6. Jake
6
JAKE
T he dream is always the same. Every fucking detail is burned into my brain.
Grace’s flower shop smells like her—wild roses and something softer, sweeter. She’s on the counter, her legs wrapped around my shoulders, fingers gripping the edges of the wood so tightly that her knuckles are white.
I’m on my knees, tasting her like she’s the last thing I’ll ever get to eat. Her thighs tremble, her breaths coming out in these broken little gasps that make my dick ache even in my dream.
Her voice is breathy, desperate. “Jake. Oh, God, Jake.”
I wake up, rock-hard and grinning like an idiot.
I stare at the ceiling for a second, the remnants of the dream still clinging to me like a fucking tease. Then I reach down, because there’s no way I’m starting my day like this.
“Fuck, Grace,” I mutter as my hand moves. The dream replays in my head on a loop—her taste, her sounds, the way her body arched into me.
It doesn’t take long before I’m coming with her name on my lips, biting back the groan so my neighbors don’t hear.
Afterward, I clean up, still smiling like a damn fool.
The shower’s quick, the water hot enough to shake off sleep. I throw on my running shorts, a hoodie, and sneakers before heading to the kitchen.
Tea’s the only thing I’ve got the patience for this early. Coffee makes me jittery, and I’ve already got enough energy buzzing through me.
My favorite part of the morning is next—my run. Or, more accurately, my excuse to see her.
Grace opens her flower shop every morning at the same time. Most days, she’s too distracted arranging flowers in the window or hauling in boxes from her car to notice me jogging by.
But I notice her. Every fucking time.
The way her hair catches the light, the soft concentration on her face. Even the way she wipes her hands on her apron. It’s ridiculous, honestly, how much space she takes up in my head.
Today, though, something’s off.
I round the corner, expecting to see her bending over a crate of roses or setting out those little chalkboard signs she loves. Instead, the “closed” sign is hanging in the window.
My stomach twists.
Grace is never not here.
Outside the shop, Mrs. Clarke is standing with her arms crossed, a frown pulling at her mouth.
“Morning, Mrs. Clarke,” I say, trying to sound casual.
She looks up and gives me a tight smile. “Morning, Jake. Have you seen Grace?”
I stop short. “No, why?”
Mrs. Clarke’s frown deepens. “Harold said he saw her car parked near the cliffs but she wasn’t in it. He thought something might’ve happened, so he sent me to check on her.”
The twisting in my stomach turns into a full-blown knot.
“The cliffs?” My voice comes out sharper than I meant for it to.
She nods. “Yes. It’s odd, isn’t it? Grace is always here by now.”
“When did your husband see her car?”
“Late last night,” she says, “and early this morning.”
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath.
Mrs. Clarke gasps. “Language, young man.”
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “I’ll check on her. Thanks for letting me know.”
Without waiting for her to respond, I turn and sprint back toward my house. My heart’s racing—not from the run, but from the thought of Grace at the cliffs.
The cliffs aren’t safe, especially not at night. And if something’s happened to her?—
The storm.
No . I shake the thought as I reach my driveway and grab my motorcycle keys. Grace is fine. She has to be fine.
I can’t lose her.
The bike roars to life beneath me and I tear out of the driveway, the wind biting against my face.
The cliffs are only ten minutes away, but it feels like an eternity. My mind races faster than the bike, a million worst-case scenarios playing out in my head.
When I finally pull up to the overlook, I see her car parked in the dirt lot. Relief hits me hard, but it’s short-lived when I realize the car is empty.
I park the bike and climb off, scanning the area. “Grace!” I shout, my voice echoing against the rocks.
No answer.
Panic claws at my chest as I move closer to the edge. The waves crash violently against the rocks below, the sound loud enough to drown out anything else. I cannot lose someone else to the cliffs.
I simply won’t survive it.
“Grace!” I yell again.
This time, I hear something—a faint voice coming from the other side of the overlook.
I run toward it, rounding the bend in the path until I spot her.
There she is—Grace, in a white dress, holding a bottle of water and standing on the edge of the ravine. My heart does a stupid, fucked-up flip. There you are.
Her eyes snap to mine, a surprised look crossing her face. “Jake? What are you doing here?”
I let out a deep breath, trying to keep the relief from cracking my voice. “People are worried. You haven’t opened the shop. It’s not like you to be late.”
