EPILOGUE #2
“Retiring?” Holly repeats skeptically. “Was this a willing retirement?”
I shrug, though I know exactly how unwilling it was. “The board wasn’t happy about how the children’s cases were handled, but I have no idea about the specifics.”
This is technically true—I don’t know the specifics of the board meeting where they essentially forced Mercer out. I just know the result, which was all that mattered to me.
“The more important piece of information,” I continue, “is that the board voted to post a role for a pediatric emergency physician. Someone who could rotate through all the smaller clinics in the region and provide coverage for the wilderness medic service. They’ve realized that specialty care is needed, especially now that the town is growing in permanent population. ”
Holly’s expression brightens. “That’s good. The children in town need to be prioritized.”
I roll my eyes, unable to help myself. “Obviously the job is yours if you want it.”
“If I want it?” she repeats, blinking at me.
“Well, yes,” I say, suddenly uncertain. “But don’t make a decision right now. You have time to think about it.”
“Okay,” she says slowly, obviously lost in thought.
A sense of unease runs through me. I hope she doesn’t think I’m trying to control her, force her to mold her life just to suit my needs. “We’ll make it work no matter what you decide. I know your mother has been making noise about us moving to New York. You still have your apartment.”
Holly laughs, the sound bright against the dull hum of the airplane engines. “My mother has come around more than you think. Last week she actually asked when we were going to give her grandchildren.”
I nearly choke on my champagne. “She what?”
“Apparently she’s decided that if I’m going to be an omega, I might as well give her grandbabies to spoil,” Holly says with a shrug. “Her words, not mine.”
“And what did you tell her?” I ask carefully, setting my glass down.
Holly’s expression turns thoughtful. “That we hadn’t discussed it yet. That we’re still figuring out our lives together.” She pauses, studying my face. “Why? Is that something you want to discuss?”
The fasten seatbelt sign dings before I can answer, and the captain’s voice fills the cabin, announcing our imminent descent into Anchorage. Holly buckles her seatbelt, still watching me with those perceptive eyes of hers.
“We can talk about it later,” I say, reaching for her hand again. “With Kai and Grayson. It’s a pack decision.”
She nods, squeezing my fingers. “A pack decision,” she agrees.
As the plane begins its descent, I stare out the window at the approaching landscape—the jagged mountains, the sprawling forests, the glittering waters of a bright blue inlet. Somewhere beyond those mountains is Heat Mountain, our little town, our home.
I think about the job offer, about Holly staying for good, about the possibility of children someday. About the life we’re building together, the four of us, against all odds and expectations.
Three years ago, I was running from this place, from connections, from anything that might tie me down or make me vulnerable. Now I’m running toward it all, embracing the very things I once feared.
Beside me, Holly leans her head on my shoulder again, her scent warm and content, tinged with the same anticipation I’m feeling.
“Almost home,” she murmurs.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, my chest tight with an emotion I’m still learning to name. “Almost home,” I agree.
The plane descends through the clouds, and I close my eyes, letting myself feel the pull of the bonds that connect me to my pack, growing stronger with every mile that brings us closer to them.
Almost home.
Grayson
The airport parking lot is a mess of slush and ice, typical for Anchorage in early spring. I navigate through the rows of cars, careful to avoid the deeper puddles that could splash up onto the truck bed. Don’t want Holly and Noah’s luggage sitting in frigid road water.
“They’re not going to disappear if you don’t keep checking your phone,” I tell him, glancing at the device clutched in his hand.
“I know that,” he mutters, but checks it again anyway. “I just want to make sure their flight landed okay.”
“It did. Twenty-two minutes early, just like I said.” I turn into the short-term parking area, scanning for an open spot. “And yes, I already texted Noah to let him know where we’ll meet them.”
Kai huffs out a laugh. “Sometimes I forget how freakishly efficient you are.”
I don’t respond to that, focusing instead on parallel parking between a massive SUV and a compact car that’s taking up more than its fair share of space. Kai winces as I maneuver the truck with precision, coming within inches of the SUV’s bumper.
“Perfect,” I announce, putting the truck in park.
“Show-off,” Kai grumbles, but there’s no heat in it.
We make our way through the parking garage toward the terminal, Kai practically vibrating with excitement beside me. I keep my own anticipation contained, though the alpha in me is just as eager to see our mates after three long months.
