22. Emma
Emma
D usk is settling over the farm as I make my way toward the fire pit area near the edge of the apple orchard. The last visitors left hours ago, and the property has a different feel now—peaceful and intimate.
As I approach, I see the fire blazing, flames reaching the darkening sky. Around it, four Adirondack chairs have been arranged in a loose circle, close enough for conversation but with enough space between them that no one would feel crowded.
Theo spots me first, waving enthusiastically. “Perfect timing! I was just about to open the cider.”
As I draw closer, they’ve transformed the simple fire pit into something almost magical.
String lights hang from the nearby trees, casting a warm glow that complements the fire.
A small table holds an array of food—the promised ingredients for s’mores, cheese, crackers, fruit, and what appears to be a pot of mulled cider keeping warm over a portable burner.
“This is beautiful,” I say, impressed by the effort they’ve put into what was supposed to be a casual bonfire.
“Theo’s doing,” Rowan says, rising from his chair. His movement sends a wave of burnt sugar scent toward me, and my omega instincts respond with a flutter of warmth low in my belly. “He doesn’t believe in doing anything halfway.”
Theo grins proudly, not denying it. “Life’s too short for halfway experiences.” He hands me a mug of steaming cider that smells of cinnamon, cloves, and something more substantial. “Spiked with bourbon. Just enough to keep the autumn chill away.”
Our fingers brush during the exchange, and a tingle races up my arm. I have to suppress a small gasp at how intensely my body reacts to even this casual touch.
Liam, arranging wood near the fire, straightens and nods a greeting. The sight of him, all tall, broad-shouldered, and backlit by flames, makes my mouth dry and my heart beat faster.
“Sit,” Rowan says, gesturing to the empty chair between his and Theo’s. “Relax. Tonight is just about enjoying the season.”
I settle into the chair, cradling the warm mug between my hands.
The fire crackles pleasantly, sending sparks spiraling upward into the darkening sky.
Positioned between Rowan and Theo, with Liam directly across from me, I am surrounded by their scents—a heady combination that makes my skin prickle with awareness and dampness gather between my thighs.
For a while, conversation flows easily, light, casual topics about the farm, the successful opening weeks, and funny stories about particularly memorable visitors.
Theo is in his element, animated and entertaining as he recounts the tale of a city couple who didn’t understand that the pumpkins grew on vines, not trees.
“They kept looking up,” he says, gesturing dramatically. “Searching the branches like they expected to see orange globes hanging there like Christmas ornaments. I didn’t have the heart to tell them to look down.”
I laugh, without restraint, and all three men watching me with expressions that make heat climb up my neck.
“Your turn,” Theo says, turning to me with bright eyes. “Best visitor story so far.”
I think for a moment, then share the story of a little girl who was convinced Maple was a princess under a curse. “She kept whispering to her that she knew the truth, and that she’d find a way to break the spell. Maple just kept eating her jacket.”
The guys laugh, and something warm blooms in my chest at the sound, at being the cause of it. Liam’s chuckle, Rowan’s deep rumble, Theo’s unreserved delight. Different notes that somehow harmonize perfectly. My omega preens at their approval, a purr building in my throat that I must swallow down.
As the evening progresses and the cider works its gentle magic, the conversation shifts to more personal territory. Refilling our mugs, Theo hesitates before speaking, his usual easy confidence momentarily subdued.
“You know, I almost didn’t come back to the farm after college,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. “I had a job offer in the city. Good money, a chance to see more of the world than just Autumn Falls .”
This is clearly news, though Rowan and Liam’s expressions suggest they’ve heard this story before. “What made you stay?” I ask, leaning slightly toward him without conscious thought, drawn to his spiced vanilla, the edges intensify, turning somewhat with his vulnerability.
Theo stares into the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes.
“A lot of things. Family responsibility, partly—Rowan was already running things, but it’s a lot for one person.
But mostly…” he trails off, searching for words.
“I realized I was chasing something I thought I was supposed to want, not what actually made me happy.”
“And the farm makes you happy?” I ask, my hand moving of its own accord to rest lightly on his forearm.
He looks up. “The farm, sure. But honestly? It’s more about belonging somewhere, you know?
Having a purpose, a place that’s mine. I would have been just another desk guy in a suit in the city.
Here, I’m…” he gestures around, encompassing the farm, the fire, the three of us, “part of something real.”
His answer resonates deeply. My chest tightens with emotion, and I have to blink rapidly to keep unexpected tears at bay.
“It’s not always easy,” Theo continues, his smile returning but with a hint of wistfulness.
“Small towns have long memories; sometimes it’s hard to outgrow who people think you are.
The funny one, the charming one, who’s good with people but not the one in charge.
” He glances at Rowan briefly. “But being seen clearly by the people who matter—that’s worth more than any corner office in the city. ”
Rowan reaches over, briefly squeezing Theo’s shoulder, a gesture of understanding, of solidarity.
Their casual intimacy twists something in my chest, a longing for that kind of unspoken connection.
My omega whines softly inside me, wanting to be part of their easy affection, to be touched with that same certainty.
“My turn for confessions?” Rowan asks, his deep voice drawing our attention.
Theo grins, the moment of vulnerability passing. “Bare your soul, brother. It’s good for you.”
Rowan rolls his eyes, but there’s affection in the gesture. He takes a thoughtful sip of his cider before speaking. “When our parents retired, I was terrified,” he admits. “Not of the work—I’d been doing most of it anyway—but of failing. Of being the one who let the family legacy collapse.”
