheeks heat at the thought, the ache in my muscles pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts and into the present. Finn helped me again, with his fingers first…and then with his cock. And even during our shared shower.
The memory surfaces unbidden. The feel of him inside me, his hard length filling me, stroking me, coaxing me to a climax so intense it left me trembling—it’s all still so vivid. My core clenches with a sudden warmth, surprising in its intensity.
I can still feel him.
The thought sends a blush creeping up my neck, and I glance at Finn. He’s walking ahead of me now, his bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. He moves with that same easy grace he always has, like nothing in the world could rattle him.
But I know better.
I know what it’s costing him to stay.
I glance at him now as we make our way downstairs, his hand steady on my back. He looks tired, the faint shadows under his eyes betraying an exhaustion he’s trying to hide. Finn has always been steady, always unshakeable, but I can see the cracks now.
The realization that I can read him this well sends a strange flutter through my chest. Just days ago, he was a stranger—someone I feared might harm me. Now, I know the subtle shifts in his expressions, the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he’s hurting, the tension that gathers at the corners of his mouth when he’s hiding something. This intimacy feels precious and terrifying all at once, especially with the knowledge that he plans to leave hanging between us. I find myself cataloging each expression, each gesture, as if I could somehow preserve them against the day he’s no longer here.
“Almost there,” he murmurs, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “You’re doing great. ”
I nod, swallowing hard. My throat feels tight, and I don’t trust myself to speak.
The kitchen feels too big, too open, but Finn’s presence keeps me grounded. He moves around with quiet efficiency, grabbing a plate and piling it with toast and fruit. I sit at the counter, my fingers curling around the edge of the stool as I watch him.
The ache in my belly hasn’t gone away. It’s duller now but still there, simmering under my skin, making me restless. My thighs shift against the stool, trying to ease the tension, but it doesn’t help.
“Here you go,” Finn says, sliding the plate in front of me. “Eat.”
I pick at the toast, nibbling at the edges. My stomach twists at first, but the food helps. Finn leans against the counter across from me, his arms crossed over his chest as he drinks a glass of water.
He doesn’t push, doesn’t say anything, just watches me with that quiet patience of his. It should make me nervous, but it doesn’t. All I can think about is what I’m going to do to fix this.
Because I must.
I have to fix this.
I glance up at Finn, searching his face. He hides it well, but I can see it now. The pain is there, just beneath the surface. And the more I think about him leaving, the more determined I feel to stop it.
When I finish, Finn sets the plate aside and holds out a hand. “Come on,” he says, his voice warm. “Let’s get you some fresh air.”
The living room is brighter than I expected, sunlight spilling across the floor and warming the leather of the couch. It’s quiet except for the faint rustle of papers and the distant hum of a TV program.
Stone is sitting on the edge of the couch, his broad shoulders hunched as he flips through a stack of papers in his hand. His presence is…different from Finn’s. Where Finn feels soft and grounding, Stone feels solid, like an immovable wall .
There’s something compelling about that solidity, something that draws me despite my lingering wariness. I remember the feel of his hands guiding mine on the loom, steady and warm, the careful way he moves around me as if mindful of his own strength. Even the memory of those moments sends a whisper of warmth through my belly. It’s confusing how I can respond to him even while part of me still flinches at sudden movements, still expects punishment for existing in an alpha’s space.
I hesitate in the doorway, unsure if I should say something. Finn leans in, a soft kiss brushing against my neck, and it’s like injecting me with some of his bravery. I have to do this. For myself, but most of all, for Finn.
I take a step inside.
Stone glances up, but I get the impression he’s already been aware that we were there.
“Morning,” he says, that deep voice of his sending vibrations through the air that makes the tiny hairs on my arms tingle.
“Morning,” I manage.
His gaze lingers on me for a moment, like he’s assessing me, and then he gestures to the couch. “Do you want to sit? I can move over.”
I glance at Finn, who gives me a small smile, and then I move toward the couch. Stone shifts slightly to make room, movements awkward like his muscles are all stiff and painful.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice softer now. But I catch the way his nostrils flare.
A lump forms in my throat. We’d showered with scent-blocking soap. I hope that’s enough.
