Chapter 11 Finn
Finn
I’m ready to collapse by the time we make it back to the Grand Cabin, the casserole dish warm between my gloved hands.
Everett’s mom pressed it into my arms before we left, insisting we needed proper sustenance.
It’s well past dinnertime, and my stomach has progressed from growling to making sounds that could rival a thunderstorm.
“I’m so hungry I could eat a reindeer,” I announce as we climb the porch steps. “Including Rudolph. Especially Rudolph. His nose would add some spice.”
Gabe snorts. “You’d feel guilty halfway through and start crying about Christmas being ruined.”
“True, but I’d be crying with a full stomach.”
I stamp the snow from my boots and push open the door. “Melody? We come bearing actual food.”
No response. The living room sits empty, though Christmas music plays softly from the speakers.
“Maybe she went to bed?” I whisper, though it’s only eight o’clock.
Gabe shakes his head, his nostrils flaring slightly. “She’s here.”
Sometimes I forget how different his senses are from mine.
Where I smell pine and cinnamon and whatever deliciousness is in the casserole, he can pick out individual scents, track them like some kind of sexy bloodhound. It’s one of those alpha things I’ll never fully understand, like how he always knows when I’m upset before I say anything.
We move further into the cabin, and that’s when I spot her at the dining table.
Melody is slumped forward, her head resting directly on her laptop keyboard, blonde hair spilling across the keys.
Her cheek is squished against the letters, and I’d bet money there’s a keyboard imprint forming on her skin.
The screen is a jumble of nonsense letters—her cheek must be pressing random keys.
“Should we wake her?” I ask softly.
I look to Gabe when he doesn’t answer. There’s something in his expression I can’t quite read—a softness as he looks at her, an intensity that seems different from his usual stoicism.
“You’ve been quieter this afternoon. Penny for your thoughts?”
Gabe grunts noncommittally.
“Use your words, big guy.” I nudge him with my elbow. “That’s why evolution gave us language.”
“Just tired,” he finally says, but I know him too well to believe it. Something is brewing behind those beautiful eyes, something he’s not ready to share yet.
I decide not to push. Three years with Gabe have taught me when to prod and when to let him process. Tonight feels like the latter.
“Well, Mrs. Pine really outdid herself with this casserole,” I say instead. “We should wake Melody up and make sure she eats something… she might end up with a neck kink if we don’t.”
I set the casserole down on the counter while Gabe approaches Melody. He places a gentle hand on her shoulder, his touch lighter than most would expect from someone his size.
“Melody,” he says softly.
She stirs with a slight groan—her face peeling away from the keyboard with a subtle sticking sound that makes me wince. When she lifts her head, there’s a perfect QWERTY imprint on her cheek, red lines marking where each key pressed against her skin.
“Oh god,” she mumbles, straightening up and immediately wincing. “Ow, my neck.”
“Fell asleep working?” I ask, already moving to grab plates. “Your boss is a menace, by the way. Working on vacation should be illegal.”
She rubs her neck, grimacing. “What time is it?”
“Just past eight,” Gabe says, his voice still that gentle rumble. “You hungry?”
“Starving, actually,” she admits, closing her laptop. Her stomach growls as if on cue, and a blush spreads across her cheeks.
It’s adorable.
“Perfect timing then!” I call from the kitchen. “Mrs. Pine sent us home with her famous chicken casserole. The woman is a culinary genius.”
Melody attempts to rotate her neck and flinches. “I shouldn’t have had that second Eggnog-tini with Charlie. It hit me harder than I expected.”
“We heard about your showdown with the mayor,” I say, dishing up three heaping portions of casserole. The steam rises with a savory aroma that makes my mouth water. “Charlie texted. Oxford the Avenger, coming to the rescue of Omega Rights everywhere.”
A flush creeps up her neck. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
“Are you kidding?” I laugh, carrying plates to the table. “Everett’s probably going to give that llama a medal.”
“Reynolds is the worst,” Gabe agrees.
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes; the only sounds are our forks against our plates and the occasional appreciative murmur. I watch Melody from the corner of my eye, noticing how she still holds her neck stiffly.
