In the Car
Knox
The drive home is peaceful. The radio’s tuned to a classic rock station, the sound of gritty guitar riffs and scratchy vocals vibrating around me. It’s the same kind of music that used to make Alex groan every time we drove together, muttering about how “old man rock” was killing his brain cells.
Humming along, I tap my fingers in time with the beat, trying to shake off what’s left of my agitation.
It’s been one hell of a day.
Not bad—long.
I grip the wheel a little tighter as I turn into the neighborhood, the cut across my knuckles stinging like it wants to remind me of every punch I threw.
I fucking hate collecting other alphas for Marc. They always put up a fight—half pride, half stupidity—and it’s never clean. A good brawl used to clear my head, but that was before I had an omega waiting at home.
Now every hit is a bruise she might see.
And the last thing I want is for Skyla to find out how I make my money.
She’s all soft edges and quiet grace, a lady through and through.
She’s used to polished alphas with high-profile jobs and clean hands.
Not guys like me, who spend their days dragging grifters out of gated driveways for a loan shark boss.
I flex my hand once, watching blood bead along the scab before the sting fades.
At least it’s small.
When I pull up to the house, Tadeo’s car isn’t in the driveway. I’m sure he’s working late again. The CEO has been riding the whole company hard lately, trying to up their numbers for some promising investors. I make a mental note to check on him later, then head up the walk.
The moment I step inside, I stop dead.
What’s left of my recliner—my favorite damn recliner—is sitting in a sad, splintered pile in the middle of the living room.
For a heartbeat, all I feel is dread. My stomach drops, a dozen possibilities hitting at once. Was the house broken into? Did someone get hurt?
But then laughter drifts from down the hall, light and unrestrained. Skyla’s voice hits my ears first, sweet and breathless. Followed by Alex’s deep, rumbling laugh and Dakota’s helpless wheeze.
I let out a slow breath, tension easing from my shoulders. Whatever happened, they’re clearly fine.
I eye the wreckage one more time and mutter under my breath, “I loved that chair.”
Then I follow the sound of their laughter down the hall. The bedroom door’s half open. Warm light spills out into the hallway, flickering from the string of twinkly lights Sky hung along the back wall. I pause in the doorway, taking in the sight before me.
Skyla’s nestled in the center of her nest, surrounded by blankets, pillows, and the faint scent of peonies and musk.
Dakota’s sprawled beside her, bare feet crossed, wearing soft gray joggers and one of my old T-shirts that hangs loose on his frame.
Alex is on her other side in only a pair of black sweatpants, his hair still damp from a shower.
They look so sweet and comfortable. All that’s missing is Tadeo.
Sky’s laughing at something Dakota said, her face open and easy.
It's so bizarre how clearly I can feel her.
The soft pulse of our bond hums low in the back of my mind. Warm, golden, and full of her quiet joy. Her happiness washes through me, sweet and gentle, and I can’t help the smile that pulls across my face. She feels good in my head.
I linger there, soaking it in.
Then Alex’s head tilts, his easy laughter fading as he glances toward the doorway. His blue eyes catch mine, and the grin that spreads across his face is pure trouble.
“Hey, babe.”
I lift an eyebrow, stepping farther into the room. “What happened to my chair?”
The laughter instantly dies.
Skyla and Dakota both freeze—wide-eyed, guilty as pups caught in the trash. Dakota’s still half buried in blankets, and Skyla’s got the kind of look that screams I’ve made a terrible mistake.
Alex, of course, doesn’t miss a beat. He sits up straighter, face perfectly serious. “Sky sat in it,” he says smoothly. “And poof—it burst into pieces. Whole thing went down like it owed her money.”
“Is that right?” I stare at Alex for a long second, unamused.
“Yeah,” he says, way too casual for my liking.
I glance at Skyla and have to bite back a laugh. Her sweet face is flushed to the tips of her ears, mouth pressed tight like she’s afraid if she opens it, the truth will spill out. “It shocked me.” Her words are stiff as our bond pulses with a flare of guilt.
I hum at her response, not believing it.
Skyla’s barely over five feet. I’ve held throw pillows that weigh more. There’s no way in hell she broke that chair.
Alex tips his chin up, the look on his face way too innocent to be real. “What?”
“You were fucking in my chair,” I say flatly. “Weren’t you?”
Dakota immediately bursts, “Sorry!”
My eyes snap to Skyla. She blinks, then shrugs—like she’s already decided she’s not taking the fall alone. “It was Alex’s fault.”