My fingers curl into the hem of my shirt. “Okay,” I say finally. “Just…tired.”
Stone nods, his eyes steady on mine. “That’s normal. Pre-heat takes a lot out of you, even when it’s still building.”
The way he says it—calm, matter-of-fact—makes me feel a little less self-conscious. Like it’s okay to feel this way .
“You’re stronger than most would be,” he says after a moment, his voice quieter now.
I blink at him, surprised. “I am?”
Stone sets the papers aside, leaning forward slightly. “Most omegas would be miserable by now,” he continues, tone even. “But you’re here.” He gestures around the room, his eyes holding mine. “You’re trying, even when it’s hard. That takes strength.”
My chest tightens, and I look down, unsure how to respond. The words settle over me like a warm blanket, their weight unfamiliar but not unwelcome.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
Stone nods, leaning back again. “Just saying what I see.”
The quiet between us isn’t uncomfortable. It feels…steady. Safe.
After a few minutes, Stone clears his throat, glancing toward the stairs. “Have you adjusted the nest yet?”
I blink at him, confused. “The nest?”
He nods. “Finn said you haven’t unpacked the new blankets yet. If you want, I can grab them for you.”
I blink in surprise, then nod slowly. “Yeah. We unpacked everything yesterday.”
There’s a beat of silence as the words sink in, and I catch the faintest shift in his expression—his lips press together briefly, his jaw tightening before he schools his features again.
“Oh,” he says simply. “Good.”
But there’s something in the way he says it, a quiet weight that makes me feel like I’m missing something.
Finn must notice it too, because he clears his throat. “It’s coming together. Hailey’s been settling in.”
Stone nods, but his gaze drops for a moment, his fingers brushing against the edge of the notepad beside him.
After a moment, he looks back up, his expression softening. “Do you…need anything else for it? Either of you?” His voice is ca utious, measured, like he’s testing the waters. “Something from me or Jax, maybe?”
I glance at Finn, uncertain. The question throws me off, and I don’t quite understand what he’s offering.
Finn’s lips twitch into a faint smile. “That might not be a bad idea,” he says, eyes warm as they flick to me. “It’d help balance the scents. Make it feel more…complete.”
I swallow hard, searching his gaze, searching for the pain. He hides it well. And that only makes it worse. However am I going to make it better?
Stone’s gaze shifts back to me, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—hope, maybe, or anticipation. I hesitate, trying to remember what we were talking about.
“I have some stuff we could add to the nest.” Stone’s gaze is like thick honey as he watches me.
The words catch me off guard. Nest-building still feels new, foreign. But something about the way he says it, the quiet sincerity in his tone, makes me nod. “Okay.”
The change in Stone is immediate. His entire posture shifts, his shoulders straightening, the tension melting away like he’s just been handed something precious. His eyes brighten with a quiet excitement, the kind that feels almost infectious, and his lips part slightly as though he’s about to say something but can’t quite find the words.
For a moment, I just watch him, blinking in surprise. It’s like all the heaviness that clung to the room just moments ago has been lifted, swept away by that flicker of hope in his expression.
But it’s so sudden, so unexpected, it leaves me reeling.
Before I can fully process it, Stone is already on his feet. “Meet you at the nest,” he says, words hurried like he can’t get them out fast enough.
My mouth opens to respond, but he’s already moving, his long strides carrying him out of the room. The sound of his feet hitting the stairs echoes back to us, each step reverberating through the quiet house. He takes the stairs two at a time, the creak of the wood loud and purposeful, and I can’t help but blink after him, startled by the sudden burst of energy.
Finn chuckles softly beside me, leaning a hip against the back of the couch. His voice pulls my attention back to him, grounding me. “That’s Stone for you,” he murmurs, his tone warm and amused.
I glance at him, still a little startled. “What’s he doing?”
Finn shrugs, his green eyes glinting with something I can’t quite place. “You’ll see.”
I don’t move right away. My hands rest in my lap, fingers absently twisting the hem of my shirt as I stare at the empty doorway Stone just disappeared through. The echo of his eager footsteps fades, leaving behind a silence that seems to pulse with anticipation. The lightness of his departure contrasts so sharply with the weight in my chest that I don’t know how to feel. The pre-heat simmers under my skin, making me hypersensitive to everything—the brush of fabric against my thighs, the subtle shift in air currents, the lingering notes of Stone’s scent that he’s left behind. Each sensation feels like a thread pulling me in different directions.
