Chapter 22 Naomi
Chapter twenty-two
Naomi
I get there a few minutes early.
I arrive at the café fifteen minutes early, my boots leaving wet prints on the mat as I step inside.
The café’s descenter hums overhead, a soft white noise under the murmur of voices and milk-steaming. It smells like espresso and absolutely no pheromones. At least we'll be able to have an actual conversation without biology hijacking our brains.
Meaning I won't be fighting the urge to drag them somewhere private.
The bell rings, it's them. Uh, didn't expect them to arrive early as well.
They step in together, snow still dusting their shoulders. My stomach does a triple axel with a messy landing.
Silas comes first, in a dark Henley and worn leather jacket. Liam’s behind him in a charcoal crewneck and coat, hair slightly mussed. Felix brings up the rear in a vintage band tee under an open flannel and denim jacket, hands shoved in his pockets.
Their eyes find me.
For a heartbeat, all four of us just… freeze. Western showdown, but with hearts on the line.
Silas moves first.
He crosses the room with that determined, cut-through-traffic stride of his and pulls out the chair across from me. Liam takes the one to his left. Felix drops into the one to his right.
For a moment, no one talks. Liam stares at the table like it might start conducting the meeting itself.
“So,” Silas says finally, drumming his fingers once. “This is awkward as hell.”
A startled laugh escapes me. “Yeah. That tracks.”
“Should we order before we dive into… everything?” Felix asks, glancing toward the counter. “Or are we raw-dogging this convo?”
“Felix,” Liam mutters, but there’s the faintest thread of fondness in it.
The waitress appears like she’s been waiting for her cue. “Hey, guys. Usuals?”
“Yeah, thanks, Em,” Felix says, some of his normal warmth flickering back. “Honey lavender latte.”
“Triple-shot Americano,” Silas adds.
“Earl Grey, please,” Liam says.
Emma looks at me, friendly. “What would you like?”
“Cappuccino please. Oat milk, extra shot,” I say.
She nods and disappears, leaving us with our mutual discomfort.
I clear my throat. Let's try to at least be professional and talk about the game. “Thank you for coming. I appreciate you making the time.”
“Obviously, beyond the game, we need to discuss what happened in the chalet,” Silas says, mercifully direct.
“I figured,” I echo, my fingers tightening around my cup.
Liam’s hand taps once against the table, then stills. “Can I start?”
I nod.
He folds his hands. “I’ve been digging into scent compatibility studies.”
My shoulders tense despite myself.
“Scent matches are rare and considered the love ideal,” he continues. “Everybody knows that. But what many people don't know is that there are documented cases of people mistaking high scent compatibility for an actual match, because they're so desperate to find their scent match."
My brows knit. Felix leans in. “Translation: we talked the hell out of this.” His mouth twists.
“We weren’t lying when we said we were in love with our ex.
We were. Her scent knocked us on our asses.
But what happened with you—” he gestures between us, “—it makes that feel like a candle next to a forest fire.”
Silas huffs a humorless breath. “And even ‘forest fire’ doesn’t quite cover it.” His jaw works. “Your scent hits at… I don’t even know, five times the strength? Ten? Our nervous system went berserk."
Heat crawls up my neck. "You know, I noticed that too.
I thought my ex was my true scent match.
I was convinced. Everyone was." My throat tightens.
"But what I feel with you three is... so much more intense.
And I thought what I had with him was already.
.." I swallow. "I was pretty gone for him back then. "
Something loosens around their shoulders when I say "so much more intense", but then they go a little stiff when I mention how smitten I’d been with my ex.
Are they… jealous? Actually jealous of someone I dated over a decade ago? I wonder how they would react without the descenter…
Silas exhales hard through his nose. “So, yeah. That brings us to now.” He spreads his hands slightly. “This thing between us is… special. And we have absolutely no idea how to navigate it.”
Emma swoops back in with a tray, oblivious to the emotional minefield she’s interrupting. “Triple-shot Americano, honey lavender latte, Earl Grey, and oat cappuccino.” She distributes drinks with a flourish. “Holler if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, Em,” they say in rough unison.
We all grab our mugs at the same time.
“I’m scared,” I say into mine, not bothering to dress it up.
Felix’s gaze snaps to me, warm and earnest. “We are too,” he admits. “But honestly? If we weren’t, I’d worry. You don’t get this kind of… lightning, without exposing yourself to a storm."
“But we live in different worlds,” I say. “I’m in New York. You’re here. You have your lives. I have mine.”
Silas smirks. “Implying we’re too small-town for a big-city lawyer?”
My stomach drops. "Don't even start with that," I say, shooting him a look. "Of course, that's not what I meant. At all. It's just... logistics."