Alex reels back, clutching at his chest. “My fault?” he gasps, laughing even as his mouth drops open in mock offense. “Unbelievable. I’m the victim here.”
“Sure you are,” I mutter, finally letting the smile break through. ”Can you at least haul what’s left out to the corner before someone trips on it.”
Alex gives a lazy salute, still grinning. “Aye, boss.”
“I’ll help,” Dakota says, already standing. His smile is soft when he turns toward me. “Sorry.” He grimaces, then rises up on his toes, pressing a kiss to my lips before heading for the door. The warmth of it lingers, steady and easy, like everything he does.
When they’re gone, Skyla unfolds herself from her nest. Her little feet make no sound on the floor as she closes the space between us. Then her arms slip around my waist, warm and sweet.
I exhale, sinking into her arms. The tension in my shoulders melts the moment I inhale the scent of her—lush peonies and musk. It threads through me, calm and soft, the edges of the day dulling under it.
She tilts her head back, chin resting against my chest, eyes wide and sincere. “I’m sorry about your chair,” she says quietly.
I glance down at her, fighting a smile. “You’re forgiven,” I murmur, brushing a thumb along her jaw.
Her eyes soften, and the faintest frown tugs at her mouth. “I’m also sorry you had a rough day,” she murmurs.
That makes me blink. “Rough day?” I echo, brow furrowing. “My day was fine.”
She looks up at me with those soft brown eyes like she doesn’t quite believe me. “You know we share a bond,” she says softly, her voice all warmth and worry. “I can feel you even when you’re at work.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “I didn’t think it was stressful at all. Maybe a little tedious, but for the most part it was easy.”
Skyla frowns, studying me with that careful, searching look that makes my chest ache. Her fingers trace the hem of my shirt, like she’s trying to smooth the day off me one soft touch at a time.
I catch her hand, bringing it to my lips for a second. “You don’t have to worry about me,” I whisper against her knuckles. “I’m good, Sky. Really.”
Her shoulders relax a little, but not completely. “You always say that.”
I glance down at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah,” I admit quietly. “Because it’s true.”
Her bond hums soft and warm against mine—skeptical, but comforted—and I let it wash over me, grounding us both.
I pull my omega in closer, one hand sliding slowly down the full length of her spine. I feel each soft curve under my palm until it settles at the small of her back. Sky melts into me, her face pressing against my chest, her arms looped tight around my waist.
For a moment, I hold her there. My other hand rises to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading into her soft curls, keeping her close as I breathe her in.
The front door clicks open somewhere down the hall. Heavy footsteps, then the soft thud of boots being toed off. Skyla’s head snaps up, her entire face lighting up like someone flipped a switch inside her. That quiet, lingering worry vanishes in an instant.
Before I can blink, she wraps her arms around my neck, rising onto her toes. Her lips brush mine in a soft kiss that leaves the faintest hum of sweetness in our bond.
Then she pulls back, eyes bright. “Tadeo’s home!” And she’s gone—bare feet padding fast down the hall.
I stand there for a beat, watching her disappear around the corner, the scent of peonies still clinging to the air.
Then I hear her laugh—light, happy, unguarded—and Tadeo’s deeper voice answering. I feel so much better now that we’re all home.
The phone in my pocket buzzes as I start toward the kitchen. I pull it out and glance at the screen.
Robert.
Skyla’s dad.
My stomach sinks a little before I open the message. Normally, they text Dakota so that Sky and her mom can talk.
Knox. I’d like to talk.
I frown, rubbing the back of my neck. The last thing I want tonight is a tense conversation about boundaries or expectations. All I want is to sit in the kitchen, drink a beer, and watch my pack make dinner together.
Still, I can’t ignore him.
My thumbs move before I can talk myself out of it.
Everything okay? We’re about to start dinner.
The reply comes fast.
It’s not an emergency. Call me tomorrow when you have a minute.
I stare at the screen for a moment longer, that familiar flicker of worry tightening my chest. Then I sigh and slip the phone back into my pocket. Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it tomorrow.
Tadeo’s voice booms from the living room, “What the fuck happened to the recliner?”
Before I can move, Dakota fires back, deadpan: “Alex broke it on purpose.”
“I did not!”
“He did,” Skyla chimes in, her tone all sunshine and sweetness. “I saw it.”
Alex’s shout echoes down the hall. “The absolute betrayal!”
And like magic, the tension from Robert’s text fades, replaced by something far warmer.
Home.