It’s hard to imagine Rowan, the confident, capable Rowan, afraid of anything. Yet there’s no artifice in his expression as he continues, my body leaning towards him instinctively as he speaks.
“The farm had been struggling for years. Traditional farming wasn’t profitable enough, not for a place this size.
The autumn festival was helping, but it wasn’t enough.
We needed to expand, adapt, and find new ways for this land to sustain us.
” He looks around at the farm, his expression softening.
“This place isn’t just crops and livestock.
It’s generations of history, of lives lived close to the seasons… I couldn’t be the one to lose it.”
“You didn’t,” Liam says quietly. “You made it stronger.”
Rowan acknowledges this with a slight nod. “We did. Together.” He looks at me. “That’s why your work matters, Emma. It’s not just about social media or marketing. It’s about helping this place survive, adapt, continue.”
I had been thinking of my job as temporary, a means to an end—safety, anonymity, enough money to move on when necessary. But I’m part of something much more significant now.
“I understand. Thank you for trusting me with that responsibility.” My voice comes out huskier than intended, and Rowan’s nostrils flare slightly in response, his pupils dilating as he holds my gaze.
Liam has been quiet and adds another log to the fire, sending sparks swirling upward.
In the flickering light, his profile is striking—strong jaw, straight nose, and the tension he usually carries in his shoulders is somewhat relaxed tonight.
The play of light and shadow across his features makes my fingers itch to touch him and trace the contours of his face.
“Your turn,” Theo prompts him, poking his leg with a marshmallow roasting stick. “Deepest, darkest secret time.”
Liam gives him a look that would be intimidating if not for the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth. “You know my secrets,” he says.
“Not all of them,” Theo counters. “And Emma doesn’t know any of them.”
Something passes between them, one of those silent communications I’ve noticed. Liam glances at me, then back at the fire. The tension in his shoulders returns, and my omega instinctively responds, wanting to soothe whatever pain is causing that rigid posture.
“I had another pack once, when I was younger,” he begins, his voice low and rough.
“When we found an omega mate, we were sure we would only grow closer as a pack. But her manipulations began almost immediately; she would start arguments between pack mates by intentionally stirring the pot, play with our emotions by being hot and cold all the time, especially if anyone else was watching. Her stories and embellishments went so far as to cause major rifts between us, and when I started to catch on, I tried to warn the others. She really didn’t like that and convinced my other packmates that I was the one who was the problem.
And when it came down to it, she made them choose her or me. And well… here I am.”
My heart constricts painfully at his words—the betrayal, the rejection he must have felt.
“I didn’t think I’d find another pack,” he says. “After what happened with the last one, I figured I was better off alone. Safer.”
The admission carries echoes of my own experience—the decision that isolation is preferable to the risk of being hurt again.
I move before I think better of it and find myself climbing Liam’s lap and curling up against him.
I feel his breathing stutter as he wraps his arms around me, and I begin a soft purr.
I’ve never purred for an alpha before, and something tells me this is his first experience with it, too.
“What changed?” I ask softly, my voice barely audible over the crackling fire.
His eyes meet mine, his face flickering in the firelight, steady and unguarded. “Found my true pack.”
My omega responds with a surge of warmth that floods my entire body, a recognition of truth that bypasses all my carefully constructed defenses. These beautiful, complex, genuine men are mine.
I nuzzle deeper into Liam’s chest.
“Pack bonds are rare,” Rowan says, his tone thoughtful. “Most people never experience them. They go through life with family bonds, friendships, and romantic relationships, all valuable and meaningful, but different from what happens when a true pack forms.”
I’m suddenly nervous, my free hand fidgeting with the hem of my sweater. My heart pounds against my ribs, and I’m sure they can all hear it.
“Pack bonds, especially scent-matched ones, are deeper. More instinctive. It’s not just emotional or physical attraction. It’s recognition on a fundamental level—like your body and instincts recognize something in the other person that complements who you are.” He continues.
“It’s about balance,” Theo adds, his eyes finding mine with an intensity that belies his casual tone. “Different strengths, different needs, coming together to create something stronger than any individual could be alone.”
My body thrums with awareness of all three of them—warm and secure in Liam’s lap with his arms around me. Their scent intensifies; the combination is intoxicating.
“Our pack works because we choose each other, every day,” Rowan continues, his voice deepening. “Because we see each other fully and still want to be connected.”
“What Rowan’s trying to say in his roundabout way,” Theo interjects, his tone lighter but his eyes serious, “is that we were not actively seeking an omega to complete some biological checklist. But now we’ve found someone who fits. If she’ll have us.”
My cheeks burn, and I’m grateful for the firelight that hopefully hides my blush.
But there’s no hiding the way my scent shifts, sweetening with desire, deepening with emotion.
All three men notice; I can see it in the dilation of their pupils, the subtle flaring of nostrils, the way they each lean closer to me.
The moment stretches between us, charged with possibility. My mind races with caution—reminding me of past betrayals, of reasons to guard my heart—but my body, my omega, knows with bone-deep certainty that this is right—that these men are safe, and they are mine, as I am theirs.
“Yes,” I whisper. My voice grows stronger as I continue, “I’ll have you.”
The words hang between us, and I watch as they register on each man’s face; Theo’s breaking into a brilliant smile, Rowan’s eyes darkening with intensity, Liam’s arms tightening around me.
My omega instincts howl with triumph, rightness, and the recognition of finding home somewhere so unexpected, these three men who somehow complete me in ways I never knew I needed.