7. Quinn
QUINN
I check my watch for the tenth time in five minutes, my nerves twisting tighter with every tick. I’m anxious to know how the day went. It was our first time taking such a big group out.
They’re well-connected, influential, and have an annoyingly active presence in town. Think PTA on steroids. A positive review from them could make all the difference for the North Star. Especially if we’re ever going to get our company out from under Graves’s thumb.
I convinced Cass to book them. It took some pushing, but even he knew how valuable the right word from that group could be. Especially since some of the Omegas are from Driftwood Cove, the next town over. New clientele. New business. A chance to prove we can stand on our own.
But Cass is stubborn, and he hates taking risks, especially when the stakes are this high. Hell, he’s been so down lately, even though he’d never admit it. But I see it. The frustration in his eyes. The exhaustion etched into every line of his face, the worry he’s trying so hard to hide.
If this trip went well, it would be a big win for him. For all of us.
I check my watch again, knowing I’m being ridiculous but unable to help myself. This needs to go right. Not just for the business, but for Cass.
And for us. For our pack. For Blake.
Plus, nobody wants Daisy’s wrath. She’s probably the scariest person I’ve ever met, though you’d never guess it by looking at her.
That tiny, sunny Omega could put the fear of God into anyone, and I definitely don’t want to be on her bad side.
If today went wrong, we’d hear about it for the rest of our lives.
My fingers drum against the counter where I’m trying to focus on prepping dinner, restless and frustrated.
The front door swings open, heavy boots hitting the hardwood with a thud that vibrates straight through my chest. Cass and JP are home.
I’m about to ask them how it went, but immediately, I know the day didn’t go the way I’d hoped.
Their scents are off, sharp and sour with frustration. And what I’m getting through the bond is confusing as hell. Their emotions are a tangled mess, a whirlwind of irritation, confusion, hope and distress. In short, unsettled.
I take another long look at them and shake my head.
“Nope. Never mind. Go shower and I’ll see you in a few.”
Neither of them argue, which only proves what I already guessed. Usually they resist any mothering. They disappear down the hall, and I exhale, turning back to the stove.
Twenty minutes later, they’re back, clean, slightly less tense, but still not right.
The smell of grilled steak and garlic butter fills the air as I pull the meat from the pan, the satisfying sizzle a familiar comfort. The kitchen is warm, thick with the scents of home, smoke, char, and the ever-present tang of the sea clinging to everything.
Usually, this is very much my happy place. I come from a long line of Shawnacee’s who believe food can cure any ill, heal any heartbreak, and make any hard conversation easier.
“Here.” I set two beers down in front of them along with heaping plates of steak and the creamiest, melt-in-your-mouth potatoes imaginable, my mom’s secret recipe. This is the kind of comfort food meant to solve everything, or at least make the world feel a little less sharp around the edges.
It’s easy to fall into this role within our pack.
Partly because Cass and JP can’t cook to save their lives, and partly because this really is where I feel the most content.
Feeding people. Taking care of them. Making things right, even if only through a good meal.
Not the most Alpha trait, but having Blake changed me.
“Alright, what happened?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual, even as a knot of worry twists low in my stomach.
Cass looks up at me, rolling the beer bottle between his palms, his eyes distant. It’s an absent-minded, nervous gesture I’ve seen him do way too often lately. Instead of answering, he just lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a long, drawn-out drink.
I shift my gaze to JP, eyebrows raised in question. But he’s not much better. He just leans forward, rubbing his massive hand down his face like he’s trying to scrub away whatever the hell went wrong today.
Before I can press them further, a tiny force of nature barrels into the room.
“Uncle Cassy!” Blake shouts, launching himself at Cass with the kind of reckless joy only a five-year-old can manage, and Cass’s scowl cracks for the first time since they walked through the door.
His big arms fold around Blake, lifting him into a bone-crushing hug.
“Just what I needed, little man,” Cass mutters, voice rough, burying his face in Blake’s wild mess of curls.
Blake erupts into uncontrollable laughter as Cass starts tickling him, his little body writhing with pure, unfiltered happiness. His giggles bounce off the walls, bright and infectious, kicking and squirming like a wild thing.
“Put me down, down, down!” Blake shouts through fits of laughter, voice breaking with delight.
“Never, pip-squeak!” Cass taunts, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of grain, his grin wide and shameless. “You stink, buddy. Time to get the hose.” He pretends to march him straight out the door.
