Chapter 22
CINDY
“Oh, I’m very sure,” Harper purrs, running her hand down her Morticia dress. The slit goes up to her thigh, and I catch Mack’s eyes tracking the exposed skin like he’s memorizing it. “He’s been absolutely sweet all night. A perfect gentleman. He even won me a stuffed octopus at the ring toss.”
“An octopus?” Luke asks, confused.
“It’s Halloween-themed,” Mack explains, producing a black-and-orange octopus from his back pocket and handing it to Harper. It’s not huge, but it’s adorable and wearing a tiny witch hat. “Harper said she likes things with tentacles.”
“I meant anime,” Harper protests, but she’s clutching the octopus like it’s precious.
Arrow appears beside his brother, and seeing them side by side is like looking at two versions of the same person, one who chose therapy and one who chose wildness.
Same sharp cheekbones, same eyes that see everything, same way of standing like they’re ready for a fight.
But Arrow has laugh lines, and Mack has worry lines.
“We need to talk,” Arrow says to Mack, jerking his head to the side.
“Jesus, here we go,” Mack mutters but follows him a few feet away.
They’re not far enough. We can all hear every word.
“You hurt her,” Arrow says, voice low and dangerous, “and you’ll regret coming to town. I’ll make sure of it. We clear?”
“Yep, already told you I won’t,” Mack says, meeting his brother’s eyes without flinching.
“I’m serious, Mack. This isn’t one of your schemes. Harper’s not some mark or a good time. She’s family.”
I pause, loving the way he referred to Harper as family, like I’m already considered that to the three of them. My heart flutters.
“You think I don’t know that?” Mack’s voice rises slightly.
“Your track record says?—”
“Fuck that.” Mack runs his hand through his hair, the same gesture Arrow makes when he’s frustrated. “I’ve never felt this way about any woman. Ever. She makes me want to be better. Makes me think maybe I could be.”
“Wanting and doing are different things.”
“I know that. But I’m trying, Arrow. For the first time in my life, I’m actually trying.”
I sidle up to Harper, who is watching the brothers, holding her octopus.
There’s a moment of silence where the brothers just stare at each other, some silent communication happening that speaks of shared history and old wounds.
Holt has been silent through this whole exchange, but now he steps forward, and somehow that’s scarier than Arrow’s threats.
“Harper can take care of herself,” he says quietly.
“But she shouldn’t have to. You make her take care of herself because of your bullshit, and what Arrow does to you will look like mercy compared to me and Luke. ”
“Jesus, it’s like having seven angry dads,” Harper says and laughs, not intimidated in the slightest. “I can handle myself. Been doing it for years. Survived my actual dad, survived my ex, survived that time Cindy convinced me to try CrossFit?—”
“Drama queen.”
“Muscle failure queen, thank you very much.”
“Can we please eat?” Harper continues, adjusting her grip on the octopus. “I’m starving, and there’s this amazing food truck section that’ll blow your minds. Plus, watching you all threaten Mack is making me hungry. Violence always does.”
“That’s concerning,” Luke observes.
“That’s hot,” Mack counters, which has Arrow groaning.
We follow Harper through the festival, and it’s like navigating a Halloween obstacle course.
The food truck area is its own ecosystem of amazing smells.
String lights crisscross overhead in orange and purple, casting everything in warm Halloween colors.
Picnic tables fill the space between trucks, most occupied by others.
The competing smells shouldn’t work together, with Korean BBQ mixing with gourmet grilled cheese mixing with what appears to be a truck selling nothing but variations of mac and cheese, but somehow it’s perfect.
“Now this place”—Harper points to a bright green truck with Julio’s Authentic Tacos painted in faded red and yellow, next to a cartoon taco in a sombrero that’s borderline offensive but still weirdly adorable—“makes the best Mexican food you’ve ever had. I’m talking religious-experience tacos.”
“That’s a lot of pressure for a taco,” Holt adds, brows raised.
“Trust me. I once saw a grown person cry into his torta,” Harper says.
“Was that you?” I ask.
Harper doesn’t answer. Just smiles at me.
“I’ll order for everyone,” Arrow declares, already peeling off toward the truck. “I speak fluent taco. Plus, Julio owes me a favor from when I taught him how to properly season his meat.”
“Of course you did,” Luke mutters.
“I’ll come too,” Mack adds, trailing after his brother.
