20. Quinn #2
“So get this—first day in the dorm, I walk into the community kitchen space and there’s this guy, trying to microwave an entire fish. A whole fish. Head, tail, the works. In plastic wrap.”
Cass groans from the table. “It was for a lab project.”
“It was because dude got dared and couldn’t say no,” I shoot back, smirking.
“The microwave caught fire. I jumped in to try and put out the fire and I was suddenly an accessory. Whole floor had to be evacuated. I didn’t even unpack before we were out on the lawn getting yelled at by campus security. ”
Sterling’s eyes are wide, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Anyway,” I say, still grinning, “Cass was studying ocean science, I was in the business program. Total opposites. But somehow we didn’t kill each other. Or maybe that was the start of the pack bond—trauma forged in fish smoke.”
Cass flips me off without looking up from his phone, and I just laugh.
She nods, her eyes flickering between us, lips parting slightly like she’s trying to absorb every detail.
And I can’t lie—I like the way her interest feels. It lights something up in me. Makes me feel a little giddy, and hopeful. I want her to like us. To see it. To want to belong to it.
The conversation circles back to Blake—how he changed everything for me. For us.
Then her voice drops, soft and reverent, something lonely glinting beneath the words?—
“He’s lucky to have you.” There’s more in her tone than just kindness. It’s wistful and weighted.
Her wistful tone tells me her childhood wasn’t like Blake’s. She didn’t have this. Not safety or softness. Not the kind of love a child should grow up surrounded by.
“We’re lucky to have him,” I say, my voice rougher than I mean it to be.
She smiles, small, but real. And the silence stretches.
And then, like she needs to fill the space, she glances around, taking in the high ceilings, the worn-in furniture, the soft glow of the kitchen lights.
“Your house is beautiful.” She runs her fingers along the edge of the island. “I mean, I don’t know what I expected, but…it’s cozy.” She laughs. “Is that a weird thing to say?”
Cass lets out a small laugh, flipping a piece of chicken in the pan just as I step in beside him and relieve him of the tongs—mostly out of fear that his cooking curse is about to strike again.
“It’s not weird,” he mutters, nudging me with his elbow. “We do what we can. Not always easy with three of us working and a tiny tornado tearing through the house.”
JP smirks, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.
“It used to be a lot less cozy before we had a kid to raise,” he says. “Now, it's just organized chaos.”
Sterling laughs, the sound infectious, easing something tense in my chest.
“Well, it’s the kind of chaos I like,” she says, taking a sip of her water.
And I swear to God, I’ve never needed a person more. The feel of it is so surprising that I file it away for later.
Cass pulls out a chair for her, and she hesitates just a second before slipping into it, looking small in our space, still unsure.
I watch the way her fingers twist the ring on her finger, how she keeps her hands busy, how she tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear before reaching for her glass.
She’s nervous.
“What about you?” I ask, leaning forward slightly, hands on the island, my voice intentionally soft and steady. “How’d you end up in Twilight Harbor?”
A simple question.
But the way her face pales tells me it’s not a simple answer. There’s hurt there—layers of it—and I instantly regret asking. I’m cursing myself for making things weird.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, rubbing the back of my neck. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s totally fine.”
Sterling swallows hard, lifts her glass, and takes a sip of water like she needs the pause to steady herself.
“No, it’s fine,” she says eventually, voice light—too light. Forced around the edges. “I guess I just needed a fresh start.”
A beat passes before she adds, “Twilight Harbor was the farthest place from my parents and the town I grew up in that offered me a teaching position…so I took it. And here I am.”
I catch the way JP and Cass glance at each other, both of them picking up on the carefully crafted and emotionally devoid way she says it.
“Where from?” JP asks, voice unreadable.
“Kansas,” she answers, finally meeting my gaze. “Born and raised.”
Cass lets out a short huff of surprise. “Didn’t take you for a Midwest girl.”
Sterling smiles slightly, shrugging. “It’s not a bad place. Just…not for me.”
“What’s back there?” I ask carefully.
She hesitates.
Then, after a long pause?—
“Besides acres and acres of wheat? My parents. And my sister,” she says, giving a small shrug. “They own a small dairy farm outside of Wichita.”
“Was your mom an Omega?” I ask, careful not to push too hard.
Sterling shakes her head. “No, she’s a Beta. She was part of her sister’s pack.”
She trails off then, like there’s more to say but she’s not ready to say it. The air between us holds that quiet, unfinished edge.
Cass lets out a low whistle. “That must’ve been…interesting.”