Because I know what this is.
Stone is trying. He’s trying to help and make me feel welcome, and I want to let him. I really do. But it’s hard to balance the warmth of his gesture with the ache that still lingers inside me.
Finn doesn’t push me to move. He just waits, his presence beside me steady, unshakable.
Finally, I take a deep breath and stand, my legs still a little shaky. Finn follows silently, his hand brushing lightly against my back as we head toward the stairs.
By the time we reach the nest room, Stone appears in the doorway. His arms are full—a crumpled pile of shirts held against his chest.
The fabric looks soft and worn, the kind of shirts you wear over and over because they’re too comfortable to give up. Even from where I sit, I can catch the scent wafting toward me—rich and earthy pine. The smell wraps around me, sinking into my skin, and my fingers twitch slightly, the urge to bury myself in it catching me off guard.
Stone pauses in the doorway, his gaze flicking between me and Finn like he’s gauging our reactions. There’s a hesitance in his stance now, a pause that feels almost vulnerable, like he’s not sure if this is the right thing to do.
The fact makes something soften in me. This big, strong alpha looking so vulnerable because of me.
“I…have these,” he says finally, stepping into the room. His voice is quieter now, almost cautious.
He sets the pile down beside the nest, the shirts spilling over the edge in a soft, rumpled heap.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d want,” he admits, tone low. “But these…they’re all worn. They’ll hold my scent.”
I stare at the pile, my chest tightening. The smell is intoxicating, and it’s a conscious fight not to grab them and press my face right into the middle of the pile. My fingers curl into the edge of the blanket beneath me, my throat tight as I try to process the sudden flood of emotions.
Finn steps closer, crouching beside the nest. He picks up a shirt, holding it up to his nose with a small, almost hidden smile.
“Good call,” he says easily, gray eyes glinting with amusement. But even with that, I know him enough now to see that hint of pain he’s hiding far too well. And I remember my promise. I’ll save myself. And I’ll save him.
Stone glances at him, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. But his gaze shifts back to me almost immediately, amber eyes scanning my face.
“Is that okay?” he asks, his voice quieter now.
There’s something cautious in the way he asks, like he’s bracing himself for rejection .
This alpha who could snap me in two or have me on my knees in front of him with a simple alpha command is…nervous.
I swallow hard, nodding quickly. “Yeah,” I whisper. “It’s…nice.”
Something in his expression softens at my words. His shoulders relax, and for a moment, he looks almost proud. He shifts closer to the nest but pauses there as though he’s still testing the boundaries of the moment. Finn crouches beside him, pulling one of the shirts from the pile, and then glances at me.
“Come on,” Finn says gently, patting the space beside him.
I hesitate, but the quiet anticipation in Stone’s expression pulls me forward. I settle onto the floor, folding my legs beneath me, and reach out hesitantly toward the pile of shirts. Just touching the first shirt sends a delicious shiver through me that I hope neither of them notices.
Finn takes the lead, weaving the first shirt into the corner of the nest, tucking it carefully into the blankets and smoothing it out with practiced ease. Stone watches him for a moment, his brows furrowing slightly in concentration, and then he picks up a shirt of his own.
His hands are big, broad and strong, but the way he handles the fabric is almost reverent. He folds the shirt in half, running his fingers over the seams to flatten them, before nestling it into the side of the nest. He takes his time, as though he’s trying to make sure everything fits just right.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye, fascinated. Stone is so big, his presence filling the room, but he handles the shirts like they’re something fragile, something that deserves his full attention. His jaw is tight, his brows furrowed, and every so often, I catch the way his chest rises and falls in deep, controlled breaths, like he’s holding something back.