We find a picnic table of wood carved with initials, hearts, crude drawings, and one particularly aggressive declaration: Brad + Janet 4Ever , which looks like it was done with a butter knife.
Orange and black streamers are wrapped haphazardly around the posts, with fake spiders hanging from fishing line overhead.
Every time the wind picks up, one of them jerks around like it’s coming to life, causing at least one person nearby to flinch and swat at the air.
Luke slides in beside me, instantly throwing his arm across my shoulders. “So, are we officially the scandal of the festival now, seeing as you have family members here, or do we need to light something on fire?”
I laugh even though I haven’t told him that we bumped into more family in the maze.
Across the table, Harper snorts. “Oh, you lit something, all right. Half the town saw you guys threatening a man earlier near the animal petting zoo. I’m pretty sure the goat fainted.”
“You’re welcome,” Luke says with a grin. “We aim to traumatize the livestock.”
“You’re hilarious,” I mutter, pressing in closer to him.
“To be fair,” Harper adds, “the dramatics were kind of hot. I mean, if someone cornered my stalker and gave him the Alpha death glare?—”
“I meant every word,” Luke states.
Holt drops onto the bench on my other side. His thigh brushes mine, and I sense the tension that’s been curled inside me all night uncoil just a little.
“Yeah, you nearly broke his nose with your stare,” Harper says, rolling her eyes. “Seriously, it was very sweet of you all to be looking out for me too.”
Luke just grins.
Holt leans back slightly, arm draping over the back of the bench, glancing my way and blowing me a kiss. I shudder all over in the best possible way.
Across the table, Harper’s stuffed octopus stares blankly at me from the table it’s sitting on.
I stare at Luke, who grins my way, and at Arrow, who’s talking animatedly to the food truck guy.
I’m falling for them.
Harder than I planned. Faster than I should.
And I should be worried, but I’m not. I want a family of my own who adores me as I am. What scares me is that I might lose it all.
“So,” I say, leaning forward, eyeing Harper, “is Mack treating you well? Like, really well?”
Harper’s expression shifts instantly, mouth tipping into a dreamy little smile I’ve never seen on her.
“You have no idea how well,” she says, practically glowing.
“We’ve been talking all night. Like, actually talking.
He asked about my job, my family, and so much more.
I think he’s interested in my brain, not just my”—she gestures dramatically at her corseted cleavage, which honestly deserves its own moment of silence—“assets. Though, make no mistake, he’s very interested in those too. Like, laser-focused interested.”
“And that’s different from other guys, how?” Holt asks, genuinely curious.
“Most guys? They see the boobs and lose all higher brain function. The rest of me might as well be background noise. Mack, though…” She shakes her head in disbelief.
“He’s literally been stopping me from climbing him like a tree.
Says he wants to ‘do this right.’?” She even makes little air quotes.
“Who says that? What kind of tattooed bad-boy criminal says that with a straight face?”
I glance at her, something warm blooming under my ribs. “The kind that’s trying to be better.”
Her eyes meet mine, softer now. “Exactly. He feels… good. Solid. Like maybe he’s made mistakes?—”
“He has,” Luke interjects, not even pretending to hide it. “Like, a lot of mistakes.”
“—but he’s trying to be better,” Harper finishes, ignoring him completely. “That’s hot. Redemption is hot.”
There’s a beat. Holt and Luke exchange a look across the table like they’re silently playing some game of unspoken male telepathy.
Harper narrows her eyes. “Okay. What? What was that look? Don’t make me throw the octopus.”
“Mack’s got… history. The kind that usually doesn’t end with happy backyard barbecues.”
“So do you three,” she fires back immediately. “You think Cindy doesn’t know that? Doesn’t see it?”
I blink at the sudden spotlight. But she’s not wrong.
“Whatever you’ve done,” she says, sweeping her hand across the table like she’s dealing cards, “you’re here now. Trying. That counts. She gets that.”
They all go quiet.
“We’re reformed. Or… y’know. Reforming. Like an old boy band, but with more brooding and fewer haircuts,” Luke adds.
“Very few haircuts,” I mutter under my breath, side-eyeing Holt’s always messy hair.
He catches it and smirks.
Harper shakes her head, grinning now. “You’re all adorable together.”
Holt doesn’t speak, but under the table, I feel the brush of his pinky against mine.
A quiet reminder.
He’s listening.
