Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Emily
“Need a refill?” Jared asks, holding out a fresh bottle of sparkling water.
“Thanks,” I murmur as I take it from him.
Around us, the Homestead hums with life, overlapping voices bouncing off the exposed wooden beams, Nathaniel’s deep rumble mingling with Blake’s booming laughs.
The scent of Holden’s cooking drifts from the kitchen, where the door has been propped open, filling the air with garlic and rosemary, and my stomach grumbles in response. This isn’t the first gathering I’ve attended here, but today, the atmosphere is different.
The Homestead had been closed to the public for the evening.
Tonight wasn’t for resort guests or tourists.
It was for Leif. For the Wrights, folding him into their pack after everything Carson had put him through.
A glitter-heavy sign hangs by the door, spilling purple sparkles onto the floor that will be impossible to clean up.
Across the room, Quinn sits cross-legged by the fireplace, Sprinkles sitting attentively at her side, the Newfoundland’s focus on the plate balanced on her knees as she animatedly tells the enormous dog about her day.
Her uncle Blake lounges nearby, one leg stretched out, close enough that Quinn can tip sideways into him when she gets tired of sitting up straight.
“Kyle?” Jared asks, holding out the second bottle of beer to his cousin.
“Don’t mind if I do.” The Beta switches his still half-full bottle to his other hand to accept the fresh drink, his attention still on the water visible through the tall window in the dining room. “See that sailboat?”
Jared’s hand comes to rest on my waist as he leans forward to look. The boat is barely visible, a white speck on the darkening water. “It’s too early in the year for sailing.”
“Amateurs,” Kyle says, taking a sip of beer from each bottle. “And now they’re stuck with engine trouble. They haven’t moved since this morning.”
“If you know they’re in trouble, why not go out to help?” I ask.
“Nope.” He lifts his two beers. “No boating today.”
Jared squeezes my waist in reassurance. “I’ll take the skiff out after the announcement and help if I can.”
I lean up to nuzzle his cheek. “So responsible.”
His hand slides down to palm my hip. “How else am I supposed to impress my Alpha with my boating skills?”
“Oh, we’ve got movement,” Kyle announces, breaking the moment. “Shoot. Guess they figured out the issue.”
My lips brush Jared’s ear. “You’ll just have to find another way to impress me.”
A pleased rumble rises from him before he kisses my temple. “I should go make sure Grady doesn’t need rescuing. When I passed them on the way to you, Dominic had him pinned down to discuss contract language.”
Kyle shakes his head. “The man’s got the patience of a saint.”
From his spot on the couch, Grady lifts his head at the sound of his name. He raises his glass in our direction.
I raise my bottle of sparkling water in return. He’s been quiet today, more withdrawn than usual, though he’s made an effort with each person who’s approached him. When Dominic sat down beside him earlier, Grady set his cane aside and straightened his shoulders to give the Alpha his full attention.
As Jared heads toward them, Holden appears in the doorway, a dish towel thrown over one shoulder.
“Ten minutes until food,” he announces, and a cheer goes up from the room. “And I made those lemon bars you all pretend you don’t like.”
“That’s because I actually don’t,” Blake calls from the couch, a grin splitting his bushy beard.
“You ate six last time,” Quinn reminds him, and everyone laughs.
I leave Kyle to his window, watching, and move along the perimeter of the room.
Nathaniel catches my eye as I pass. “Glad you made it, Em.”
“I wouldn’t have dreamed of missing it,” I reassure him and watch as Jared gets pulled into the conversation he planned to save Grady from. “Or should I say, I wouldn’t dream of missing a meal cooked by Holden?”
“Truer words have never been spoken.”
Blake squeezes Quinn’s shoulder as he unfolds himself from the couch. “Holden needs a taster. You up for it?”
She scrambles to her feet with the enthusiasm only a seven-year-old can muster. “Do you think he baked brownies, too?”
“When does he not bake brownies, too?” Blake says and lets her take his hand as they disappear into the kitchen.
Chloe sinks into his abandoned spot with a groan, one hand on her round belly, before she prods Dominic. “If you want to talk work, find someone else. Leave my bestie alone.”
A look of contentment steals over Nathaniel’s features. “I have been summoned.”
“Because you know so much about contracts?” I say dryly.
“I just need to distract my bondmate.” With a wink, he saunters off.
