Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Jared
The morning mist creeps across the harbor water, coiling around the pilings of Pinecrest dock. I breathe in the salt-thick air and let out a long sigh.
My hands wrap around the travel mug Emily filled for me before I left, her kiss goodbye warming me more than the coffee ever could.
Early morning has always been my time. Even as a kid, I’d slip out of bed before dawn to watch the fishermen prep their boats, learning knots and tides before I could tie my shoes.
Now, standing on the weathered planks that creak beneath my boots, I savor the quiet before Pinecrest fully wakes.
Emily never sleeps in. In the months since I moved in, I’ve made it my mission to beat her to the kitchen, sliding pancake batter onto the griddle while she’s still stretching awake.
Not even on vacation does she sleep in, instead insisting on getting up with me to eat breakfast and see me off at the door.
I take a sip from my travel mug, the coffee strong enough to make my eyes water. Emily doesn’t believe in weak coffee any more than she believes in cutting corners on a job site. It’s one of the thousand things I love about her. Her stubborn insistence on doing things right or not at all.
The night of the party plays in my mind on repeat. Her warmth in my arms, the way her body responded to mine, and then the words that slipped out afterward. Not quite a proposal, but close.
I hadn’t planned to bring it up that way. I’d rehearsed a dozen ways to approach the subject, none of them involving being locked together in the most intimate way possible. But seeing her there, trusting me with her body and her vulnerability, the words tumbled out before I could stop them.
The memory of her stillness afterward forms a ball in my stomach. It wasn’t a rejection, at least. I know Emily well enough now to recognize when she’s processing rather than refusing. But her caution, and the careful way she thanked me for not pushing, revealed just how deep Auren’s damage runs.
My fingers tighten around the mug, and I force them to relax before I dent the metal. Thinking about Auren always sends protective rage coursing through my veins with nowhere productive to go.
He took a woman whose instinct is to nurture, to protect, to build, and twisted those qualities against her.
Made her believe that loving deeply was a weakness to exploit rather than a strength to treasure.
Convinced her that her Alpha nature meant she had to be an island, strong and untouchable, when in reality, the best Alphas find their power magnified through connection, not isolation.
The distant purr of an outboard motor draws my attention to the water. The morning mist parts as the water taxi cuts through it, still too far away to make out details but moving at a clip toward the dock.
I check the time on my phone. Right on schedule for the first crossing of the day from Misty Pines.
I roll my shoulders, loosening the tension that always knots between my shoulder blades whenever I think about Auren.
I want to build something real with Emily that honors her strength rather than trying to contain it.
A partnership where we both grow stronger because we’re together, not despite it.
And she wants that, too. I feel it in the way she relaxes into my touch when we’re alone, in how she’s started asking for what she needs instead of assuming she has to handle everything herself. The walls are coming down brick by brick.
If I need to be patient while she dismantles them at her own pace, then patience is what I’ll give her.
The sound of tires on gravel pulls my attention to the parking lot behind me, where a sensible sedan pulls into a space near the Misty Pines dock.
I squint against the morning glare reflecting off the windshield until the driver’s door opens and Leif steps out, his broad frame unfolding from the car.
He doesn’t spot me at first as he squints out toward the water. The morning light catches in his mauve-colored hair as he straightens, highlighting the subtle purple undertones that identify him as an Omega.
The sight of him sends my thoughts to last weekend’s party and his abrupt departure when Carson arrived. Emily’s worry has become mine as he locks his car, then double-checks the handle with the habitual motions of someone who’s learned to be cautious.
Is it my place to ask? To check if he’s okay? I barely know the man beyond casual interactions on the island and at community events. Yet his reaction to Carson, the way he paled and left the party, struck a chord with me.
I recognize fear when I see it. Not the momentary startle of surprise, but the deep, visceral response to a genuine threat.
The water taxi’s engine grows louder as it approaches the dock, drawing Leif’s attention in my direction. Our eyes meet across the distance, and he offers a wave of acknowledgment as he starts toward the dock, his long stride eating up the ground.
Behind him, the morning sun burns through the last wisps of harbor mist, turning the water to hammered silver. I finish my coffee as I wait, considering how to approach him without backing him into a corner.