Finn notices too. “You’re really into this,” he teases softly, his voice light. And then his eyes cloud over, like a shadow settles there. “Just like you used to be. ”
Stone’s head snaps up. The change in his expression is so immediate, so tender, it makes my breath catch. He sets aside the fabric in his hand, his movements deliberate, and then reaches out to gently cup Finn’s face. His thumb strokes Finn’s cheekbone, a tender gesture that sends warmth curling in the pit of my belly.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion. “Some things never change. Some things are…always there.” His eyes darken as he leans closer to Finn. “Like how much I love taking care of you, Finn.”
My heart stutters as I watch him press a soft kiss to Finn’s forehead. “Always have. Always will.”
Finn closes his eyes, leaning into the touch, a small sigh escaping his lips. And I see something shift in him. The shadow that had settled over him seems to lift, just a little, and a faint pink creeps up the back of his neck.
There’s something between them. Something deep and raw and unspoken.
Stone clears his throat, shifting back toward the pile of shirts. His voice is quieter now, but there’s a noticeable edge to it, like he’s trying to regain control. “This one here should be right.”
Finn doesn’t say anything, but I see the way his fingers brush over the fabric Stone hands him, lingering just a little longer than necessary.
We keep working, each of us adding a piece to the nest, and the scent begins to shift around us. Stone’s musk blends into the space slowly, layering over Finn’s lighter tones and weaving into the blankets like it belongs there. It’s rich and grounding, warm in a way that feels almost protective, and I find myself leaning a little closer to the nest without meaning to.
But my focus isn’t on the nest anymore.
It’s on Finn.
He doesn’t see it, not yet, but I do.
The way Stone looks at him, the way he touched him—it was so careful, so controlled, like he was handling something fragile and precious. And Finn let him. For all his pain, for all the walls he’s built around himself, he leaned into Stone’s touch. He let himself be cared for, even if just for a moment.
There’s love there.
It’s not gone.
It’s been buried under guilt and hurt and time, but as I sit here, watching them, I realize it’s not broken. Not really.
And the first piece clicks into place.
Finn thinks he’s already lost everything. He thinks leaving is the only way to find peace. But he’s wrong.
Stone still loves him. And maybe just maybe, Finn still loves Stone too.
I swallow hard, my fingers curling into one of the shirts in my lap. The ache in my chest is still there, but now, it’s joined by something else. A flicker of hope.
Because maybe I can’t fix this on my own. But I can try.
I glance between them, my heart pounding in my chest. If Finn can’t see it yet, then I’ll just have to show him.
The thought feels like a quiet promise, grounding me even as the weight of everything presses down. My fingers tighten around the shirt in my lap, the fabric soft and warm against my skin. It smells like Stone—rich and earthy, grounding and steady. And as the scent rises, curling around me like smoke, something inside me stirs.
It’s subtle at first, just an awareness of the heat simmering under my skin. But then it grows, spreading like a slow burn through my belly and thighs. I shift slightly, the ache in my body making itself known again, and I press the shirt to my face without thinking.
The moment his scent fully hits me, something unravels.
My thighs press together, my body reacting before my mind can catch up, and a soft gasp slips from my lips before I can stop it. The sharp, earthy musk of him is intoxicating, wrapping around me like a cocoon, and I close my eyes, letting it settle over me .
When I open them again, Stone’s gaze is locked on mine.
He doesn’t look away this time.
His amber eyes burn with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs. His chest is rising and falling a little faster now, the controlled breaths from earlier slipping just slightly. I can’t help but notice the way his muscles tense, the way his lips part like he’s about to say something but holds back.
Finn shifts beside me, his shoulder brushing mine as he glances between us. He leans closer, his voice low enough that only I should be able to hear.
“I think she likes it,” Finn whispers, his tone teasing but warm.
Stone’s gaze doesn’t waver. If anything, the heat in his eyes deepens, darkens, and when he speaks, his voice is low and rough, laced with something possessive that makes my stomach flip.
“Good,” he says simply.
The single word— Good —settles over me like a command, sinking into my skin and wrapping around my chest. It’s not just the sound of it; it’s the weight behind it, the raw, unfiltered want in his voice that makes my body tremble.
My thighs clench again, instinctive and uncontrollable, the ache low in my belly flaring hotter. It’s impossible to ignore the way he notices, the way his nostrils flare slightly as though he can scent the shift in me, the quiet need I can’t fully hide.
And then I see it.
