Chapter 40 Scotty
Scotty
Istood on the sidewalk outside Morgan's house, staring at it like the right angle or enough eye contact might magically calm me the hell down.
It was… adorable. Not in a try-hard, show-home way, just warm and lived in, with a small garden lining the path and flowers adding soft pops of color near the porch, like someone actually cared enough to keep things alive. It suited her.
It also made this whole thing feel way more real than I was ready for.
My attention drifted down the street, toward where my dad's house sat just a few minutes away.
Close enough that it didn't feel like separate places.
Just… one overlapping mess of everything I wasn't handling well.
Him. Morgan. Ryder and Hunter. Me. All of it tangled together so tightly there was no clean edge to grab onto, no way to pull one piece free without the rest coming with it.
No space between any of it. No room to breathe.
The rumble of Ella's engine faded as her car disappeared around the corner, leaving me alone on the quiet street with nothing but the chaos of my own thoughts for company.
My stomach twisted, nerves building the longer I stood there doing absolutely nothing, my hands flexing at my sides like I could physically shake the anxiety out of my system if I tried hard enough.
Was I really about to do this?
Walk up to Morgan's door and tell her I'd step back? That I wouldn't be a problem anymore? That whatever this thing was between me and Ryder and Hunter, I could just… end it.
Like a normal, rational person who hadn't completely lost her mind over two Alphas who made her feel like the center of the fucking universe.
I didn't want to. Every instinct demanded I give up this foolish plan. My body ached to be with them.
But this wasn't just about me.
My steps felt heavy as I forced myself forward, moving up the short path before I could change my mind.
My pulse thudded in my ears by the time I reached the door.
I lifted my hand to knock, but before I had the chance, it flew open, and Morgan was there, pulling me into a hug before I even had time to react.
It caught me completely off guard.
She pulled back just enough to look at me, her hands still on my shoulders like she needed to make sure I was actually here.
Then I got hit with it all over again—those eyes.
Ryder's eyes. Same shade, same intensity, same way of looking at you like they saw right through whatever bullshit you were trying to hide behind.
"Scotty, I've been so worried about you," she said, her tone warm. "Ryder told me you were with your friends and they were taking care of you, but still…"
Well. This was not the icy reception I'd mentally prepared for.
I blinked at her, my rehearsed speech evaporating. I arrived armored for rejection, not this warm welcome that left me defenseless.
She stepped back with a small shake of her head. "Come in, please. You look like you could use a strong cup of coffee, and I just made a fresh pot."
"I don't want to intrude," I said automatically, even as I stepped inside like a complete liar. If I truly didn't want to intrude, I wouldn't be standing in her doorway uninvited in the first place.
"You're not intruding," she replied over her shoulder.
I followed slowly, my eyes dragging over the framed photos lining the wall.
There were pictures of Ryder as a baby, all chubby cheeks and bright eyes, then older—gap-toothed smiles, awkward teenage limbs, and finally something that looked like a graduation photo where he already carried that swagger he had now.
There were photos of him with Hunter too, scattered through the years like they'd always existed side by side, like there's never been a version of one without the other.
A few of Dad and Morgan tucked in between them, smiling like the world's happiest couple.
God, that stung.
My dad had this whole life I wasn't even aware of, and I'd been so wrapped up in Ken's bullshit that I missed it. Missed him falling in love. Missed him building something new while I wasted years trying to hold something together that was broken from the start.
I imagined an alternate reality where Dad smiled at the sight of me with Ryder and Hunter, where our photos might hang on this wall too. A reality where I wasn't just a visitor looking in, but actually belonged here among these captured memories.
Or if things hadn't gotten so complicated—if I hadn't fallen in love with them—would Morgan have included pictures of me as her stepdaughter?
Did I want that?
I wasn't exactly thrilled about Dad dating someone at first. It took me a while to warm up to Morgan, but after our conversation at the arena yesterday—God, was that really only yesterday?—I was really starting to like her.
If everything hadn't gotten so fucking complicated, I think eventually I would have loved to have a close relationship with my future stepmother. Probably not a mother-daughter one because I could never replace my mom, but something... similar.
Instead, I was standing in her kitchen, about to tell her I'd disappear from her life like I existed.
The universe was really outdoing itself with this fuckery.
"Why don't you take a seat?" Morgan gestured toward the small breakfast nook, the window looking out over a neat backyard that felt just as warm and lived-in as the rest of the house.
I did, sliding into the seat and staring out at the freshly cut grass because it was easier than looking at her, easier than dealing with the talk we were about to have.
"Does Dad mow your lawn?" I found myself asking. "He's weirdly obsessed with that ride-on mower he got a few years ago."
Morgan set a steaming mug in front of me, then settled into the chair opposite mine. I wrapped my hands around the mug immediately, soaking up the warmth like I could anchor myself with it.
"Yes, he drives that ridiculous machine over here twice a month," she said, shaking her head. "It was nice having a man look out for me for a change."
I flinched. "Was?" I asked quietly, my eyes dropping to the coffee like it suddenly held all the answers to life, the universe, and why everything felt like it was slowly collapsing in on itself.
She let out a long breath, the softness in her expression shifting into something heavier, something tired.
"Is," she amended, her voice wavering slightly. "I love your father, Scotty, but I am so mad at him right now. He had no right to treat you that way."
