Chapter thirty-six #2
When he finally does, he looks off. Not obvious, but if you know where to look—you can see it around his eyes. He’s nervous. Whatever Brennan told him isn’t good.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Fine. Family stuff.” He smiles, but it’s all surface. “Would you mind waiting here for a few minutes? I need to talk to my pack. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
He introduces me to a beta woman, Leah. She’s a family friend, chatty, clearly used to playing babysitter at these things.
She keeps me talking about myself while I watch the Carrs huddle up in the corner.
Jeremy’s talking, Leo looks pissed, Theo stares at the floor, Michael’s fists are jammed in his pockets.
Whatever Brennan told him, he’s telling his pack now. They don’t like it.
When they come back, all four together, they’re different. The old warmth is still there, but it’s sitting on top of something else now—a restless, electric tension.
“Time to go,” Jeremy says.
In the truck, I end up in the back seat between Theo and Michael, their thighs pressed against mine. Their scents fold together pleasantly. Nobody talks. I can feel the tension bouncing between them anyway.
I notice we’re not driving the way we came.
“Jeremy? This isn’t the way to the Santos house.”
“We’re making a quick stop first. Won’t take long.”
“A stop where?”
“My place. There’s something I want to show you.”
The nerves kick in. Late at night, alone in a car with four alphas I don’t know that well, and suddenly we’re off route. “Can I call Gabriel? Just to let him know—“
“It won’t take long, Lily. I promise.”
Theo reaches over and squeezes my hand. I let the gesture calm me down, even though everything in me is screaming.
This is how women disappear.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I know that. But nothing about the Carrs has ever felt unsafe.
Maybe that’s the problem.
We turn into a driveway. The house is huge, fancy, tucked back from the road. Soft light spills from the windows. The lawn is perfect. A house that says you’ll never want for anything.
“Where are we?” I ask, even though I already know.
“Home,” Jeremy says. “Our home. Come in. I only want to show you.”
Michael opens my door, offers his hand. I take it and follow them inside. Sitting alone in the truck is worse. And even now, I don’t think the Carrs would actually hurt me.
The inside is gorgeous. Clean, open, bright.
The kitchen looks magazine-staged. The living room could fit a soccer team.
Jeremy pours me wine and the others pour scotch.
We sit together, and for a second the careful semicircle they’ve made around me feels like an audition for a life I haven’t agreed to try.
“I want to talk about where you are in your decision,” Jeremy says.
I pause, surprised by his abruptness. “I’m still thinking. About everything.”
“I thought there was a time limit on staying with the Santos pack.”
“There was. But things changed. Miles came around and they offered me more time.”
The Carrs exchange a look. A whole conversation in a split second.
I don’t want to lose them as an option, so I rush to add: “I really do like you. All of you. But I need to be sure. A claiming is meant to last forever.”
He nods, smiling, but there’s disappointment in it. “Of course. Take your time.”
He walks around to me. “Let me show you around. I want you to see what you’d be coming home to.”
He gives me the tour. His office, tidy and organized, shelves lined with books. Each pack member’s bedroom, personal—photos, lived-in clutter. Bathrooms with thick white towels. A library with a reading nook that gets me, just a little.
At the end of the hall, there’s a door. The pack room.
He opens it for me. The room is huge, the bed even bigger. He looks me straight in the eyes.
“You have nothing to worry about. You’re safe here, Lily.”
I step in after him.
The bed is impressive, but the closet stops me cold.
He opens the double doors. It’s the kind of closet omegas fantasize about. Nesting materials in every color and fabric. Pillows in every shape. Silk, cashmere, things softer than that. Organized. Gorgeous. Someone spent real time and money on this.
I can’t help it. I reach in, running my fingers over a cream throw that feels better than anything I’ve ever owned.
“You’re already set up for an omega,” I say.
He nods, leaning against the doorframe, watching me touch everything. “We’ve been preparing for a long time.”
“And you haven’t found anyone? I bet omegas line up for this.”
“There have been a few.”
“What happened?”
“We turned them down.” He lowers his voice. “After we met you. Three of them.”
The words sink in. Three. Three chances to complete their pack. And they said no to every one because of me.
“You turned down three omegas,” I repeat.
“We knew what we wanted. Who we wanted.” He steps closer, not threatening. “We’re waiting for you, Lily. However long it takes.”
I just stand there, surrounded by the softest blankets and the scent of an alpha offering everything I was taught to want: certainty, stability, loyalty. The Carrs are generous, patient, and they want me. They’re offering a life most would kill for.
But when I close my eyes, I don’t see this closet.
I see Miles’s nest. The messy pile of old hoodies and worn-out blankets, layered thick with Santos scent. Gabriel kneeling to apologize to me. Garrett’s hand grabbing mine on a roller coaster. Cyrus memorizing paint colors from a ruined canvas so he could get it right for me.
Leaving them now, when it’s just starting to feel right—I can’t even breathe around the thought.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m not ready to say yes.”
Jeremy nods. He tries to hide it, but the letdown is there. “We’ll wait,” he says. “You’re worth it.”
The drive home is silent.
This pack is so nice, I hate letting them down. But I’m starting to realize nice isn’t enough.
When we get to the Santos house, I tell the others goodbye, and Jeremy walks me to the porch. The light is on. He stands close, his scent drifting around me, and looks at me like he’s already decided.
“Thank you for tonight,” I say.
“Thank you for coming.” He leans in and kisses me. Gentle. Soft. A first kiss that should sweep me off my feet. Sweet, warm, textbook.
It’s only… nice. Disappointingly nice after what I’ve experienced recently.
The front door opens. Gabriel’s there, fists clenched at his sides. He doesn’t say anything, but his cedar and smoke spike before he locks it down. He’d never admit it, but the jealousy’s there.
Jeremy pulls back, nods at Gabriel. “Good night, Gabriel.”
“Good night, Jeremy.” Flat. Professional. Polite only because it’d be rude to break Jeremy’s jaw on the porch.
He leaves and I step in. Gabriel closes the door behind me. The entryway fills with Jeremy’s scent that’s still clinging to my skin.
He doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me, then turns and walks away.
Miles is in the living room, standing by the window, arms crossed. He saw the kiss.
“You kissed that fucking prude.”
“It was a date, Miles.”
“You kissed him. On our porch. Where I can see.”
“This is what you wanted, remember? You wanted me to find a pack. I’m trying.”
Miles just stares. Anger, but it’s not just at me. It’s at the thing he won’t name.
“Get a shower,” he says. “You stink like beige alpha.”
“Miles—“
“And brush your teeth before you come to the nest. I don’t want it contaminated with the prude.”
He stalks off toward the pack room.
I’m left standing in the hallway, dress wrinkled, the kiss still on my mouth, the wildflowers drooping in a glass on the kitchen counter. I look at Gabriel. He looks back with sympathy on his face.
“Better get that shower,” he says.
So I shower. I brush my teeth. Pull on pajamas and go to Miles’s nest, because he told me to and I’ve never been good at telling him no.
He’s already there, curled up and facing away. When I climb in, he reaches back and pulls me close, his arm tight around my waist, nose pressed to the spot on my neck he likes best.
He breathes in, slow. My scent, clean and his now, nothing left of the Carr pack.
“Don’t kiss him again,” he says into my skin.
It’s not a request. It’s the closest Miles can get to asking me to pick him without actually saying it.
I don’t answer. I just nestle back against him and let him hold me, thinking about how long it’ll take before any of us can admit what this really is.