Emily would know what to say. She’s got an instinct for handling people with the right mixture of directness and grace.
Then again, perhaps the straightforward approach is best. Not pushing, just opening a door the way I did with Emily. It’s up to him if he wants more.
The thought steadies me as Leif draws closer, and I decide to follow my instincts. Sometimes the best support isn’t finding the perfect words but simply letting someone know they’re not alone.
“Morning. How’s hotel life treating you?” I call out to Leif as he approaches, keeping things casual.
No need to spook him with my concern when he’s already carrying enough tension in those broad shoulders to snap a lesser man in half.
Surprise flickers in Leif’s periwinkle eyes. “I don’t have to clean, and there’s always a continental breakfast in the morning to get out the door faster.” He hesitates, scuffing his shoe in the gravel. “Though I’ll admit I’m looking forward to having my own space again.”
“I bet. Hotels make everything feel temporary,” I say, remembering my own hotel stay before I moved in with Emily. I lean on the dock railing, giving Leif space while still inviting conversation. “Are you excited for island life?”
“It will take some getting adjusted to, but yes.” A hint of genuine anticipation lifts his voice. “The Wright Pack has been incredibly generous with their accommodations.”
“They’re good people.”
“They are.” Leif’s focus shifts to the water, where the taxi grows larger as it approaches. “I hope Quinn’s excited about starting school today.”
“It’s a big milestone.” I study his profile.
The mention of school brings a subtle tightening around his eyes that most people would miss.
But I’ve spent my life compensating for not being able to smell emotions based on pheromones as other Alphas can and learned to read the physical signs instead. “You’ve prepared her well.”
Leif’s hands slide into his pockets. “I hope so. The transition from homeschooling to a classroom environment can be challenging, even for a child without anxiety.”
If I could scent pheromones, I imagine Leif’s would be sharp with anxiety of his own right now. Instead, I note how he leans away from me in a subtle defensive posture he probably doesn’t realize he’s doing.
Whatever’s bothering him about Quinn starting school, it goes deeper than normal first-day jitters.
I think of Carson Whitaker’s calculated smile at the party, how Leif disappeared the moment the man arrived, and the dots connect themselves, but I don’t push. Emily would tell me to wait, to let Leif share in his own time rather than forcing a conversation he’s not ready to have.
“Well, she’s got you in her corner,” I say instead. “That’s a pretty good advantage.”
Leif turns to study me, and his posture relaxes. “Thank you.”
The water taxi’s engine grows louder as Kyle guides it into the dock with practiced ease. I move toward the mooring posts, stepping into the familiar rhythm of docking procedures I’ve performed hundreds of times.
“Need help?” Leif offers, taking a step forward.
“I’ve got it,” I assure him, catching the first rope Kyle tosses over. My hands move on autopilot, securing the bow line with a quick series of loops and a final tug to test the tension.
Kyle brings the stern around, cutting the engine as the boat glides the final few feet into position. The taxi rocks against the rubber bumpers as I secure the second line, the knot forming between my fingers without conscious thought.
“Perfect timing, Leif,” Kyle calls out, his scally cap pulled low to block the strengthening morning sun. “Got your precious cargo ready for delivery.”
On the deck, Quinn bounces on her toes, a bright orange life jacket swamping her small frame while one hand clutches Sprinkles’s leash and the other waves.
The massive Newfoundland sits beside her, his service vest gleaming with a newly polished tag. Blake stands behind them, his hand resting on Quinn’s shoulder to keep her from bouncing right off the boat.
“Mr. Jared!” Quinn calls, her shout carrying across the water. “Guess what? I saw a seal this morning! It waved at me!”
I grin back at her. “That’s awesome. Did Sprinkles see it, too?”
“No, he was too busy watching for birds.” She rolls her eyes with the exaggerated disappointment only a child can manage. “Uncle Blake saw it, though, right, Uncle Blake?”
“Sure did, princess.” The wind from the crossing had tugged free strands of long hair from his bun, and they catch in his bushy beard. “Biggest seal I’ve ever seen.”
