Chapter 25 Cherished
Cherished
~GRAYSON~
Reverie looks between the three of us with wide, confused eyes that are somehow still sparkling with residual excitement from the live stream chaos—me standing here shirtless and sweaty, still holding Snowfall's leather reins in one hand, Theo in his post-workout gear looking like he just stepped off the cover of a fitness magazine with her phone still in his large hand, Nash down the street leaning against a lamp post looking thoroughly entertained by this entire situation.
Her confusion is absolutely adorable.
Her nose scrunches up slightly, her head tilts to one side, and her vanilla-caramel-citrus scent fluctuates between excited and bewildered in rapid succession.
She has no idea how cute she looks right now. Hair still wind-tossed from the truck ride, cheeks flushed from the November cold and probably from shouting about Alpha hotness rankings in the middle of Main Street, eyes bright despite everything she's been through today.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, directing the question at Theo with genuine curiosity written all over her expressive face. "I didn't know you trained in Millbrook. I thought you went to that gym in Oakridge near your cabin?"
Theo hands her phone back carefully, his expression neutral but I can see the fondness in his olive-green eyes when he looks at her. It's subtle—Theo doesn't do obvious emotions—but it's there in the slight softening around his eyes, the way his jaw unclenches when she speaks.
"Was at the gym," he says simply. "Iron Haven Fitness Center on Oak Street. Better facility here than Oakridge by a significant margin. Better equipment, newer machines, less crowded during the day. Been coming here three times a week for the past couple months."
Then he turns those intense eyes on me, one dark eyebrow raised in question.
"Why are you down here, Gray? Thought you were dealing with that stubborn mare at the ranch this morning. You texted saying she was throwing fits and refusing to load into the trailer."
I smirk, patting Snowfall's strong neck.
She nuzzles my bare shoulder affectionately, her warm breath creating small clouds in the cold December air.
"This beautiful lady is the stubborn mare. Snowfall here wasn't cooperating with any of the other ranchers. Threw Marco off twice, nearly kicked Benjamin's hat off his head, refused to walk more than ten feet with anyone else holding her reins."
I stroke her silky white coat, feeling the powerful muscles beneath.
"So I drove the forty minutes down here to help get her adapted to town life.
She and the rest of my horses are staying up here in Millbrook for the winter months since the weather's consistently less brutal than Oakridge Hollow—fewer ice storms, better drainage, more temperate overall.
Plus I've got more experienced hands available at the Millbrook stables. "
Snowfall whickers softly, as if agreeing with my assessment. She's significantly calmer now than she was an hour ago when she was practically throwing tantrums every time someone tried to lead her down Main Street. Horses can sense when they're with someone who understands them.
Funny how the universe works sometimes. Theo came for training. I came for horse business. Nash brought Reverie shopping. And somehow we all ended up in the exact same place at the exact same time without any coordination whatsoever.
If I believed in fate, I'd say this was a sign.
"Pretty impressive timing though," I add, looking between my pack mates with genuine appreciation. "All three of us ending up in Millbrook on the same random Sunday without any coordination or planning. What are the odds?"
Reverie squeals—this bright, delighted sound that's so full of pure joy it makes Snowfall's ears prick forward with interest and several passersby turn to look at us with amused smiles.
"Oh my gosh!" Her whole face lights up like Christmas morning.
"This has to be the universe's blessing!
Like fate or destiny bringing us all together at the perfect moment!
This is absolutely perfect for starting the Christmas festivities properly as a pack!
We could do a group photoshoot at the Christmas market!
Or try all the hot chocolate stands together!
Or check out that caroling event Harold mentioned!
Or go ice skating if there's a rink! Or—"
"Hell no," Theo cuts her off with a groan that sounds pained, but I catch the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that might—might—be the beginning of a smile.
"Absolutely not. I'm not doing Christmas festivities.
I came here to lift heavy things and put them back down, not pose for holiday photos like some kind of catalog model. "
I chuckle at his immediate and emphatic rejection.
