Chapter 18 #2
She was quiet for a moment, and I watched emotions flicker across her face too quickly to catalog.
Then she said, “I want that too. The mattering without performing thing. Vincent made me feel like I was only valuable when I was being what he needed. Impressive or quiet or professionally successful or personally diminished, depending on what served him.” She took a breath.
“And I’m tired of performing. I want to be messy and complicated and still be wanted. ”
“You are wanted. Exactly as you are.”
“Even when I’m demanding and stubborn and insist on doing things the hard way?”
“Especially then.” I meant it too. The parts of Talia that would probably drive other people crazy were the parts I found most compelling. “Your refusal to be rescued is one of my favorite things about you.”
“That’s a weird favorite thing.”
“I’m a weird person. You should probably know that now before you commit to anything permanent.”
She laughed, and the sound filled our corner of the restaurant with warmth.
We finished dinner talking about easier things.
The bistro’s design plans. My consulting work.
Funny stories from Jace’s ranger shifts that he’d shared in the group chat.
Hollis’s latest bookstore drama involving a customer who’d tried to return a book they’d clearly read and then damaged.
By the time dessert arrived, I’d relaxed enough to stop analyzing every word before speaking. This was just conversation with someone I enjoyed. Someone whose company made me feel less isolated than I’d been in years.
“I should tell you something,” I said over the tiramisu we were sharing. “About my family situation.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to. If we’re doing this, you should know what you’re getting involved with.”
She set down her fork and gave me complete attention. The kind of focus that made me understand why she’d been successful in professional kitchens. When Talia paid attention, you felt it.
“My father is still trying to get me to sign an NDA about the development project,” I said. “The settlement offers keep increasing. Last one was for two million dollars and reinstatement in the family business if I agree never to discuss what happened publicly.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“It’s a fraction of what I would have inherited eventually.
But it’s also more than most people see in a lifetime.
” I traced patterns on the tablecloth. “The smart play would be to take it. Use the money to establish my consulting business properly, secure my financial future. I don’t need to fight them anymore.
The development is dead. Hollow Haven is safe. ”
“But you’re not taking it.”
“No. Because taking their money means accepting that what they did was okay. That profit justifies any amount of environmental damage as long as you don’t get caught.” I met her eyes. “And I can’t do that. Even if it means staying broke and isolated and cut off from everyone I grew up with.”
“You’re not isolated anymore.”
The simple statement hit me hard. “No. I suppose I’m not.”
“And for what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right choice. Some things can’t be bought back once you sell them.”
We finished dessert and I paid the bill, waving off her attempt to split it. “This is a date. I’m allowed to pay for dinner on a first date.”
“Traditional Cassian Black.”
“Strategic Cassian Black. If I pay for dinner, it clearly establishes romantic intent rather than friendly collaboration.”
“I think the romantic intent was pretty clear when you made four restaurant reservations.”
Fair point.
We walked out into the cool October evening, and I opened her car door but didn’t immediately close it. We stood there in the parking lot, close enough that I could feel her warmth in the cooling air.
“Thank you for tonight,” she said softly. “For the research and the restaurant and the honesty.”
“Thank you for saying yes. And for not judging me for being fundamentally weird about everything.”
“I like that you’re weird about everything. It makes me feel less weird when I’m being weird about my own things.” She moved closer as she spoke, her voice lowering to a whisper.
We were very close now. Close enough that I could see gold flecks in her hazel eyes under the parking lot lights. Close enough to count freckles across her nose. Close enough that leaning forward just a few inches would close the distance entirely.
“Talia.” Her name came out rougher than I’d intended. “Can I kiss you?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask that all evening.”
I cupped her face with both hands, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones. Gave her every opportunity to change her mind. Then I kissed her, finally, after weeks of wanting and restraint and careful distance.
She tasted like tiramisu and espresso and something uniquely her. Her hands came up to grip my shirt, pulling me closer. The kiss deepened, becoming less tentative and more certain. This was right. This was what I’d been waiting for without knowing how much I needed it.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. Her pupils were dilated, her scent spiked with arousal that made my alpha instincts surge with possession and want.
“That was worth waiting for,” she said, slightly breathless.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the first time you refused to let me carry that heavy box you were struggling with.”
“That’s a weird moment to develop attraction.”
“I told you I was weird about everything.”