The thick ridge of his cock straining against the front of his sweatpants. It twitches sharply, the fabric jerking again as though it’s barely containing him. The stretch of the fabric is extensive and the sheer size of him sends a rush of heat straight to my core. My pulse pounds so loudly in my ears that I almost miss the low sound that rumbles from his chest.
It’s not quite a growl, but it’s close.
The deep, primal noise vibrates through the air, and my body reacts before my mind does. My thighs press together harder, my fingers tightening on the shirt as a soft, involuntary whimper escapes my lips.
Stone’s amber eyes seem like they burn liquid gold, and for a moment, the weight of his gaze makes my entire body feel like it’s on fire. But then his focus shifts—slowly, deliberately—and his attention settles on Finn.
The change is subtle at first, but it’s enough to make the room feel smaller, the tension sharper. Finn is quiet beside me, but I can see the way his body stiffens, his gaze flicking to Stone with a mixture of wariness and something deeper.
Stone leans forward slightly, his massive frame looming closer, and his gaze softens—not enough to lose its intensity, but enough to make my pulse still hammer with the weight of it.
“You feel it too,” he says, his voice low and rough, but it’s not directed at me.
Finn doesn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightens, and I can see the way his hands curl slightly into fists on his thighs as he fights whatever this is. But the tension between them is almost suffocating, and I feel like an intruder in a moment that isn’t entirely mine.
When Finn finally speaks, his voice is quieter than I expect, but there’s an edge to it that cuts through the air like a blade. “Don’t act like this changes anything.”
Stone exhales slowly, his nostrils flaring as though he’s forcing himself to stay calm. “It changes everything,” he murmurs, his tone steady but firm. “You know it does.”
Finn’s lips press into a thin line, and his gaze flicks away, but not before I catch the faintest hint of color creeping up his neck again.
Stone shifts closer, his hand moving to rest on the edge of the nest near Finn’s knee. The motion is deliberate, and the sheer size of him next to Finn makes him seem even larger, more imposing.
“You’re still mine,” Stone says quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “No matter how much you try to push me away. ”
Finn’s breath catches, and I see his fingers twitch slightly, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out.
“I’m not—” Finn starts, but the words falter, and his shoulders slump just slightly, the tension in his body bleeding out like a balloon losing air.
Stone takes the opening, his hand moving just a fraction closer, his thumb brushing against Finn’s knee. The touch is barely there, but the way Finn freezes makes it feel monumental.
“You don’t have to forgive me yet,” Stone says softly, his voice so low it feels like a rumble in my chest. “But you can’t deny this. Us.”
Finn’s eyes close briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s something raw and vulnerable in his expression that makes my throat tighten.
“You’re such a bastard,” Finn mutters, but there’s no heat behind the words. His hand moves, hesitating for a moment before finally resting over Stone’s, his fingers curling just slightly to hold him in place.
The air between them feels electric, crackling with something, and I realize my own breathing has gone shallow, my body caught in the middle of their intensity.
Stone’s gaze flicks to me briefly, like he’s reminding himself that I’m still here, but his focus quickly returns to Finn.
“We’re a pack,” Stone says firmly, his voice steady but no less intense. “That hasn’t changed.”
Finn doesn’t respond immediately, but the way his hand tightens over Stone’s speaks volumes.
I sit frozen, unsure of what to do or say, and the tension in the room feels like it’s pressing down on me from all sides. My fingers clutch the edge of the shirt, my chest rising and falling as I try to process the sheer weight of the moment.
When Stone finally leans back, his hand slips away from Finn’s as he shifts to his feet. The tension doesn’t break—it lingers, heavy and electric, wrapping itself around the three of us like a binding thread.
He moves toward the doorway and pauses, one hand gripping the frame like he’s steadying himself. His amber eyes are still locked on us, heavy with something primal and unspoken.
Finn clears his throat softly, glancing at me, and his expression shifts just slightly. The sharp edges soften, replaced by something warmer, and his shoulder brushes against mine as he leans closer.
“You’re starting to get it,” Finn murmurs, his voice gentle but sure.
I glance at him, confused. “Get what?”
He smiles faintly, leaning back into the nest. “What it means to be a part of a pack.”