Chapter 19 Sharon #3
He turns his head, and his lips find mine in the darkness of the hotel room.
The kiss is soft and slow and patient, like he has all the time in the world and he's willing to spend it all on just kissing me.
My hands find their way to his chest, and I can feel his heartbeat beneath my palms, fast and steady and real.
When he pulls back, we're both breathing a little harder than we were before.
His forehead rests against mine. "I need to go.
Cassian's going to lose his mind if I don't come back to the house soon.
Jett's probably already planning something.
But I wanted to make sure you were okay.
I wanted to make sure you knew that you're not alone in any of this. You're never going to be alone again."
"I know, and I actually do know that now. For the first time since I arrived in Pine Hollow, I genuinely understand that I'm not carrying this alone. Thank you. For everything. For protecting me. For believing in me. For choosing me."
He leaves with one more kiss pressed to my forehead, and I'm left alone in my hotel room with the scent of sandalwood and metal clinging to my clothes and my thoughts spiraling in the best possible way.
I pull out my phone and text the group chat which Cassian added me to earlier today: "Tangle Peak's wedding is now officially the wedding of the year.
And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for three alphas who apparently think I'm worth their time and energy and pack status.
Life is weird and wonderful and I'm actually really happy right now. "
Cassian's response comes through first: "Told you we'd take care of it. Now get some sleep. You've got the wedding of the year to plan."
Jett: "Welcome to the pack, Sharon. It gets weirder and more wonderful from here. Just wait until you see what we're planning."
Pine: "Goodnight, beautiful."
I fall asleep with my phone in my hand and a smile on my face, knowing that whatever comes next, I'm not facing it alone anymore. The universe threw everything it had at me, and I survived. More than survived, actually. I thrived.
And now I get to plan the wedding of the year with three alphas at my back and a phoenix tattoo design waiting for me whenever I'm ready to make it permanent.Sharon
The hotel room looks even smaller in the morning light.
I lie there staring at the ceiling like it's personally responsible for my emotional instability, counting the little divots in the plaster until I lose count at seventeen.
Again. The air conditioner hums its judgmental hum somewhere to my left, and I can hear someone in the room next door running water through pipes that sound like they're older than I am.
The sheets smell like industrial detergent and loneliness. Also maybe a hint of the lavender spray the cleaning staff uses to mask the scent of a thousand previous guests. It's not working.
I grab my phone off the nightstand and stare at Pine's contact information like it holds the answers to questions I'm not ready to ask.
My thumb hovers over his name. I pull it back.
I hover again. This is pathetic. I am a grown woman who can make a simple phone call without having an existential crisis about it.
I press call before I can talk myself out of it.
He answers on the second ring in that soft, low voice that should honestly be illegal. "Hey."
My brain short circuits for half a second because apparently that's what we're doing now.
"Hi," I say, staring at the beige curtains like they're a witness to my choices.
They're ugly curtains. Beige with a pattern that might be flowers or might be abstract blobs.
"Weird question. Do you mind if I come over later?
The hotel's starting to feel like a dentist's waiting room but with worse lighting. "
He doesn't even hesitate. "Come whenever you want. You never have to ask."
Which is a dangerous and reckless thing to tell me, because I imprint on comfort like a baby duck. I almost tell him that. Instead, I thank him and hang up and lie there staring at those ugly curtains for another ten minutes while my heart does complicated things in my chest.
I go to the office first because I enjoy pretending I'm a functional adult.
The drive takes me through Pine Hollow's main street, past the bakery that always smells like cinnamon even from outside, past the hardware store with the crooked sign that says "Pine Hardware" in faded red letters.
The mountains loom around the town like protective walls, their peaks dusted with early snow that catches the morning light and turns it sharp and white and almost painful to look at.
The air is cold enough that I can see my breath when I get out of the car. My coat is not warm enough for this. It's a nice coat, but it was purchased for city winters where you walk from heated building to heated car to heated building. Mountain winters are a different beast entirely.