She looks down at the ground, avoiding my gaze. “Can you help me up? I was down at the ravine to get some… for my car… I ran out of gas and…”
I swallow, nodding. “Yeah, sure.” I reach out to help her, but something’s off. There’s this… sharp, strange scent in the air. It’s musky and heavy, like another Alpha.
It hits me like a punch to the gut, but I keep it cool.
The thought gnaws at my insides—what the hell is she doing out here? With another Alpha? What the fuck happened?
She lets me pull her up, but there’s a distance in her touch. Her eyes dart around, and she’s tense as hell. I notice the way she holds herself, like she’s bracing for something.
“What happened?” I ask, but the words taste wrong in my mouth, like I’m fishing for a fight I don’t want.
“My car ran out of gas,” she repeats, her voice flat. “Had to leave it. There’s no cell signal out here, so I couldn’t get help.”
I nod, a knot forming in my stomach.
“How’d you know where to find me?”
“Mrs. Clarke’s husband saw your car last night. Thought you needed to be checked up on.”
I glance at her car, and I can’t help but feel like something’s missing—something important.
“Your car ran out of gas?” I repeat, trying to make sense of it. “Why didn’t you call me, Grace? I?—”
She cuts me off, arms folding over her chest. There’s that flash of agitation. It doesn’t make sense.
“My phone wouldn’t work due to the storm, Jake. What the fuck do you want me to say?”
I blink, the words hanging between us, harsh and jagged. She’s pissed. Really pissed. I’ve never seen this side of her and it freaking bothers me.
I swallow down whatever else is sitting in my throat. “No, that’s it. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I take the bottle from her, trying to think of something to say that won’t make this worse. But it’s like trying to force something into a broken mold.
“Why are you being so hostile with me?” I ask before I can stop myself, my voice quieter now. “What did I do?”
She glares at me for a moment before answering, voice tight with frustration. “I’m just so fucking tired of the Alphas in this town.”
Ouch. The words hit harder than I expected them to. My chest tightens, and I don’t know if it’s the sting of the insult or the jealousy that’s burning through me.
“Okay, then,” I say, raising both hands in mock surrender. “Whatever they did, I apologize for it.”
Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s clearly in a mood.
“I’m sorry about your car,” I say as I start poking around under the hood. “Your engine seems fine.”
She watches me for a moment, then speaks again. “Okay, thanks. The shop won’t open today. I need… a day to recover.”
I nod, trying to hide the fact that her gruff attitude stings more than it should. “Okay, Grace.”
I move to step back, but hesitate. I want to touch her—just a hand on her arm, something to let her know I’m here.
The way her whole body tenses up as I pause and look at her makes me stop.
She flinches. Hard.
It hits me like a goddamn punch in the chest.
She doesn’t want me near her. I don’t even know what I was hoping for, but this wasn’t it.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “But if anything happens, you tell me, okay? You know where to find me.”
She doesn’t answer right away. Her eyes flicker, and I can see the tears waiting in them. But she doesn’t let them fall.
“I have to go, Jake.”
Her voice cracks just a little, and it fucking shatters me. I want to say something, anything to keep her here, but the words don’t come.
She turns, climbs into her car, and starts it up. The engine rumbles to life and I watch her pull away, the sound of her tires on the gravel echoing in the empty space between us.
I stand there, watching her disappear down the road, and I fucking hate it. I hate that she’s pulling away. I hate that I can’t stop her. And I fucking hate that I know she’s never going to pick me.
But she’s gone.
And I, completely in love with her, just watched her drive off.
I stand there, staring at the empty road, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest. My hand rubs over my heart like it’s gonna fix whatever’s wrong inside me.
I hate coming to these jagged cliffs. It’s like the goddamn place is haunted by ghosts of all the shit I’ve lost.
The sea below crashes and swells like it’s trying to pull me in, but it’s not the water that has my chest in a vice. It’s the pain of remembering—of wishing I could’ve done something different that day.
The wind picks up, sharp and cold, and I rub my chest harder, almost like that’s gonna ease the ache. A couple of minutes pass.
Maybe it’s the isolation of it all, or maybe it’s just the damn quiet in my head that’s louder than the crashing waves.
Either way, I can’t stand being here anymore.
