Chapter 31 Jett
JETT
Iwake up before Sharon does, then again, yesterday was a tough day. The wedding was fantastic and she deserves the rest.
The resort suite is still dim. Early morning light trying to sneak through the curtains like it's apologizing for interrupting.
Cassian's already awake on Sharon's other side, his gray eyes doing that thing where he watches her sleep like she's some kind of miracle.
Pine's sprawled in the armchair by the window, staring at the mountains like they owe him money.
Sharon's curled between Cassian and me, her strawberry and honey scent thick enough to swim in even though her heat's settled.
One hand tucked under her cheek. Dark hair everywhere.
She looks peaceful. Not the kind of fake peaceful she tried to pull off when she first showed up in Pine Hollow all wound up and pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn't.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
I grab it carefully, trying not to wake Sharon, and see a text from a number I recognize immediately.
Ben.
Our brother.
I sit up slowly, extracting myself from the bed without disturbing Sharon. Cassian's eyes follow my movement with a question mark in them, but I shake my head. Not yet. Not until I know what the hell this is about.
I walk into the suite's living area and close the bedroom door most of the way. Pine follows me without making a sound because the man moves like a fucking ghost.
We settle on the couch and I open the message.
"Hey. I know I fucked up. I know I don't deserve anything from you guys.
But I'm in a program now. Real one this time.
Seven days in Montana. Day eight. They gave me my phone back yesterday.
I'm trying. I swear to god I'm actually trying this time. Can you tell Sharon? I want to apologize for all I’ve done.”
I read it twice before handing my phone to Pine.
His dark eyes scan the message. His expression doesn't change but I can see him processing.
"Seven days," I say. "That's longer than he's ever made it."
"It's a start," Pine says carefully. Always the measured one. Always thinking three steps ahead.
"I know," I say, running my hand through my hair. "But what if this time is actually different? What if we don't tell Sharon and she finds out later that he was trying and we kept it from her?"
"And what if we tell her and he's lying again?" Pine counters.
We sit there for a minute. Both of us knowing there's no good answer. Either we protect Sharon from potential bullshit and risk her being pissed that we made that choice for her, or we tell her and watch her go through the hope and disappointment cycle again.
"We tell her," I say finally.
Pine nods slowly. "After breakfast. Let's give her one more morning of not thinking about Ben's shit."
"Agreed."
Cassian emerges from the bedroom a few minutes later, already dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. His gray eyes move between Pine and me, reading the situation like he's got some kind of alpha radar.
"What happened?" he asks.
I show him the text. Watch his jaw tighten.
"Fuck," he says. Then, "We're telling her?"
"After breakfast," Pine confirms. "Let her have a few more hours."
"Then we better make it a really good breakfast," Cassian says.
The resort has room service, but we all agree Sharon deserves better than continental breakfast and coffee that's been sitting in a pot since yesterday. Cassian and I head down to the resort's restaurant while Pine stays in the suite in case Sharon wakes up.
The restaurant is busy. Smells like coffee and bacon and money. We order enough food to feed a small country because Sharon's appetite is directly connected to how much energy she burned the day before, and yesterday was a fucking marathon.
Pancakes with fresh berries and real maple syrup because she has opinions about fake syrup that she will share whether you asked or not.
Waffles with whipped cream because apparently pancakes and waffles are different foods that serve different purposes and she will die on that hill.
Scrambled eggs with cheese. Bacon. Sausage.
Fresh fruit. Orange juice. Coffee that actually smells like someone gave a shit when they brewed it.
We carry everything back up in multiple trips. Pine's set up the balcony table facing the mountain view. The morning sun is hitting the peaks just right, turning the snow golden and making the whole thing look like a postcard.
Sharon emerges from the bedroom twenty minutes later wearing one of my t-shirts that hangs down to her thighs and nothing else. Her hair is messy from sleep. Her eyes are still heavy. She looks soft and satisfied and absolutely perfect.
"Is that coffee I smell?" she asks, her voice rough.
"And pancakes and waffles," I say, pulling out a chair for her. "Because apparently you can't choose between them."
"They're different foods," she says, settling into the chair and reaching for the coffee like it's oxygen. "Pancakes are fluffy and light. Waffles are crispy and substantial. It's like comparing apples and oranges."
"It's exactly like that," Pine says, settling next to her. "If apples and oranges were both made of flour and eggs."