I push through the door to our office, and the warmth hits me like a wall. Jessica hands me a coffee like she's preparing me for a battle, and the mug is warm against my cold fingers.
I pull up my email and stare at the sixty-three unread messages like they're a personal attack.
This lasts six minutes before I check my phone again like a lovesick teenager powering a data plan by sheer neediness.
The screen lights up with nothing. No messages.
Just the time staring back at me like it knows exactly what I'm doing.
"You going over there tonight?" Jessica asks.
I take a slow, measured breath and pretend I'm not already thinking about which sweater is the softest one I own. The blue one, probably. Or maybe the gray one with the cowl neck. "Maybe."
"Uh-huh."
She doesn't say anything else and I hate her a little for being right. I turn back to my laptop and respond to the table linen email with what I hope is professional efficiency.
The rest of the workday crawls by in a blur of spreadsheets and vendor emails.
I eat a sandwich at my desk that tastes like cardboard and regret.
The turkey is dry and the lettuce is wilted and I'm pretty sure the mustard is three days past its prime, but I eat it anyway because the alternative is going out into the cold again.
Jessica brings me another coffee around three and doesn't say a word, but her smile says plenty. It's the kind of smile that says "I know what you're doing and I support you but I'm also going to tease you about it later." I accept the coffee with as much dignity as I can muster.
My phone buzzes. I grab it so fast I nearly knock over my coffee.
It's Pine. "Door's unlocked if you want to come straight over after work."
I stare at the message like it's written in code. Jessica looks over and grins. I put my phone face down on my desk with intense focus.
By the time I'm driving to the Burnside house after work, I've given up the charade.
The roads wind through Pine Hollow like they're in no particular hurry, past houses with smoke curling from chimneys and yards full of bare trees.
Someone has put up Christmas lights already even though it's barely past Thanksgiving.
They blink red and green in the growing darkness.
The sky is turning that particular shade of purple that happens right before dark, the mountains going black against it. The air smells like wood smoke and cold when I crack my window, and I can taste winter on the back of my tongue, sharp and clean.
I pull into the driveway and sit there for a moment with my hands on the steering wheel. The house glows warm from inside, light spilling out onto the porch. I can see movement through the windows, shapes passing by.
I knock even though I know they heard the car. Pine told me the door was unlocked but knocking feels safer somehow, like I'm not just walking into their space uninvited. My knuckles rap against the solid wood door twice, and I can hear footsteps on hardwood getting closer.
Cassian opens the door with that easy grin that melts my bones a little. "There she is."
It is deeply unfair that alphas get to look like that while I look like I've survived three emotional hurricanes in a trench coat. Nobody should have eyes that color. It's excessive.
The house smells warm. Safe. Like sandalwood and something sweet baking and whatever cologne Jett pretends he doesn't wear.
The scent hits me the second I step inside, wrapping around me like a blanket I didn't know I needed.
There's vanilla in there too, and brown sugar, and underneath it all that distinct alpha scent that makes my hindbrain purr like a cat in a sunbeam.
I walk in and Cassian takes my bag like it's a natural instinct.
His fingers brush mine when he lifts the strap off my shoulder and I pretend that doesn't send a little spark up my arm.
The entryway is neat but lived in, with shoes lined up by the door and jackets hanging on hooks.
There's a small table with keys scattered across it and a lamp that casts warm yellow light across the walls.
Jett pokes his head over the back of the couch with a smirk. His dark hair falls across his forehead and he's got that look in his eyes like he's about to say something that will make me want to throw a pillow at him.
"You brought work?" he asks, spotting my folders before Cassian even has a chance to set my bag down.
“Feels like it,” I say, toeing off my shoes and lining them up next to theirs.
I roll my eyes and walk toward the couch.
The living room is warm and slightly dimmed, the overhead lights off in favor of a few lamps scattered around the space.
