Epilogue
JP
I’ve been staring at the projector screen for ten minutes now, the opening credits of Sterling’s favorite movie paused and glowing in the dusk light. Bridget Jones’s Diary. Why she loves it enough to watch it once a month is beyond me.
But I fucking love watching her watch it—so I don’t care.
The movie’s queued up. Twinkle lights stretch from the old oak tree to the fence line, casting soft halos across the yard.
I hauled every blanket and pillow we own out here, layering them into a massive, nest-shaped heap big enough for more than just movie-watching.
I wanted it to feel like magic. Like safety. Like something only for her.
I shipped Blake off to his grandmother—lovingly.
Her favorite drinks are chilling in a cooler. Popcorn’s dusted with that cinnamon sugar she likes. And I lit enough candles to summon a coven.
Even the weather’s cooperating. It was weirdly sunny and warm today, leaving the evening almost balmy.
All that’s missing is the girl.
Daisy texted twenty minutes ago:
We’re almost there. She’s happy and sleepy. I’ve properly spoiled our birthday girl. Hope you’re ready—she wants to come home, and I’m out of distractions.
Ready?
I’ve been ready since sunrise.
Had the harbor crew stall Cass and Quinn on the boat all day—fake maintenance emergencies, endless equipment checks, charter logs that mysteriously disappeared.
I didn’t even have to twist their arms that hard; they liked the idea of giving Cass a hard time.
But by hour six, they were starting to get suspicious.
Still, I needed tonight. Just her and me.
Selfish. Intentional. Worth it.
When I hear Daisy’s bright, boisterous laugh float through the house, I tense. And then the back door creaks open.
Sterling steps out in a soft green sweater and worn denim cutoffs, her bare feet distracting as she pads across the cool grass. Her pretty legs are on full display, and I find myself absurdly grateful for the surprise warm snap today.
Her eyes widen, lips parting in a smile so luminous it washes over me like sunshine. She blinks up at the twinkle lights like she’s stepped into a dream.
And I forget how to fucking breathe.
“JP… it’s amazing.”
The soft, sweet way she says my name is mesmerizing.
Even though I love that our girl is a spitfire with a backbone made of steel—and her nickname is well earned—I crave the way she saves her softness for us.
I’m already moving, closing the space between us. I shoot Daisy a grateful nod as she slips away, then pull Sterling into my arms.
“Happy birthday, warpath,” I murmur into her hair, letting my nose trail up the column of her throat until I’m buried in the lush mess of curls at her crown. I breathe her in like I’ve been starving.
She melts against me, arms looped around my neck, warm and soft and entirely mine.
“You did all this?” she whispers, wonder soaking every word.
I kiss her—deep and hungry—drunk on the slide of her tongue as she meets me stroke for stroke. But I pull back, breaking the kiss with effort.
I’d planned to feed her, snuggle her, and spoil her into oblivion before anything else.
“Wanted to make you feel special.”
And not for the first time, I wish I knew how to do gentle.
I sound gruff, but she always sees through it. She always sees through all my shit—right to me.
Her eyes shine. “You already do. Every day.”
I twine my fingers through hers and tug her gently toward the old oak. “Come see.”
As we round the corner, she gasps, peeking around me.
Twinkle lights sway gently from the tree limbs, glowing gold against the violet sky. Below them, the nest—blankets and pillows in a massive, glorious pile—waits.
Sterling breaks free from my hand with a squeal and runs.
She leaps into the nest, rolling through the pillows like a puppy, giggling as she sinks into the center with a squeaky bounce and lets her body melt into it with a sigh.
My Alpha hums with approval and joy at giving our Omega something she loves.
The way she went from bouncing puppy to melted goo makes me laugh—so hard it bursts straight out of my chest.
“Like it?”
Her only answer is a long, drawn-out sound—somewhere between a moan and a sigh.
God, I fucking love this woman.
I follow her down into the riot of textures and plush and pull her into the curve of my arms until she’s wedged so tight against my side, I can feel her warmth everywhere. I hit play.
As she settles into the movie, I notice the way her lips move, silently mouthing the lines. She’s seen this one so many times, she knows it by heart.
My fingers trail the soft curve of her hips, then drift up to trace the line of her ribs—memorizing her all over again. Knowing, deep in my bones, that nothing will ever be better than this.
We make it halfway through the first half before the touching starts to change.
Hands slide slower.
Fingers press harder.
Breaths come faster.
Her hands slip under my shirt—no longer pretending to care about the movie.
“Woman, you’re ruining me,” I groan as her hands dip lower, brushing against my cock through my jeans. I’m so hard I ache.