She laughed and pulled me down for another kiss, this one shorter but no less intense. When we separated again, I had to consciously stop myself from suggesting we skip the drive home and find somewhere more private right now.
“We should probably head back,” I said, even though it was the last thing I wanted. “It’s getting late and you have an early meeting with the health department tomorrow.”
“How do you remember my schedule better than I do?”
“I pay attention to things that matter to me.”
The drive back to Hollow Haven was quieter than the drive out, but comfortable. Her hand found mine on the center console and stayed there. We didn’t need to fill the silence with conversation.
When I pulled up to her cottage, I came around to open her door and walked her to the porch. Standard date protocol, except nothing about this felt standard.
“I had a really good time tonight,” she said, fishing for the keys from her purse. “We should do it again.”
“Are you free next Sunday? There’s a concert in Millbrook, classical guitar. I thought you might enjoy it.”
“Already planning the second date?”
“I told you I make lists for everything.”
“That sounds perfect.” She unlocked her door, then turned back to me. “Cassian? What you said at dinner, about wanting to matter to someone just for being yourself. You do. You matter to me. Not for what you can provide or how useful you are. Just for being you.”
The tightness in my chest made speaking difficult. “That means more than you know.”
“I know exactly how much it means. Because you make me feel the same way.”
She rose on her toes and kissed me one more time, soft and sweet and full of promise. Then she slipped inside before I could pull her back and suggest complications we probably weren’t ready for.
I drove home to the house on Ridge Road, my mind full of the evening. The conversation and the kiss and the way she’d defended me without hesitation. The realization that I’d found something worth more than family approval or financial security.
Inside, I poured myself a whiskey and settled on the couch, pulling out my phone to find three texts in the group chat I had with Jace and Hollis.
From Jace: How was the date? She get back okay?
From Hollis: I assume it went well since neither of you have texted disaster updates.
I smiled and typed back: Date was perfect. She said yes to next Sunday, so clearly my methodology is sound.
Jace responded immediately: What methodology? You mean the four restaurant reservations?
I laughed as I typed back: How did you know about that?
Hollis: She may have mentioned it. With considerable amusement.
Jace: FOUR reservations. That’s so on brand for you it hurts.
This was so unfamiliar to me and yet it felt so natural. Strategic planning is important for first dates.
Hollis: It’s also endearing. She thought it was sweet.
Jace: Nerd. But congrats. Glad it went well.
Hollis: Agreed. Thank you for taking care of her tonight.
The casual acceptance in those messages hit me harder than it should have. This was what pack meant. Not just romantic relationships with Talia, but genuine care and coordination with Jace and Hollis. Three people who could be happy about my success without feeling threatened by it.
I typed back: Thank you both for being okay with this. I know it’s complicated.
Jace: Stop overthinking. We’re good. Get some sleep.
Hollis: What Jace said. Though more eloquently, I’m genuinely pleased for both of you. Sleep well.
I set my phone down and stared at my living room, at the house I’d bought with money I’d saved before my father cut me off. It had been empty when I arrived three months ago. Just furniture and books and the equipment I needed to work.
Now it held the beginning of something else. Connections I hadn’t planned for. People who cared about my wellbeing without expecting anything in return. The possibility of building something permanent in the place I’d saved but never expected to call home.
I’d made the right choice tonight, at the restaurant when Talia asked what I wanted. Being honest instead of strategic. Admitting fear instead of projecting confidence. Kissing her because I wanted to, not because it fit some calculated relationship timeline.
Maybe that was what pack formation required. Not perfect strategy or optimal planning, but the courage to be honest about what you needed and trust that the right people would meet you there.
I finished my whiskey and headed to bed, already mentally planning next Sunday’s concert. Where to get tickets, what time to pick her up, whether she’d want dinner before or after the performance.
Then I stopped myself and smiled. Maybe some things didn’t need extensive planning. Maybe some things could just unfold naturally, guided by genuine feeling instead of strategic analysis.
But I’d still get the tickets early. Some habits were too ingrained to break completely.
I fell asleep thinking about vanilla and honey and hazel eyes that saw straight through every defense I’d carefully constructed. Thinking about how Talia Quinn had taken my over-planned, over-analyzed approach to dating and somehow made it feel like exactly the right amount of effort.
Thinking that I was completely gone for her, and for once in my life, that felt less like a strategic weakness and more like the smartest choice I’d ever made.