36. Sterling
STERLING
A whole week.
That’s how long it’s been since I surfaced from the warm haze of my first heat, from the tangle of limbs and scent and safety that was my nest. Since the Alphas—my Alphas—held me like I was something precious and not just a girl who once thought she didn’t need anyone.
A week since I let them take care of me, knot me, hold me.
I haven’t seen them since I kicked them out last Friday. Not because they didn’t try or I didn’t want them to stay. Oh no, they tried. My phone has been a nonstop assault of texts, voice messages, nearly daily check-ins and ridiculous emojis—most of them from Quinn.
Daisy ended up canceling our girl date last weekend too, and thank God she did because I hadn’t had the strength to put on real pants, let alone carry on a conversation.
JP didn’t text.
But I haven’t responded to any of them the way I want to. Not really. I’ve been too busy catching up on lesson plans, navigating a week’s worth of unplanned missed instructional days, catching up with my team, and recovering from what I now understand is the hormonal equivalent of a supernova.
And I still feel…raw.
Like my skin is too thin. Like my heart is this tender, easily bruised thing. I spent two out of the five lunch times this week crying in the bathroom.
I haven’t left the house all week except for work. And even then, I’ve barely had the energy to do more than dress in clean clothes and shove my hair in a bun.
But now it’s Friday and tonight, I’m ready.
I shave my legs, put on mascara and slip on my favorite skirt—the one that swishes when I walk and hits just at my knees—and pair it with a top that technically qualifies as “sexy casual.”
I also pull on my favorite cowboy boots. I feel cute. And that’s a really nice feeling.
I’m meeting Daisy at Danver’s. I need this no matter how many cinnamon rolls those Alphas send me.
I pull into the gravel lot just as the sun sets over Twilight Harbor.
Danver’s glows like a lantern on Main Street.
The antique and maybe original gas lanterns flicker on each side of the door cast a warm, golden glow on the sidewalk, and tonight the old school fireplace I’ve heard about must be lit because the smell of wood smoke snakes lightly through the air.
It’s my first time here, and Daisy assured me it was a quaint local haunt and wouldn’t be overrun with tourists.
What she didn’t mention was that it would be completely overrun with townies.
Inside, it feels like everyone under the age of eighty who lives in Twilight Harbor is packed into this place.
I recognize a bunch of faces from around town, but there are just as many I don’t.
The crowd is a mix—dockworkers, fishermen, an even spread of Omegas and Alphas, and quite a few Betas playing pool, throwing darts, and crowding the bar.
It’s a big melting pot, and I feel instantly comfortable.
And then, of course, there’s Daisy—already holding down a high-top near the bar, two cocktails in front of her and a grin that could slice a man in half.
She waves me over the second she sees me. “Oh my God, look at you. You look cute as fuck! Is this post-heat hormones or what happens after multiple orgasms?”
I snort. “It’s exhaustion and dry shampoo, but thanks.”
She slides the second drink toward me. “Whiskey and ginger juice. You’re welcome.”
I take a sip and sigh. Sweet, sharp, just the right amount of bite. “You are a breath of fresh air,” I say, laughing.
“I know,” she replies, flipping her curls—only for them to fall right back where they were.
Daisy’s dressed casually in well-worn jeans and a tight t-shirt that says Paulsens’ Pearl Divers with an oyster shell printed underneath. I blink at the shirt and wonder for a second if she actually dives for pearls.
Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised. She’s the kind of woman who could say “Oh, I moonlight as a mermaid,” and I’d believe her.
She looks adorable in that soft, understated, tomboy kind of way—like she’d call herself boring, meanwhile every man within a six-hour radius is checking her out.
“Now, tell me everything,” she says, sliding one of the cocktails across the table to me. “And don’t forget to remind me to hassle Gen for my winnings.”
“Winnings?” I ask, eyebrows lifting.
“Yeah.” She grins shamelessly. “I told her you’d be knotted and packed up before Halloween. She said Christmas. The pool was up to two hundred bucks.”
I choke on my drink. “You’re not even gonna pretend to ease into that?”
“Nope,” Daisy says cheerfully, sipping her drink.
“You’ve been MIA for almost two weeks. And the last thing I heard—before your text last weekend—was my brother texting me that you were mid-heat, and that he was taking care of you…
and that I needed to fuck right off.” Her grin widens.
“Said with the utmost sibling love, of course. So—spill.”
I glance around, suddenly hyper-aware that this is a small-town bar and I’m talking about being knotted. But no one’s paying us any attention, and Daisy has her back to most of the room.