A hint of fresh linen and sun-warmed cedar reaches me a moment before the fine hairs on my arms rise with awareness, and my pulse trips.
I turn to find Leif standing at that same unhurried distance he’s been keeping since we decided to take a break.
His broad frame is relaxed in a simple navy button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle.
His face is calm, the familiar lines around his mouth neither deepened with worry nor lifted with expectation.
His hands slide into his pockets. “Wasn’t sure you’d come.”
He speaks with an easy familiarity, as if weeks of careful distance haven’t passed between us. As if we haven’t been trading brief acknowledgments across the docks and words in passing, while both of us wait for the other to give way.
I let out a breath that borders on a laugh. “It’s not hard to catch the water taxi on a Saturday.”
His head turns toward Kyle, who has finished his first beer and is well into his second. “Might be hard to catch it on the way back.”
I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve bunked down at the Homestead.”
The inches between us might as well be miles. I could reach out and touch his shoulder, the same way I’ve done a hundred times before, but my arms stay at my side.
Leif’s gaze searches mine for a long moment before he takes a slow step forward, as if he’s worried I’ll spook and run. “I miss you.”
The words come soft enough to get lost in the crowded room while my stomach swoops.
Not because I doubted it.
Because I’ve missed him, too.
The admission settles between us with all the dangerous familiarity of muscle memory. Nights on my couch with his feet tangled with mine. Early mornings at the docks with coffee steaming between our hands. Tangled sheets and the mix of pheromones.
And then Carson happened.
The broken promises.
The feeling of not mattering.
The realization that Leif was hurting, and he didn’t trust us enough to ask for help. Logic tells me it was trauma, years of conditioning that showed him no one would listen, but even knowing the reason for the secrets doesn’t stop how they made me feel small and unworthy.
My grip tightens around my bottle. “Leif—”
“I know.” He remains calm, but tension pulls at his edges now. “I know I hurt you.”
The room keeps moving around us. Quinn shrieks with laughter from the kitchen. Holden shouts about people staying out of the desserts. Blake immediately shouts back.
But all of it fades beside the Omega standing in front of me.
Leif takes a slow breath. “I should’ve told you before I made the decision to join the Wright Pack.”
My heart stutters. “It’s not as if I had a real pack to offer as an alternative.”
Not anymore. Not since Auren stole mine.
“That doesn’t excuse anything. I knew your intentions, but I kept telling myself I needed to handle Carson before it became your problem.” His jaw flexes once. “And by the time I realized how bad things were, I’d already broken things between us.”
I stare at him, my heart hurting. Leif has never lied to me about who he is. Protective. Steady. Willing to shoulder more than he should if it means keeping the people he loves safe.
But loving someone isn’t the same thing as trusting them.
And trust is harder to rebuild once it cracks.
“But joining the Wright Pack doesn’t mean…” His periwinkle eyes plead with me. “It’s protection, Em. I don’t want to keep being alone out here, and I love Quinn. I needed the stability after what happened with Carson.”
“The Wrights are good people,” I admit softly. “And there’s strength in numbers. But I can’t say it didn’t sting, even after everything.”
“I know.” His head bows, his mauve hair falling over his forehead. “But they’re packmates, not bondmates. I still want that. With you.”
The hurt rises again, but underneath it comes a warm, stubborn pulse behind my ribs, because even now, standing this close to him comes too easily. My body remembers the broad warmth of his body pressed to mine. The way he touched me.
As if I belonged there.
Leif’s gaze drops to my mouth before lifting again. “I still want you. Belonging to the Wright Pack doesn’t change how I feel.”
Heat flashes through me so suddenly that it leaves me flushed with embarrassment.
The distance between us suddenly becomes unbearable in a way that has nothing to do with anger.
“I don’t know what we’re doing,” I whisper.
“Neither do I.” A fragile flicker of hope lights beneath his composure, careful enough that it almost hurts to witness it. “But I know I’m not done fighting to be with you.”
I swallow hard, uncertainty warring with hope of my own. Because that’s the problem, isn’t it?
I’m not done, either.
“Dinner’s ready!” Blake calls as he comes out of the kitchen carrying a platter.
Quinn trots at his side, a basket of bread held above her head. “Take your seats, everyone!”