“Uncle Jamie, HELP! Don’t let him spray me with the hose. PLEEEAAASEEE!” Blake’s shriek is desperate but laced with amusement.
JP crosses his arms, smirking as he looks down at Blake, who’s dangling upside down over Cass’s shoulder like a squirming fish. “Only if you promise to share all your candy with me for the next year.”
Blake narrows his eyes, giving JP the most serious, discerning look a five-year-old can muster.
“Deal.”
“Ha! You need to learn to bargain better, kid.” JP laughs.
He reaches out and hauls Blake off Cass’s shoulder, pulling him into a bear hug that swallows the kid whole.
“And you should always get everything in writing,” JP adds in a mock-serious tone before diving in for the kill. Unable to resist the opportunity to torment Blake just a little longer, he grabs the kid by the ankle and hauls him upside down.
The look of absolute betrayal on Blake’s face lasts all of two seconds before he bursts into another round of helpless, hic-cupping laughter.
“You’ve got a weak spot right here, kid,” JP growls, his fingers dance over his ribs mercilessly, tickling him until his squeals echo through the house.
They’re a chaotic mess of limbs and laughter, and I can’t help but smile. Because this is what a family should feel like.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh this hard.
If you’d told me ten years ago that the formidable Caspian Redgrave and Jeremiah Paulsen would not only be my pack but also my son’s second fathers, I’d have said you were crazy.
But here we are. A pack and a family, both of which are more than I deserve.
I didn’t expect Blake and me to fit into this life so easily.
But we do.
After hugging JP one more time, Blake is off again, tearing through the kitchen, making dramatic explosion noises like he’s in the middle of an imaginary battle.
So much like me, it’s terrifying.
Cass watches him for a beat, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.
Then, his gaze cuts back to me.
I see it again, that tension lurking beneath the surface.
“So,” I say, arms crossed, watching them both closely. “You two ready to tell me what the hell actually happened today?
“Look, I’ll find out eventually. This town is full of gossiping old ladies. So you might as well just tell me what happened to make you both look like…well, that?” I gesture toward their stormy, unreadable faces.
Cass and JP exchange a look.
JP is the first to break; with a deep sigh, he says, “The charter today was a fucking disaster.” He drops his head into his hands, shoulders slumped.
“What do you mean, disaster?” I ask, arching a brow. “Are we talking no one caught anything kind of disaster, or the North Star is now a submarine kind of disaster?”
Cass exhales sharply, dragging his hands down his face, his fingers pressing into his temples. “Somewhere between those two,” he mutters. “But a hell of a lot closer to the sinking boat scenario.”
I wait expectantly, Cass exhales sharply, rubbing his face with his hands.
“One of them went overboard.” I freeze. The glass in my grip stops halfway to my mouth.
“ What? What do you mean, ‘went overboard’? Who was it? Are they okay?”
“She’s fine, she’s fine,” JP says quickly, but his jaw is tight, his whole body stiff. “Could’ve been a lot worse.”
“Could’ve been a fucking tragedy,” Cass mutters. “And the shit storm that Graves is going to toss at me…God willing he just never hears about it.”
I narrow my eyes. “Alright. Who is she ? The girl who went over.”
Cass rolls his shoulders, his expression tight, unreadable. “Her name’s Sterling Hart. A new transplant to Twilight Harbor. And Daisy’s new project.” The name tugs at something in my memory.
Sterling Hart. Sterling Hart. I’ve heard that name before.
Then it clicks.
“Sterling Hart?” I repeat, my brows lifting. “Wait, as in, Blake’s new teacher? She’s the one who went overboard?”
And suddenly, I’m laughing. Small towns! It’s so damn ridiculous that it’s funny, even though it’s definitely… not.
The only two Alphas I’ve ever met who go out of their way to avoid entanglements, avoid attachments, avoid the very idea of a bond, stumbled right on top of one who they’re going to see multiple times a week
This is so fucking good.
Before either of them can answer, Blake, who has absolutely no sense of timing, pops his head up from where he’s been digging through a basket of toys in the living room.
“Miss Hart?” he chirps. “She’s nice. And pretty. Grammy took me to play at my new school on Thursday..”
Well, well, well.
I take a drink of my beer, amusement and excitement swirling in my chest. A sudden lightness seeps into my body, chasing away the heaviness that’s been hanging over me, over us, for months.