Sharon flips him off while taking a long drink of coffee, and fuck if that casual intimacy doesn't make something warm settle in my chest. This is what pack looks like. Comfortable enough to flip each other off. Safe enough to be vulnerable without worrying about it biting you in the ass later.
We eat breakfast while the sun climbs higher. Sharon loads her plate with both pancakes and waffles, proving her point by eating them in a specific order. Pancakes first with butter and syrup. Then waffles with whipped cream. Then back to pancakes. She's got a whole system.
Cassian watches her eat with barely hidden amusement. Pine drinks his coffee and watches the mountains. I try to focus on the food instead of Ben's text sitting on my phone like a bomb.
"So," Sharon says around a mouthful of waffle, "what's the plan? Are we heading home or staying another night? Because I could definitely be convinced to stay if someone wanted to use that hot tub again."
"Home," Cassian says. "I've got a shift tomorrow and you've got wedding planning to do after all the new clients that signed up at Tangle’s wedding.”
Sharon groans dramatically but doesn't argue. She knows he's right. After breakfast, we pack up. Sharon disappears into the bathroom for a shower while the three of us clean up and make sure we're not leaving anything behind.
I'm folding shirts when Cassian moves next to me.
"You're going to tell her in the truck," he says. Not a question.
"Yeah. I don't want to ruin the morning, but she needs to know before we get home. She needs time to process."
"Want me to drive?" Cassian offers.
"Yeah. That would help."
Sharon emerges from the bathroom thirty minutes later looking clean and refreshed. She's wearing jeans and a soft sweater Pine packed for her. Her hair's still damp, pulled back in a simple ponytail. Minimal makeup.
"Ready?" she asks, grabbing her bag.
“Sure.”
The drive down the mountain starts quiet. Sharon's in the passenger seat next to Cassian, watching the scenery pass. Pine's in the back seat next to me. The radio's playing something instrumental that doesn't demand attention.
We're about twenty minutes in when I pull out my phone.
"Sharon," I say carefully. "I need to show you something."
She turns to look at me, and I can see the moment she registers my tone. The moment she understands this is serious.
"What's wrong?" she asks.
I hand her my phone with Ben's message pulled up.
I watch her face as she reads it. Watch the way her expression shifts from confusion to understanding to something complicated I can't quite name. Hope mixed with caution mixed with old hurt.
"He texted you," she says finally, her voice flat. "About himself. To tell me."
"Yeah," I say.
"Seven days," she says, reading the message again. "That's the longest he's ever made it."
"It is," Pine confirms. "That's progress."
She hands my phone back and turns forward again. "What do you think I should do?"
Fuck. I hate this question because there's no right answer.
"I think," I say carefully, "that you should do whatever feels right to you. If you want to respond, respond. If you don't, don't. But whatever you choose, we're here."
"What would you do?" Sharon asks.
"And honestly? I don't fucking know. Part of me wants to believe him."
"That's exactly how I feel," Sharon says quietly.
"You don't owe him anything," Cassian says, his hands steady on the wheel.
"But what if this time is actually different?" Sharon asks.
"Then he'll do it without you there," Pine says. "Sharon, you are not responsible for his recovery. You can choose to be supportive if you want, but you don't have to."
Sharon's quiet for a long moment.
"I want to text him back," she says finally.
She takes my phone and types out a response. I watch her thumbs move across the screen, typing and deleting and typing again.
"I'm glad you're trying. Seven days is progress. Keep going. I'm rooting for you."
She shows me before sending it.
"That's perfect," I say.
She hits send and immediately puts my phone face down on the center console.
"He might text back," I warn her.
"I know."
“Okay.”
We drive in silence for another ten minutes before my phone buzzes. Sharon's eyes go to it but she doesn't pick it up.
"Do you want me to read it?" I ask.
"Yes. No. Yes. Fuck, I don't know."
I pick up the phone and read Ben's response.
"Thank you. That means everything. There's a family day here on day twenty-one. This Thursday. I know it's last minute but I'd really like you guys to be here if you can. No pressure though."
I read it out loud.
Sharon's hands grip her knees. Her knuckles go white.
“Two weeks from now,” she says.
"It is," Pine confirms.
"Do you want to go?" Cassian asks.
"I don't know if I'm strong enough to watch him fail again," Sharon says.