I secure the gangplank between the dock and the boat, locking it into position.
“All set,” I announce, stepping back to allow their disembarkation.
Leif moves forward, extending a hand toward Quinn. “Ready for our big adventure, Miss Quinn?”
Quinn beams up at him, though her smile wobbles a little. “Do you think the school will have a playground? With swings?” She fidgets with the hem of the shirt that peeks out beneath the life vest as Leif helps her navigate the gangplank, his large hand steady around her much smaller one.
“Most schools do,” Leif says, gentle but encouraging. “And you’ll meet lots of other kids to play with.”
She straightens her shoulders. “I got this.”
Blake ruffles her hair. “That’s right, you do.”
Sprinkles follows, and for such a massive dog, he shows remarkable grace, his paws finding the center of the ramp with each step.
Once on the solid dock, he presses against Quinn’s side, as if sensing her nervous energy.
“Thanks for the lift,” Blake says to Kyle as he steps onto the dock. He rolls his shoulders, working out the stiffness from the boat ride. “Think you’ll be okay doing this on your own tomorrow, princess?”
She nods solemnly. “You’ll drop me off with Kyle at the home dock, he’ll bring me to the dock here, and Mr. Leif will pick me up here to take me to school. And we do the opposite when going home.”
“That’s my girl.” Blake tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you ready for your first day at Pinecrest Academy?”
Quinn’s face flickers between excitement and uncertainty. “I think so. Mr. Leif helped me pack my backpack with everything on the list. And I have my brave shirt on.”
“And Sprinkles will be with you the whole time,” Blake adds, scratching the dog behind his ears.
Quinn’s fingers twist in Sprinkles’s fur, drawing obvious comfort from the contact. “What if the other kids don’t like him?”
“Impossible,” Blake declares with absolute certainty. “Sprinkles is the most likable dog in the universe. Scientific fact.”
This draws a giggle from Quinn, the sound bright. Leif’s expression softens at the exchange, but it doesn’t quite mask the worry in his eyes.
“We should get going if we want to get there early and settle in.” He helps her take off the life vest, revealing a star-speckled shirt beneath, then offers his hand again, which Quinn takes without hesitation.
I reach out to take it from him, and he gives me a nod of thanks.
“Bye, Uncle Blake!” She waves as they head for the parking lot. “Bye, Kyle! Bye, Mr. Jared!”
Blake watches them go with a mixture of pride and wistfulness. “She’s growing up so fast.”
Kyle claps a hand on Blake’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine. She’s got a good support system.” He tips his chin toward Leif. “That one’s solid as they come.”
I move to help Kyle prepare for the return journey, coiling excess rope into neat loops. “How’s everyone settling back into the Homestead?”
“Dominic bought way too much furniture,” Kyle says. “Not to mention what Blake has been building from scratch. They’re going to have to build a second Homestead just to fit it all.”
Blake scratches his beard. “Some can go into the staff cabins.”
“Has Grady decided whether he’s going to move there or keep staying with you?”
Kyle shrugs. “Seems content to stay for now, and it’s nice to have someone to chat with in the evenings.”
Blake tears his eyes away from Quinn and Leif, who have made it to the parking lot. “What’s Emily got planned for her vacation? Will she actually relax, or is she taking on a side job this week?”
I laugh, the sound carrying across the water. “She’s got a whole list of Christmas donations she plans to knock out. But she loves that stuff, so for her, it is relaxing.”
“That sounds about right,” Blake says with a chuckle. “Make sure she takes at least one day to just sit and watch a movie or something.”
“I’ll do my best, but you know Emily.” I help Kyle unhook the gangplank, folding it back into its storage position. “Stillness isn’t in her vocabulary.”
As Kyle prepares to cast off, my eyes drift to where Leif is helping Quinn and Sprinkles into his car, securing the dog’s harness to the special attachment in the backseat.
A pang of concern tightens my chest.
I hope their first day goes smoothly.
I hope our worries about Carson prove unfounded.
I hope Quinn finds friends who appreciate her enthusiastic curiosity and don’t mind her service dog.
But my gut tells me we might not be so lucky. And in my experience, that feeling rarely steers me wrong.