Theo and Christmas don't exactly mix well—he hasn't celebrated properly in years due to military deployments, bad experiences with ex-partners during the holidays, and general Grinch-like tendencies that he wears like armor.
But watching Reverie's face fall slightly—just a small downturn of her lips, a dimming of that bright enthusiasm—makes something fiercely protective flare hot in my chest.
She bounces back so quickly from disappointment.
Always does. But she shouldn't have to.
She should be allowed to be excited about things without people shutting her down.
"So what were you and Nash doing here anyway?" I ask, steering the conversation before she gets too disappointed by Theo's grumpiness. "Besides making viral content that broke the internet?"
Reverie's face brightens again almost instantly—resilient little Omega. Her vanilla-caramel-citrus scent perks up too, losing that slight hint of sadness that had crept in, returning to its normal sweet warmth.
"Nash reminded me that I need to start making content consistently now that the contract with Evergreen Media is official and active. The live stream was completely spontaneous but it worked out amazingly! Hit five thousand viewers!"
She bounces slightly on her toes, enthusiasm returning.
"Plus the original reason we came to Millbrook was to get me some new clothes since I don't really have any proper wardrobe to speak of. Just basics."
She laughs—this nervous, self-deprecating sound that immediately sets off alarm bells in my head.
"I only had three boxes total from my apartment when we moved my stuff this morning, so... yeah. Not exactly much to work with for someone who's supposed to be building a social media brand."
I arch an eyebrow, processing that information and not liking what it implies.
"Only three boxes? For everything you own? Your entire life's possessions?"
She cringes visibly, her shoulders hunching inward in that defensive way that makes her look smaller, more vulnerable. Like she's trying to take up less space.
"Yeah... I don't really have a lot of stuff that's actually mine. Like, truly mine. My previous pack—Kael and the others—they only bought me clothes for specific events and formal occasions when my presence was required. And that was with my own money obviously, not theirs."
She laughs again but it's hollow this time. Empty. Painful. The kind of laugh that tries desperately to make something deeply hurtful seem less significant, less important, less worthy of acknowledgment.
"If it was for a gala, business dinner, or important pack event where appearances mattered, they would just rent formal outfits for me from those fancy boutiques downtown.
Return them the next day. More cost-effective that way, they always said.
Why waste money buying when you can rent for a fraction of the price? "
My jaw tightens involuntarily.
Snowfall picks up on my sudden tension immediately, shifting restlessly beside me, her muscles bunching beneath her white coat. I consciously relax my grip on her reins before I accidentally communicate distress signals through the leather.
They made her use her own money to buy clothes for their events. Then rented when it was expensive formal wear. Treated her like an accessory they could dress up and put away. But I bet you they were buying clothes and attire that matched their imaginary status and keeping those…
My hands itch to punch something.
Preferably, Kael's face.
Reverie shrugs, trying so hard to play it off like it doesn't bother her, like it's just normal.
"Well, the other girls…the other Omegas who came around sometimes…
would get all the shopping sprees and designer wardrobes and new outfits every season.
Full makeovers. Professional styling. Everything paid for.
Gotta impress the Omegas who come from wealthy families, right?
The ones with important connections, business opportunities, political leverage. Investment potential."
Her voice gets quieter, smaller.
"I wasn't really... I mean, I didn't bring anything valuable to the table in terms of family connections or money or social status.
My grandfather raised me. He was a mechanic.
Good man, but not wealthy. Not connected.
So I was just... there. Useful for household management and pack duties but not worth investing in for appearances. "
Theo's growl cuts her off mid-sentence—cuts through the air like a knife.
It's deep and rumbling and absolutely furious.
The kind of primal Alpha sound that makes people take several instinctive steps backward, that triggers flight responses in anyone who hears it.
I've heard Theo angry before—we served together in the military, I've seen him in actual combat situations where lives were on the line—but this particular growl is different.
Personal. Protective. Possessive in a way that speaks to pack bonds rather than just friendship.
Several passersby on the sidewalk actually stop and stare.
An older woman clutches her shopping bag closer. A teenager takes three quick steps to the side.