“We’re planning to soak in the hot tub after dinner,” I announce. “Nothing is better for sore muscles than hot water and bubbles. You’re welcome to join us.”
“There’s a hot tub?” Melody asks, surprised.
“On the back deck. Everett mentioned it today. Said it’s all ready to go. I’m personally counting the minutes. My supervisory role was extremely taxing today.”
Gabe snorts. “Your supervisory role consisted of sitting on a stump and critiquing my ass.”
“And a fine ass it is,” I reply with a wink. “Top-tier. Premium grade.”
Melody laughs, the sound light and genuine. “You two are cute together.”
Melody’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink at her own comment, her eyes darting between Gabe and me. She suddenly becomes very interested in her casserole, poking at a piece of chicken with her fork.
“Thank you for the hot tub offer, but I think I’m going straight to bed after dinner. Between the work, confronting the mayor, and Charlie’s spiked eggnog, I’m completely wiped out.”
“No pressure. The offer stands whenever you want it. That tub’s big enough for a small army.”
She nods, still looking flustered, and returns her attention to her plate.
“So,” I say, changing the subject, “tell us more about your heroic defense of omega rights. Charlie made it sound like you verbally eviscerated our esteemed mayor.”
This brings Melody’s eyes back up, a small smile playing at her lips. “I wouldn’t go that far. I just… disagreed with his outdated views.”
“And then Oxford punctuated your argument with llama spit,” I add.
She laughs, “That part I had nothing to do with. Oxford made that executive decision all on his own.”
Gabe stays quiet during this exchange, but I notice him watching Melody. When she laughs, his eyes follow her movement, lingering on her face longer.
Interesting.
After dinner, we leave Melody to her work and head outside to the hot tub. The night air bites at my exposed skin as I quickly shed my robe and slip into the steaming water.
“Holy mother of—” I gasp as the heat engulfs my legs. “That’s hot.”
Gabe follows me in, his massive frame sinking beneath the bubbling surface with a deep groan, sending a different kind of heat through me.
Even after three years, that sound still does things to me.
“My shoulders feel like they’ve been hit by a truck,” I admit, leaning my head back against the edge. The contrast between the frigid air on my face and the searing heat on my body is exquisite torture. “And I barely did anything. How are you even moving?”
Gabe rotates his shoulders, wincing slightly. “Used different muscles than I’m used to.”
The stars look impossibly bright out here, away from city lights. I’ve forgotten how beautiful the real night sky can be.
“Come here, big guy,” I say, shifting position in the water. “Let me take care of you.”
Gabe moves in front of me, his broad back now accessible to my hands. I start at his shoulders, digging my thumbs into the knots I find there. His skin is hot and slick under my fingers, the muscles beneath like steel cables wound too tight.
“Fuck, that feels good,” he groans, head dropping forward. “I haven’t worked this hard in years.”
“And it shows. You’ve got knots on top of knots,” I tell him, increasing the pressure. I find a particularly stubborn one near his shoulder blade and focus on it, working it with steady pressure.
“Mmm,” is all he manages in response.
My fingers press deeper, and he hisses. “Sorry,” I murmur, easing up slightly.
“No, keep going. It hurts in a good way.”
I continue my ministrations, falling into a comfortable rhythm. The only sounds are the bubbling jets, Gabe’s occasional appreciative grunts, and our breathing. The steam creates a cocoon around us, insulating us from the cold night air.
Finally, he speaks.
“Melody.”
“What about her?” I keep my hands moving, sensing he’ll talk more freely if I’m not looking directly at him. I’ve learned that Gabe processes emotions better when he doesn’t have to maintain eye contact.
“Her scent.” Another long pause. “It’s… strong.”
I process this information carefully. “Strong how? Like she needs a shower, or strong like…”
“Like a scent-match.”
My hands go still on his shoulders. “Oh.”
A scent-match.
The most powerful connection between an alpha and an omega. The stuff of romance novels and biology textbooks. A compatibility so perfect that it’s said to be felt on a cellular level.