I lean in, trying to figure out how to even begin, my whole body flushing so hot I’m surprised the glass doesn’t fog up in my hand. “Okay, um…it was nice.”
“Nice?” Daisy screeches, and at least half a dozen heads swivel our way.
I wave a frantic hand at her, hissing, “Shhh!”
She leans in like she’s about to stage an intervention, eyes wide with mock outrage. “Nice? Give me a break, girl. You spent three days being fucked six ways from Sunday by Pack Redgrave and all you’ve got to say is…nice?” she whisper-yells the last part, and I cringe into my cocktail.
I clear my throat. “It was… really nice?” I try again and she just leans back, rolling her eyes and takes a big drink of her cocktail. It’s a large and obnoxious concoction that has an umbrella and a puff of what I think is cotton candy.
“You’re hopeless,” she groans, but she’s grinning.
“It was amazing. I just don’t really know how to talk about it. I feel like I went from a girl who’s never been kissed to a full-on woman of seduction overnight.” I laugh, shaking my head. “I just feel…different. And I don’t know if it’s the whole first heat thing or if it’s them or if it’s both.”
“I’d bet good money it’s both,” she says, squeezing my hand. “But let’s be honest—those boys have serious big dick energy, so that can’t hurt either.”
We both laugh, but then she sobers, her expression softening. “In all seriousness, though…they took care of you?”
“They did,” I say quietly, warmth blooming in my chest. “Better than I ever could’ve expected.
” I think about the bags and bags of groceries that showed up in the days after—enough to stock a small bunker.
“I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, but I do know I want to keep doing it. ” I laugh again, blushing fiercely.
Her face softens. “Even JP? Was he there for you?” she asks, gentler this time.
“He didn’t…participate.” I swallow. “But he stayed. He was there when I blacked out, when I couldn’t even get to my phone. He helped get me to the nest. He kept me hydrated, he—” My voice cracks when I remember how JP felt beneath me.
“He…what?”
“When I woke up in the middle of the night after they found me…I woke up on top of him. Grinding against him.” I wince. “And I kissed him.”
Daisy’s mouth drops open. “No. You did not.”
“Oh, I did,” I whisper. “And he kissed me back. Hard. But when he realized what was happening, he left. Not before calling the others, though. They were the ones who…y’know. Took care of me during the heat stuff.”
“Damn.” She fans herself with her menu. “I mean, I know it must have been scary and intense and a million other things, but damn! I’m just so happy for you.”
I nod, emotion catching in my throat again. “Yeah, me, too. We haven’t really talked about it but I think we are going to try and make this something. At least Cass and Quinn have been clear about wanting to take it further. But JP…”
“He’s scared,” Daisy says immediately, when I pause. “That man is like a brick wall with feelings written on the other side in invisible ink. You can’t read him without lighting a match.”
“Exactly. And I’m not trying to force anything, but—” I exhale. “I want him. I want them. And I just…I don’t know if I can make my instincts not want him. And if he doesn’t want me…I just don’t know…this dance we’re doing is exhausting.”
Daisy clinks her glass against mine. “Then maybe it’s time you stop dancing.”
We’re halfway through our second drink when an Alpha strolls over—tall, sandy-haired, very much not one of mine. He smiles easy, like someone used to getting his way, someone who is not used to hearing women say no, and leans a hand on the table. But in a harmless, friendly sort of way.
“Evening, ladies. You two from around here?”
Daisy smirks. “Born and raised. Why?”
“Because I think I just found the prettiest thing in the whole damn town.”
My snort is unintentional. “Which of us are you talking to?”
He laughs, clearly not offended. “Whichever one of you laughs like that again. Damn, that’s cute.”
I roll my eyes but smile despite myself. “Smooth.”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a woman who snorts when she laughs.” I snort again, I can’t help it.
And that’s when the air shifts.
My whole body prickles with awareness. All the energy in the room being sucked out, or rather, sucked in, to the man who just walked in.
JP.
He walks into Danver’s like a storm front, tall and broad and impossible to ignore. His hair’s damp with the mist that rolls in every evening, and his waxed canvas coat hugs his shoulders in a way that makes it hard to breathe.
I can see a band shirt underneath his jacket, and I itch to slide my hands beneath the fabric. To caress what I already know is acres of abs, muscle, and warm skin. He might look like a cold-ass son of a bitch, but JP is all heat.
His eyes immediately snap to mine, and in that flash of recognition, I can tell he’s just as shocked to see me here as I am to see him.