Leif’s fingers brush the back of my hand, sending a sizzle of heat up my arm. “Jared’s looking for you. Thank you again for coming.”
Grateful for the out, I take it. “I should go find him.”
As Leif goes, my fingers curl into my palms. The ache isn’t sharp, but it’s a constant, dull throb that’s existed since the day he left, and being in the same room again has only strengthened it.
This is what I gave up. Not just the possibility of him, but the certainty of him.
And standing here now, watching him move through the party with the easy confidence of someone who belongs, I can’t help wondering if I made the right call when I let him go.
I exhale slowly as I turn to find Jared, but it’s Chloe who snags my attention as Dominic helps her up off the sofa, one hand supporting her belly.
My hand moves to my flat stomach, muscular from years of hard labor. I used to dream of having a pup, but Auren always claimed to be too delicate to spend my Ruts with me. He hadn’t wanted to be locked during his Heats, either, and we were never in a financial place to raise a pup.
When I offered to carry the pup, his rejections had turned to how it wouldn’t work, how it couldn’t work, how I was setting myself up for a pregnancy my body wouldn’t give me.
Alphas don’t carry, he’d said, honey-sweet even as the words cut. That’s not how it works. Female Alphas are practically sterile.
Then, when I did the research and found the cases, it had become, Do you know how humiliating it would be for me, your Omega? Is that what you want? To make me the laughingstock?
Piece by piece, he had eaten away at my dreams until wanting to be a mother felt unrealistic. Selfish.
Impossible.
And I’d believed him. I’d internalized it, made it part of my understanding of myself, that certain doors were closed, not because I’d chosen a different path, but because they’d never been options in the first place.
I haven’t spoken to Auren since dropping him off at Safe Harbor House, the Omega house for those who need help, and I didn’t look back. It had taken all my willpower and Jared’s support to not call to check on him, to not reach out to ensure he was okay.
But leaving him behind didn’t get him out of my head.
“You’re thinking too hard,” a voice says beside me, pulling me back to the present. “Your face gets this little line right here.”
Jared touches the space between my eyebrows with one finger, his expression concerned.
I force my features to relax. “Just zoning out. It’s been a long week.”
He studies me for a moment, head tilted. “It‘s not the resort. Tell me what’s wrong. Did Leif—”
“No, not that.” Well, not entirely. “It’s...old stuff creeping back in.”
“Old stuff with...” He tilts his head in the direction Leif went.
I shake my head. “Long before Leif.”
Understanding dawns. “Auren.”
It’s not a question, but I respond. “Yeah.”
He moves a half-step closer and cups my elbows, keeping my attention on him. “You know, it’s okay to want things, even if you thought you’d stopped.”
My breath hitches. “It’s not that simple.”
“It can be,” he says, tugging me forward until my breasts brush his chest. “If you let it.”
Around us, the others are heading toward the large dining table set next to the kitchen, but Jared ignores everyone else to focus on me.
Self-consciously, my eyes drift to Chloe as she waffles past, and yearning fills me.
“We can make one.”
My head whips back to Jared. “What?”
He releases one of my elbows to touch my stomach. “We can make one.”
“It’s not that simple,” I say, the objection brittle with all the dreams I gave up on.
“No, but it’s possible. Let me give you a pup.”
“We don’t even have an official pack,” I protest. “How are we supposed to—”
“It doesn’t matter.” The soft brush of his lips cut me off. “Let me give you a pup, Em.”
“Hey, lovebirds, get over here before we eat all the lasagna without you!” Blake hollers.
Jared sighs and steps back. “Just think about it. No pressure. Just... you should know it’s an option I want, too. That’s all.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Because it’s not just an option, it’s a door I thought had closed, and hearing it laid out so simply, with no drama, leaves it impossible to dismiss as fantasy or wishful thinking.
I used to think losing my pack meant losing this future forever. But sitting here now, surrounded by loud conversation and people who care without making me earn it, the possibility becomes real again.
It’s not with the people I thought I’d spend my life with. Not in the life I planned. But with the ones who are here, who see me clearly and choose to stay.
Leif wants another chance.
Jared wants a family.
And across the room, Grady keeps looking over as if he still hasn’t figured out where he belongs in all of this, and I find myself wanting to prove there’s space for him with me.
The terrifying part isn’t losing them.
It’s wanting all of it badly enough to try again.