With a growl, I slip my hands under her arms and pull her flush on top of me. Her lush curves press into me, warm and soft and fucking perfect.
She straddles me slow, thighs bare where her cutoffs have ridden up high, her scent thick in the air—sweet, cinnamon-laced, laced with arousal.
All mine , my Alpha roars.
And I’m struck again by how lucky I am.
Then she grinds her heat against me, and the pressure is pure, electric sensation. My brain short-circuits. She makes me feel out of control.
I grab her hips and thrust up against her, and she falls forward with a groan, lips parting.
“I don’t deserve you,” she whispers, brushing her nose against mine.
I grunt, sliding my hands up her thighs until my fingers disappear beneath the edge of her shorts. My thumb brushes over the tight little bud hidden beneath her panties—and she’s soaked.
Dripping with slick.
“Yeah, you do,” I growl, voice rough with need.
She turns her head like she might hide, but I’m not letting her go anywhere. I pull my hand away from the silky skin of her thigh just long enough to catch her chin, guiding her gaze back to mine—those wide, baby-blue eyes already glazed with want.
“You give me a gift every morning I wake up next to you,” I murmur. “Every night I come home to you. Every time you wrap your arms around Blake and call him yours.”
I stroke her jaw with my thumb, gentle despite the heat roaring in my chest.
“Little warpath, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you. But I’m never letting you go. Not ever. And I swear to you—I’ll never stop trying to be good enough for you. Every breath that leaves my body will be for loving you, protecting you, choosing you. Always.”
“I love you.” Her voice is little more than a breathy exhale as she leans down to kiss me again.
I don’t know when three little words got the power to make a man...
But in them, I’m reborn.
Her sweet words break me open and turn me inside out—just like they do every damn time she says them.
This fucking woman unravels me.
I’d planned to hold back, let her relax, let her feel adored without heat or pressure.
But when she licks the edge of my jaw and rolls her hips just so?—
“Yes,” I groan. “Sterling…”
She presses closer, whispering in my ear. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
I feel like I’ve somehow stolen the last cookie—sweet, warm, and just for me—and gotten away with it.
She’s in my lap, soft and flushed and smiling like I hung the stars just for her. And for a second, I let myself believe I might get to keep her like this. All to myself.
I’m about to flip us over and ravish her properly—kiss every inch of that perfect body, make her forget her own name—when I hear it.
The click of the gate.
Followed by Quinn’s voice. “Hey, JP, we brought?—”
Cass swears.
Sterling freezes. And a deep blush floods her cheeks.
I glance over her shoulder and see both Alphas standing at the edge of the yard—bags in hand, shoulders tense.
“I told you not to come home yet,” I snap, flopping back onto the cozy nest in mock defeat.
Truth is, her, them, me—we’re all part of the same current. One pack. One pulse. I don’t work without them… any of them.
Cass mutters, “We had a feeling something was going on. You weren’t answering.”
Quinn lifts a cupcake like it’s a peace offering. “Also, I was hungry.”
Cass scowls and puffs out his chest, trying to look intimidating. It doesn’t land. He mostly looks… disappointed.
“Anyway, asshole, you can’t keep Sterling to yourself on her birthday.”
There’s no bite in his voice—just warmth and the kind of teasing affection only someone who loves you can get away with.
Sterling doesn’t look even a little embarrassed to be caught straddling me in the middle of the yard.
Though the blush that tints her cheeks is adorable .
She doesn’t flinch or look flustered.
She laughs. “Well, someone had to enjoy the surprise while we waited for you two…”
Quinn smirks. “I can see that.”
Cass tilts his head toward me. “That’s what you get for trying to hoard her… Plus, you were giddy as fuck this morning. It was… suspicious.”
“I didn’t hoard her. And I wasn’t giddy,” I grumble.
Though I sure as hell was.
Sterling leans into my chest, grinning, and pokes me in the side. “You absolutely hoarded me.”
“I was being romantic,” I mutter.
“You were plotting,” Quinn counters, kneeling beside us. “And now we’re here to ruin it. With love.”
Sterling laughs, eyes soft as she looks at all of us. “You’re not ruining anything. Besides, it was cute.”
Cass crouches behind her, one hand settling low on her back. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
He leans in for a kiss, and I don’t miss the way he scent-marks her with the slow slide of his cheek along hers as he stands.
He can’t seem to help himself—and honestly, I don’t blame him. It’s still hard to leave her. I don’t like my Omega out of my sight.
“I missed you guys today,” she says with the slightest pout.