Gabe turns in the water to face me, his expression more vulnerable than I’ve seen in months. His eyes—those warm green eyes I fell in love with—search mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
He takes my hands in his, those large calloused palms enveloping mine completely. “But you’re my choice, Finn. My love. If you’re not comfortable with this, with the possibility of Melody, then I choose you. I’ll walk away. We can find another rental. Go back to the city early. Whatever you need.”
Something catches in my throat. A scent-match is biological destiny, according to some. The pull is supposedly overwhelming, nearly impossible to resist. Yet here’s Gabe, offering to ignore it completely for me.
“You’d do that?” I ask, voice barely audible over the bubbling water.
“In a heartbeat,” he says without hesitation. “What we have isn’t just biology. It’s a choice. Every day, I choose you,” Gabe says as he turns to face me.
I blink rapidly, fighting the sudden moisture in my eyes.
Stupid hot tub steam.
“Gabe, we’ve talked about this before. About potentially finding an omega someday.”
“Talking hypothetically is different from reality,” he points out. “This is happening now, not someday.”
I lean forward, resting my forehead against his chest, gathering my thoughts. The steady thump of his heart grounds me, reminds me of the foundation we’ve built together.
“There’s more,” Gabe says after a moment, his voice rumbling through his chest against my forehead.
I look up. “More?”
“Everett. He’s… he also responded to her scent.”
I pull back slightly. “Wait, Everett too? She’s a scent-match for both of you?”
Gabe nods, looking almost relieved to have it out. “We realized it today, when she came to visit us in the forest.”
I squeeze Gabe’s hand, feeling a sudden wave of emotion wash over me. “I love you, you know that? More than anything.” My voice catches slightly. “And I think I had a gut feeling about Melody from the beginning—the way she kept sniffing you both last night—it was obvious there was something there.”
Gabe’s eyes widen slightly. “You noticed?”
“She practically climbed onto your lap to get a better whiff,” I say with a soft laugh. “Then declared you smelled like ‘shirtless, brooding men chopping wood.’ Not exactly subtle.”
Gabe nods. The vulnerability in his gaze makes my heart ache.
“I like her,” I admit. “She’s funny and sweet, and there’s something about her that feels right. But I’m a beta. I don’t have the alpha scent that draws omegas. I don’t trigger her biology the way you and Everett do.”
Gabe cups my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. “Anyone who doesn’t adore you is an idiot.”
“Biased,” I murmur, leaning into his touch.
“Accurate,” he counters. “Your scent might not trigger her omega instincts, but you trigger everything else—her mind, her laughter—I saw how she looked at you today. She likes you, Finn.”
I bite my lip, considering. “So what do we do now? We can’t just announce, ‘Hey, by the way, you’re biologically compatible with my boyfriend, want to have a threesome?’”
“Oh shit! And Everett. Is it weird? I mean, he’s your best friend.”
“We shared omegas back in college so that it wouldn’t be something entirely new,” Gabe says.
He and I have always felt like family, so it makes sense that we would share a scent match.
I’ll never have romantic feelings for him, but it feels right to think of him as a more permanent part of our lives.
“I’ve been thinking of him as my brother for a while already,” I say thoughtfully.
“If Melody is compatible with both of us… Maybe it’s meant to be all four of us. A real pack.”
The possibility sends a thrill through me. Not just Gabe and me anymore, but something fuller, more complete.
“I can already picture it,” I tease. “You two competing over who gets to carry her groceries or something equally ridiculous.”
“I wouldn’t fight him,” Gabe says with mock seriousness. “I’d just win.”
I splash water on his face. “Alphas and their competitive nonsense.”
He catches my wrist gently, pulling me closer. The water swirls between us, hot and buoyant. His eyes become serious again. “What are you thinking, really?”
“I’m thinking,” I say slowly, “that this could be amazing, but we need to talk to Everett and make sure we’re all on the same page before anything happens.”
“We go slow,” Gabe says. “We get to know her better. Let her get to know us. All of us.”
“Agreed,” I say.
“Now, be a good little beta and let your alpha show you just how much he loves you.”