Sterling lets out a small laugh, though there’s no real humor in it. “That’s one word for it.”
“Are you close with them?” I ask.
Another pause.
Then she gives a half-shrug, eyes fixed on her glass. “Not really. They wanted something else for me. They didn’t like that I wanted to go to college, get a degree…do something on my own.”
Cass’s scowl is instant. “What, they just wanted you barefoot and pregnant?”
His voice is sharp with irritation, a protective edge threading through every word. Out of all of us, he knows what it means when an Omega doesn’t fit the mold someone else tries to force her into.
And he clearly doesn’t like the picture Sterling’s starting to paint.
Sterling lets out another dry laugh that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Something like that.” But it’s clear she is uncomfortable and done with the current conversation.
JP, who’s been watching her carefully, asks, “What’d you study?”
Her expression softens slightly, happy for the change of subject. “Early childhood education. I always wanted to teach. I love the littles.”
I smile at her. “You’re good at it.”
She blushes, her eyes dropping to her lap. “Thanks. This is my first position, and I didn’t know how much I’d like it. Though…Blake does make it easy.”
There’s a brief silence. The kind that stretches, pulls.
And then I ask the question that’s been eating me alive all evening. “What about a boyfriend? Someone back home? Someone here caught your interest?”
The air in the room stands still. She stands still. And then her head drops, just slightly, just enough for us to notice.
Sterling takes a slow breath, lifts her head, and gives us a smile that isn’t quite convincing. “That would be a no,” she says softly. “I’ve never really been all that interesting to Alphas. Or anyone, honestly.”
The words land with a self-deprecating edge, casual on the surface—but underneath, there’s a quiet ache. Like she’s made peace with being overlooked. Like she’s convinced herself she’s not the kind of girl anyone chooses—and she’s learned to live with it.
She deserves better. I want to be the one who shows her that.
“I find that hard to believe,” JP says, voice unwavering and eyes locked on her like he’s seeing something the rest of the world missed.
Sterling shrugs, brushing it off like it’s nothing. “I did date an Alpha for a while,” she admits, glancing down. “But…it didn’t work out. Then I decided I needed bigger horizons.”
She waves a hand, like that’s the end of it. No big deal. But her scent shifts—sweet and spiced one moment, then soured by something sharp and buried the next.
And just like that, I know. There’s a hell of a lot more to this story.
“What happened?” JP asks, his voice low and rough, like the words cost him something to say.
Sterling shifts in her seat. “Nothing really. Just…someone I met after high school who turned out to not be as charming as he seemed.” Her voice is even, but the way her cheeks flush and her gaze drops tells a different story.
She doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t have to. She’s clearly uncomfortable, and the direction of the conversation is pressing against something she’s not ready to share.
Cass leans forward slightly, his whole body taut, radiating something sharp and dangerous. His voice is low, deadly serious.
“Did he hurt you?”
Sterling’s head snaps up, eyes wide—startled by the sudden intensity in the room.
She shakes her head quickly. “No. Nothing like that.”
Lie.
I don’t know how I know, but I do.
Cass and JP feel it too—I can feel the bond tighten between us. The subtle shift in her scent, the way she folds in on herself just a little. She won’t meet our eyes. Her cinnamon-sweet scent dips, tinged now with something sharper. Uncomfortable. Defensive.
She’s thinking about leaving. I see it in the way her shoulders inch toward the door. Too much Alpha energy. Too many eyes. Too many questions.
Every part of me wants to press. To demand the truth. To protect her.
But I already know—she’s done talking. At least for now.
I take a moment to send a wave of steady reassurance meant to level the air through the bond. Easy , I think. Breathe. Don’t scare her off .
“What’s it like?” she asks suddenly, turning the conversation away from herself.
“What’s what like?” Cass asks, trying to get back to stirring a drink for her. Sterling gestures between us, tilting her head slightly, taking a whiff and sipping the mixed drink Cass just set in front of her. “Being a pack.”
The tension in the air eases, just slightly.
I smile, leaning back a little. “It’s…a lot of things.”
JP gives a slow nod. “Complicated. Good. Hard sometimes.”
Cass just shrugs. “Worth it.”
Sterling’s lips part slightly, and there’s something soft in her expression. Something unguarded and almost wistful.
“Sounds nice,” she says quietly.
I catch it—that subtle note of longing in her voice. Like maybe she doesn’t even realize how much she wants this.
How much she deserves it.
How much she’s already wanted.
By all three of us.