The cushions are soft and well worn, the kind that sink in just right when you sit down.
There's a throw blanket draped over the arm, cream colored and impossibly soft when I brush my fingers against it without thinking.
Before I can get comfortable, Pine walks in from the hallway. His footsteps are quiet against the floor, and he's carrying something folded in his hands. He doesn't say anything. He just hands me one of his hoodies like it belongs to me and not to him.
The fabric is navy blue and worn soft with washing. It smells like him, like pine and something clean and comforting that I can't quite name but that my brain immediately files under "safe."
I don't even think. I just slip it on.
The sleeves are too long, and I have to roll them up twice.
The hem falls past my hips and covers half my thighs.
The second it's over my shoulders, all three of them look ten percent calmer.
Their postures shift just slightly, the tension in their shoulders easing like someone turned down a dial I didn't know was running.
I pretend I don't notice, but I notice everything.
The way Cassian's grin goes softer around the edges.
The way Jett's smirk turns into something warmer, less teasing.
The way Pine's eyes track over me like he's confirming something to himself, like he's checking off a box that says "safe" and "here" and "ours. "
I sit down and tuck my legs under me. The couch makes a soft sound when I settle in.
Cassian drops down next to me close enough that his thigh presses against mine, and I can feel the warmth of him through my jeans.
Jett shifts over to make more room, and Pine claims the other side, his arm coming up to rest along the back of the couch behind my shoulders.
We end up watching a movie I don't fully follow because I'm too aware of Pine's thigh brushing mine and Cassian's warmth seeping through the fabric of my jeans like a slow burn.
The television flickers with car chases and explosions I barely register.
Someone is trying to save the world or destroy it, I'm not entirely sure which.
Jett keeps stealing popcorn out of the bowl in my lap, which should be annoying but somehow is not.
His fingers brush against mine every few kernels and the contact sends little sparks up my arm that I am absolutely not thinking about.
The popcorn is buttery and still warm, and I eat it without really tasting it.
The living room is dim except for the glow from the screen.
There are pictures on the walls I can barely make out in the low light, frames that probably hold memories I don't know yet.
A bookshelf in the corner overflows with paperbacks and hardcovers stacked horizontally on top of the vertical rows.
The coffee table has water rings on it that someone tried to polish out but gave up halfway through.
At some point I lean my head against Pine. His shoulder is solid and warm and smells like safety. He shifts slightly to make room for me, his arm coming down from the back of the couch to wrap around my shoulders. At no point does anyone comment on it.
The movie ends and another one starts. We don't move. Cassian gets up at some point and comes back with water glasses and a plate of cookies that taste like chocolate and something else I can't identify. Maybe espresso. I eat three of them and Jett eats five.
When I leave that night, Pine walks me out and kisses my cheek like it's the most natural thing in the world. His lips linger just a fraction of a second too long, warm and soft against my skin. My knees remind me that gravity exists and I am subject to its laws.
The night air is cold against my face after the warmth of the house.
The porch light casts long shadows across the driveway and my breath comes out in small clouds.
I can hear crickets somewhere in the distance even though it's too cold for them, and the wind rustles through the trees that surround the property.
"Drive safe," he says, his hands in his pockets, his eyes soft in the dim light.
"Always do," I say, which is a lie. I'm a decent driver but not a particularly careful one.
He grins like he knows. "Text me when you're back at the hotel."
I promise I will and I mean it. I get in my car, and he waits on the porch until I'm pulling out of the driveway. I watch him in the rearview mirror until I turn onto the main road and he disappears from view.
Sometimes the universe throws you in the right direction harder than you expect.
I know Pine invited me over to get to know me, and I ended up getting to know his brothers too.
They didn’t try to get me to stay and the night was comfortable.
I smile as I think about the universe giving me breadcrumbs and letting me know that this is the start of a beautiful relationship.
And honestly, thank you, universe. Good job on this one.