Watching.
Arrow and Mack return soon after, carrying two trays loaded with enough food to feed a small village.
The smell hits immediately of grilled meat, fresh cilantro, lime, onions, that perfect char that only comes from a well-loved grill.
Tacos wrapped in white paper already showing grease spots, tortas the size of my head stuffed with everything imaginable, chips still warm from the fryer, guacamole, elote covered in white cheese and chili powder that’s going to get everywhere.
“Oh my,” Harper breathes. “It’s beautiful.”
“I got you the pescado especial,” Mack tells Harper, setting down a container in front of her with the care usually reserved for religious artifacts. “You mentioned earlier that you loved fish tacos with mango salsa. Extra lime, light on the cilantro because you said it sometimes tastes like soap.”
Harper actually swoons. Like, full hand to her forehead, eyelashes fluttering, might need smelling salts swoons.
“You listened,” she says, voice soft and wondering. “You actually listened to my food preferences.”
“Course I did,” Mack says, sliding in beside her, his leg immediately pressed against hers. “Everything you say is fascinating. Even the twenty-minute rant about how the Twilight movies ruined the books.”
“They did!”
“I know, gorgeous. You explained it. In detail.”
Arrow makes a gagging noise that turns into a very fake cough when Harper glares at him with the force of a thousand suns.
“Sorry,” he says, not sorry at all. “Allergic to feelings.”
“You’re allergic to your brother being happy,” Harper shoots back.
Arrow laughs, and I notice his shoulders relax slightly.
“They look good together,” I whisper to Holt and Arrow beside him.
“Yeah,” he concedes quietly. “She makes him smile real smiles. Haven’t seen those in years.”
“That’s good,” I say.
“Speaking of which, you look fucking edible tonight, Dorothy,” Arrow adds. “Good enough to eat. Makes me want to click your heels three times and take you home right now.”
Harper is giggling at us while leaning in closer to Mack.
I blush. “Arrow, we’re in public.”
“So? Didn’t stop Holt earlier.”
“That was different,” Luke adds, his hand on my thigh, traveling up.
“We’re eating!” I squeak, grabbing his wrist to stop his hand’s journey.
“So!” Harper says loudly, clearly trying to distract from whatever she’s seeing on my face. “Tell me about this mansion you’ve all moved into. Cindy says it’s incredible, but she tends to understate things.”
I laugh, as she isn’t wrong.
“You should come see it sometime,” Luke offers through a mouthful of taco, somehow still managing to look attractive despite having salsa on his chin.
“Well, my guest bedroom has its own bathroom with a tub that’s basically a small pool. Plus heated floors! My feet have never been so happy.”
“Your home now,” Holt reminds me, his voice gentle but firm. “Not just your bedroom. The whole thing. Every room, every inch of it.”
“Still getting used to that,” I say softly.
It strikes me suddenly, sitting here surrounded by laughter, that this is what normal feels like. This is what I missed all those years growing up.
Friends who actually like me. Men who look at me like I’m something precious instead of a burden or a commodity.
Harper smiling. Arrow and Mack debating whether a hot dog is a sandwich.
Luke’s hand warm on my thigh. Holt’s presence solid beside me.
The comfortable company of people who choose each other.
Is this what life could have been like if I hadn’t had my family suppressing me?
All those years of being told I wasn’t enough, was too much, needed to be smaller, quieter, less.
And here I am being exactly myself, laughing too loudly, eating my fourth taco without apology, covered in hay from rolling around with Holt, dress probably ruined, and these people want more of me, not less.
“You okay?” Arrow asks quietly.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“How different everything is now. Good different. A few weeks ago, I was living in a townhouse, keeping low, and jumping at every knock on the door. Now I’m with three Alphas, my best friend is dating a potentially reformed criminal but hasn’t been this happy in years, and I just…
I keep wanting to pinch myself. Make sure it’s real. ”
“It’s real,” Holt assures me. The other two smiling my way. “We’re real. This is real.”
I go back to eating and embrace the peace settling over me.
When we’re gathering our trash, my phone buzzes. I pull it out and notice that it’s from Mother.
My blood turns to ice… anything from her sets me off.
I will come over in the morning to see this mansion. For wedding purposes, of course. Please send me the address.
My whole body goes rigid. The warmth of the evening, the comfort of being surrounded by people who actually like me, and the safety I felt evaporate instantly.