Fuck, I hate this place.
I glance down at the cliffs, a wave of regret hitting me like a freight train. The tears press against the back of my eyes, but I hold them in. I’m not crying today. I won’t.
This spot, this stupid fucking place, always gets to me. I try to remember the good things, the times when life was simple and I wasn’t a broken mess.
But then I think of Lila. My sister. My best friend.
“God, I miss you so much, Lila,” I whisper, my throat thick with the words. I can barely get them out, but they claw at me like I’ve been holding them back for too long.
I take a deep breath, wipe my face, and turn around. I’m not staying here, drowning in memories.
There’s only one thing that might actually calm my head down. Only one place where I might find some peace.
I throw my leg over my bike, kick the engine to life, and start heading back into town.
It’s not much, but going to Lila’s grave always makes me feel closer to her. It’s like she can hear me. Like she’s still with me, somewhere.
I drive in silence, the engine’s hum the only sound filling the air, until I pull up to the cemetery. It’s not much of a place—just a small patch of land on the outskirts of town—but that’s okay. It’s hers.
I’ve been coming here ever since the accident, needing to talk, needing her to know that I haven’t forgotten.
I park my bike and walk up to her grave. It’s simple, just a headstone with her name on it. Lila Marshall. I’ve never been able to leave flowers. Can’t bring myself to.
I stand there for a long time, just staring at it, the weight of all these years pressing on me.
I don’t even know what I’m hoping for. Maybe some kind of sign, something to tell me I’m not a fucking failure. But all I get is the wind and the quiet.
“Hey, Lila,” I say, leaning down in front of her stone. I swallow thickly, try to clear my throat, but it feels like there’s something stuck in there.
“I miss you more than anything. You… you were the only one who ever really understood me. And look at me now. A mess. Just a fucking mess.”
I rub my face with my hand, feeling the familiar sting of regret.
“I keep asking myself why I wasn’t the one who went over the edge that day. Why it was you. God, I should’ve done something. I should’ve known the storm was gonna get worse.”
I look down at the ground, kicking a small rock.
“But I didn’t, and I couldn’t save you. And now, here I am, all these years later, still broken.”
I take another shaky breath, the air too thin in my lungs.
“But there’s someone else now, Lila. I… there’s this girl. Grace Halloway.”
The name feels strange on my tongue, like I’m admitting to something I don’t feel worthy of.
“I’m not sure what it is about her, but I can’t stop thinking about her. Every time I see her, something just... snaps in me, and I can’t let go of her. But I don’t know what the hell to do about it. She’s so much more than me. She’s… she’s a goddamn queen, Lila. You wouldn’t even believe it.”
I laugh bitterly, the sound harsh in the silence around me.
“I don’t know if she sees me like that, though. She’s an Omega, and I’m just… just another fucking Alpha in a town full of Alphas. I don’t know why she would ever want me. Hell, I can’t even get her to open up. She’s always closed off, always on edge, like she’s fighting with the whole damn world. I don’t know why I even think I can change that.”
I shift on my feet, kicking the ground again, trying to make myself focus on something other than the weight in my chest.
“And now there’s… There’s another Alpha. I don’t know who the hell he is, but it’s tearing me apart. I thought I could deal with it. I thought I could win her over with time, that I could believe she was mine—but she was with him. I could smell him on her. And that shit is eating me alive.”
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I pace a few steps in front of her grave.
“I don’t get it. I don’t get why I’m still here, still fucking chasing after her, when it’s obvious I’m not good enough. But I can’t stop. I can’t stop wanting her.”
I laugh again, the sound bitter and broken.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I just—fuck—I miss you. I miss you so goddamn much, Lila. You were the one who kept me grounded. You were the one who told me that I could be more than just another angry Alpha. But now… now I’m just here, staring at your grave, hoping to hear something—anything—that tells me I’m not fucked beyond repair.”
I pause, my voice cracking. “I need you, Lila. I need you to tell me it’s gonna be okay. That I can go after Grace. That I’m not just a fucking fool. That I deserve to be happy.”
I stay there for a while, letting the silence wrap around me, trying to hold on to whatever part of her is still with me. But in the end, there’s nothing but silence.
“Goodbye, Lila. I love you. I’ll always love you.”
And with that, I turn, wiping my eyes, and leave the cemetery.