The arrivals area is crowded with people waiting for loved ones—families with handmade signs, limo drivers holding tablets with names, tour guides in matching jackets. We find a relatively clear spot near the security exit and settle in to wait.
“Do you think they’ve changed?” Kai asks suddenly, his voice uncharacteristically serious.
I glance at him, noting the slight furrow between his brows. “In three weeks?”
“You can change a lot in three weeks,” he insists. “Remember how much Holly changed in her first few weeks here?”
I consider this, remembering the frightened, secretive woman who arrived in Heat Mountain, desperate to hide her omega nature.
“She didn’t really change, though. Just finally let the real her see the light of day.”
Kai nods, but continues fidgeting, his eyes fixed on the security exit. I resist the urge to put a steadying hand on his shoulder, knowing he needs to work through his nervous energy in his own way.
A fresh wave of travelers emerges from the security checkpoint, and Kai straightens, scanning the crowd. I spot them first—Noah’s height making him visible above the other passengers, Holly’s dark hair gleaming under the fluorescent lights as she walks beside him, their hands linked.
“There,” I say, nodding in their direction.
Kai follows my gaze, and his entire demeanor changes. The anxiety melts away, replaced by pure joy as he raises his arm in an enthusiastic wave.
“Holly! Noah!” he calls, drawing the attention of nearby travelers.
Holly’s face lights up when she spots us, and she tugs on Noah’s hand, pulling him through the crowd toward us. I hang back, letting Kai surge forward to meet them, watching as he sweeps Holly into a spinning hug that lifts her off her feet.
“You’re crushing me,” she laughs, but her arms tighten around his neck, belying her complaint.
Kai sets her down only to pull Noah into an equally enthusiastic embrace, which Noah returns with more restraint but genuine warmth. I approach more slowly, savoring the sight of them together, whole and safe and here.
Holly breaks away from Kai and comes to me, her eyes bright with happiness. “Grayson,” she says, and just my name in her voice is enough to loosen the knot of tension I’ve been carrying for three months.
I open my arms, and she steps into them, her small frame fitting against mine perfectly. I breathe in her scent—clean and familiar like fresh fresh laundry hung in sunlight.
“Missed you,” I murmur against her hair, too quiet for anyone but her to hear.
She pulls back just enough to look up at me, her smile soft and knowing. “I missed you too.”
Noah joins us, clapping a hand on my shoulder in greeting. I release Holly with one arm to pull him into a brief, tight hug.
“Welcome back,” I say simply.
“Good to be back,” he replies, and I can hear the truth in it.
Kai bounces on his toes beside us, practically glowing with excitement. “Come on, we’ve got so much to tell you! The cooperative’s expanded, we’ve got three new bottling lines, and wait until you see what they’ve done to Main Street!”
“Let them breathe, Kai,” I admonish, though I understand his enthusiasm. “They just got off a six-hour flight.”
“Actually,” Noah says, checking his watch, “we should probably get their luggage before it goes around the carousel again.”
We make our way to baggage claim, Kai chattering the entire time about developments in Heat Mountain, Holly asking questions about mutual friends, Noah and I exchanging amused glances over their heads. It feels right, the four of us together again, our pack complete.
After retrieving their luggage—more than they left with, I note with resignation—we head back to the parking garage. Kai insists on taking Holly’s carry-on despite her protests that she can manage it herself.
“So,” Noah says as we load the luggage into the truck bed, “anything interesting happen while we were gone?”
Kai and I exchange a look, and I can see him struggling not to blurt out everything at once. We’d agreed to wait until we were back in Heat Mountain to share our news.
“Nothing that can’t wait until we’re home,” I say, securing the luggage under a tarp.
“Home,” Holly repeats, smiling at the word. “Can’t wait to sleep in my own bed again.”
I resist the urge to tell her that sleep isn’t highest on my list of priorities.
The drive back to Heat Mountain takes nearly three hours, there’s been more traffic on the only highway into town with all the tourists, but it passes quickly with Holly and Noah sharing stories from their medical mission—the challenges they faced, the lives they saved, the lessons they learned.
Kai peppers them with questions, while I focus on the road, content to listen to their voices filling the truck cab.