"I understand why he's mad," I said, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. "He never wanted me dating anyone on his team, and I get why he wouldn't want me dating my future step—"
"That's utter bullshit," Morgan snapped, and when I glanced up, I saw she meant it. "I get having that stupid rule when you were a teenager and hanging around a bunch of hockey players, but you're an adult now. You are more than capable of making your own decisions about who you date."
I just… stared at her in awe.
"Why aren't you mad at me?" I asked, finally.
"I'm the reason you're having issues with Dad.
The reason your son's career could be in jeopardy.
You should hate me, Morgan." My fingers tightened slightly around the mug.
"I came here to tell you I'm walking away, and you're making it really difficult to actually do that when you're being this… nice about it."
"Walking away?" she repeated, her brows pulling together, confusion flickering across her face. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not going to pursue anything with Ryder and Hunter," I said, the words tasting exactly as bitter as I expected. "And I'm going to find somewhere to stay that isn't in Evercrescent. I don't exactly know when I'll be able to leave, but I'll stay with Ella or Millie until I can figure it out."
"You're serious," she said slowly.
"Uh… yeah?" Because what else was I supposed to say? Just kidding, I came here for emotional torture and a caffeine fix?
"Scotty," she said, softer now. "I understand not wanting to go back to your father's house right now, and even though I'm very sure he regrets what he said—"
"I doubt it," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head lightly.
"-he needs to earn your forgiveness," she continued, as if I hadn't spoken.
"And you are more than welcome to stay here with me.
I have an extra room, and it's yours for as long as you need it.
" She tilted her head slightly, watching me carefully.
"But I don't think that's what you actually want, is it? "
"I can't have what I want," I said, fighting back tears.
"Yes, you can, Honey," Morgan said, grasping my hand from across the table and giving it a gentle squeeze.
"What your father wants does not dictate your life.
He is going to feel however he feels, whether you're with my boys or not.
That is his issue to work through, if he doesn't want to lose you. "
"But—"
"Do you love them?"
"Yes," I said with zero hesitation because I wasn't going to lie to the woman. Morgan deserved honesty, and I couldn't bring myself to deny what I felt for the guys. Not when that feeling had become the most real thing in my life. "With them, I finally understand what it means to be treasured."
"You deserve that and so much more," she murmured. "Anyone who ever made you feel like you didn't deserve everything didn't deserve to have you in their lives."
Gah. Tears sprang to my eyes. "Dad tried, but after Mom…"
How the hell did you condense years of that into one neat, coherent sentence?
Years of him trying so hard, it should have been enough, but still falling just short because he was drowning in his own grief too.
Us circling each other, both hurting, both trying, and still somehow getting it wrong more often than not.
No instruction manual for surviving grief with your relationship intact. No roadmap for remembering how to be a family when the person who held you together was gone.
"Your father loves you, Scotty. I don't doubt that for a second," she said, sounding like she meant it. "But the way he treated you last night…" She exhaled slowly. "He should have been the one ripping Ken apart. I am so disappointed in him."
I bit my bottom lip and shook my head. Then I burst into tears.
Before I could even try to pull myself together, Morgan was there, wrapping her arms around me in a hug that felt like permission to fall apart.
I didn't try to pull myself together or apologize or shrink myself into the smallest possible version of Scotty— the one who never took up too much space or asked for too much comfort.
I just… let go.
I let myself feel every ounce of hurt and pain, let myself grieve for my own mom, who I couldn't turn to anymore when things got tough. For the fucked up place my relationship with Dad was in, and not knowing if we'll ever get past it.
If I even wanted to get past it.
And I cried for them. For my Alphas. For Ryder, whose sharp edges softened just for me. For Hunter, who was all warmth and chaos.
They were everything I never knew I needed, and I ran from them like they were the problem instead of being the one thing that made any of this make sense.
Morgan's subtle scent wrapped around me, soft and floral. My Omega latched onto it without hesitation, the restless, panicked edge of her easing just enough that I could breathe properly again. I clung to Morgan, my fingers curling into her shirt as I let myself have this moment.
She held me and told me that eventually, everything would feel right in the world again.
I wanted to believe her.
I really fucking did.
She said all the things you'd want a mother to say, rocking me softly, and she let me sob my little heart out until her shoulder was soaked with my tears.
Eventually, the tears slowed, my breathing evened out in uneven pulls as I leaned back slightly, scrubbing at my face with the heel of my hand.
"Do you want to be with them?" she asked gently.
I nodded, because what was the point in pretending otherwise at this point? I wouldn't be falling apart like this if I didn't.
"I just… I won't make them choose," I said, my voice rough and wrecked. "I refuse to make them choose between the careers they love and me."
Morgan pulled back just enough to look at me, her hand coming up to wipe at the damp tracks on my cheeks. "I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed, Scotty."
I frowned, about to ask her what she meant, when a sharp knock sounded at the door, cutting straight through the moment.
Morgan sighed softly, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head before stepping away.
"Stay here," she said. "I'll deal with whoever that is."
She disappeared down the hallway toward the front door, and a moment later, I heard the sharp edge in her voice as she spoke to whoever was on the porch. "What are you doing here?"
Fuck. Please don't tell me…
"Morgan," a familiar voice said, rough and strained. "I fucked up."