Liam tips his head. “You work for Mia,” he says. “She's in here Lakeview most of the year. That's reason enough to come as often as you want."
“I still can’t build a relationship on sporadic visits.” My chest tightens.
"We could come during off-season," Felix suggests. "You visit when you can, we come to the city. We start slow, see how it develops."
“Even in New York, I’m barely home as I travel constantly for work. You'd be waiting around while I fly to depositions and client meetings… You deserve more than someone squeezing you in."
Silas’s mouth flattens. “Relationships work when people want them to work, even with obstacles. Are you just trying to find reasons to avoid giving this a shot?"
“That’s not what I said.” I press my fingertips to my temple for a second, then drop my hand.
“I mean, we barely know each other. Yes, we’re scent matches, but what do we actually have in common besides really digging each other's smell? We’ve had, what, about four days together?
And the circumstances were exceptional.. .”
A beat of silence. Felix's jaw tightens, Silas' expression hardens.
“We seemed to have plenty in common without scents,” Liam says quietly. “We laughed. We teamed up in Monopoly. We had an epic snowball fight… among other things.”
My mouth twists. “I can’t deny that.” I scrub my thumb along the cardboard sleeve of my cup. “But I’ve had… about twenty-four hours of real processing time. That’s not enough to commit to a potential life-altering decision."
Another silence, this one heavier.
“Fine,” Silas says, voice going cool. “Let’s talk business then."
“Yes. The game—”
“We’ll play,” he cuts in.
I blink. “You will?”
“Yes,” Liam says. “All three of us. Full participation."
“Oh.” My hand flies to my chest. “Oh. That’s… that’s amazing. Thank you. You have no idea how much that—”
Silas’s mouth curls, not quite a smile. “That seems like a big weight off your shoulders.”
I wince at the edge in his tone. “It is,” I say honestly. “That’s the whole reason I came to Lakeview in the first place. Making sure you’d play was my job. Now I can… actually turn my attention to everything else on fire.”
“Everything else,” he repeats.
“Yes,” I say slowly. “I have a Seattle franchise meeting in three days. I need to—”
“We get it.” Silas cuts me off. “You have important work. You’re needed in boardrooms, and now that we’ve agreed to play, you can check us off your list. You'll be on a plane today or tomorrow, and Lakeview will just become a quaint little adventure you look back on with fondness.”
“That's not true and—" I stop, heat flaring in my chest. "You know what? What if I do? My job is high stakes. If I screw up, people lose jobs, entire projects fall apart. This isn’t about you.”
“Isn’t it?” Liam’s voice is quiet, but there’s an edge I’ve never heard before. “You go back to sixteen-hour days. ‘I’ll think about this relationship’ turns into ‘maybe when I’m less busy,’ which turns into never” His gaze meets mine, sad.
My jaw snaps shut.
Felix leans forward, looking like a wounded Golden Retriever. "When's the last time you did something just because you wanted to? Not for your career… for yourself."
“This isn’t about want,” I say, looking away.
“Bullshit,” Silas says, flat. “This is entirely about want. And fear.” His eyes burn into mine. “You want us. You know you do. But you’re terrified of not feeling in control.”
I flinch. “You—You don’t know that.”
“I know you let go enough to cum at least three times with us,” he fires back. My face goes hot. “You seemed a hell of a lot more open to the idea of an 'us' then than you are now.”
“Silas,” I whisper. “Stop.”
"Sure thing,” he shoves his chair back. "This is going nowhere, anyway. Either you want to give this a shot or you don't. But I won't sit here while you rationalize your way out of something that could be incredible just because you're scared."
He tosses a few bills onto the table without looking at the total and stalks out. The bell over the door jingles cheerfully as it swings shut behind him.
The silence he leaves behind feels like a vacuum.
Liam exhales slowly, setting his tea down with care.
“He shouldn’t have said it like that,” he says, gaze on the table.
“But he’s not wrong.” He looks up, and the gentleness in his eyes hurts more than Silas’s anger.
“You need to figure out what you want, Naomi. Not just what’s safest. And running away won’t protect you, it'll just guarantee you never become the person you could've been.”
Then, he stands and heads out.
The bell rings again.
Felix lingers.
He studies me for a long moment, something complicated moving behind his eyes.
“I meant what I said about being scared,” he says, voice rough. “We are. And if, after really thinking about it, you decide work is what you want most… we’ll deal. You’re allowed to choose your life.”
My throat is too tight to answer.
“But if you’re using work to hide…” He swallows. “Anyway, wherever you go, I hope you’re really honest with yourself. That’s all.”
He gives me one last look… soft, hopeful, hurting… and then he’s gone too.
The bell chimes a third time, and I sit there with four cups, too much cash, and my heart somewhere down around my boots.