10. Leo
Leo
The trail opens beneath our boots the way it always does for me, like an old friend stepping out of the trees. Afternoon light slants over the ridge, pale and cold, brushing frost off branches as the pack follows me up the incline.
I can feel Gray behind me, measuring each step the way he always does, and Daniel somewhere to the left, head full of responsibilities. Tess keeps pace with us easily, cheeks flushed from the climb.
I fill my lungs with air that tastes like pine needles and snowmelt.
This is the part of the world where everything in me feels aligned.
The Beta in me settles, humming under my ribs.
I lift a hand and gesture for them to watch the patch of ice ahead.
Tess sidesteps it with a grin, boots crunching over packed snow.
"This place is unreal," she murmurs, eyes bouncing between the view and the footprints we leave behind us.
"Wait until summer," I tell her. "These slopes turn into wildflower fields. We sometimes camp on the far side of the ridge. You wake up, and it looks like the whole world cracked open just to show you color."
"I had no idea you'd hiked these trails before," she says.
"I've had some clients who like exploring Colorado, so I've been here a couple of times."
Gray shoots me a look with half a smirk.
He knows what those trips mean to me. He also knows how often I drag the two of them out here, even when work is hellish or Daniel's slammed with meetings.
I shrug at him, pretending I'm not already imagining bringing Mara here.
Which is ridiculous. And yet my mind keeps drifting there anyway.
Tess steps over a fallen log, running a hand along the bark. "You'd camp out here on purpose?"
"Absolutely. Cold or not. Though right now, we'd freeze our asses off," I say, dodging a low branch. "But when it's warmer, it's perfect."
She laughs softly. "I wouldn't be opposed to trying it. As long as someone tells me what to bring."
"I've got a whole list," I answer. "Half of it is gear. The other half is food. Because nothing ruins a hiking trip like realizing someone forgot the snacks."
Daniel snorts behind us. "That happened once. And it wasn't me."
"It was totally you," Gray fires back.
Tess glances between us like she's watching a tennis match. "Let me guess. You argued for the next three hours."
"We did," I say with a grin. "And then someone offered to share their trail mix, but Daniel was in a mood and refused out of pride."
Daniel mutters something under his breath that sounds like a denial but not a very convincing one.
Tess hides a smile behind her scarf. It warms something in me, seeing her fit into our rhythm this easily.
Not as part of the pack, but as someone who feels good to have around.
Someone who has that same gentleness Mara has, even if the two of them couldn't be more different.
And there she is again. Pushing into my thoughts the way scent does when it hits the back of your throat and refuses to leave.
I clear my head and focus on the trail. "Watch your footing here," I call back. "Snow's thin over the rocks."
They follow without hesitation. I leap across a narrow gap between two boulders, landing on the shelf of packed earth that curves around the hill.
From here, the view cuts open—peaks rising in the distance, trees spread across the valley in a dark wave.
Wind brushes my face, cool and sharp, pushing strands of hair against my forehead.
"Okay," Tess says when she reaches the edge, "I get it now. This is insane."
Gray sits on a flat stone, catching his breath. Daniel drops his pack and digs around for water bottles, passing them out. My hands tighten around mine, the memory of last night sliding back in with a punch of heat low in my stomach.
Nina's laugh. The weight of her body pressed to mine behind the building. The sharp sweetness of her perfume. The way she tugged me outside to show me the stars and kissed me like she didn't care if anyone saw.
It should've been enough to clear my head. It always is.
Except last night, when her mouth slid over mine, all I could think about was the Omega who wasn't there.
Her scent. Her voice. The way she looked at Daniel this morning like the whole room had narrowed to nothing but him.
Fuck, I'm a mess.
Tess nudges me with her shoulder. "You good?"
"Yeah," I say, taking a drink. "Just thinking about the trail. I haven't been up here in a while."
She studies me with those sharp blue-gray eyes, the ones that miss nothing, and I look away before she can pry.
We rest awhile, letting the air settle around us. A bird darts overhead, wings flashing white as it cuts across the sky. Daniel pulls out his phone and checks something—probably a message from Margaret, or maybe it's a work email.
Gray stretches out his legs, rolling his ankles, gaze drifting toward the tree line. "We could push farther," he says. "If we want."
"We can," I say, "but the light will fade fast. And I promised Mrs. Lacey we'd be back before dark this time."
Daniel smirks. "That was her roundabout way of telling us not to go out drinking too late. I think we get kind of loud. Leo has this habit of blasting his music everywhere we go."
Tess laughs. "I need the full version of that story someday."
"There is no good version," Gray says, rubbing his temple. "Leo is just very loud."
Tess raises her hands. "Noted. No letting Leo drive at night."
"I'm an excellent driver," I protest.
Gray gestures at me lazily. "Worst backseat singer known to man."
Tess's eyes sparkle. "Oh, now I definitely want to hear that."
"You won't," I shoot back. "It's a privilege reserved for pack members only."
That word sits oddly on my tongue right now.
Pack. I look at the two of them—Gray watching the wind shift, Daniel checking the horizon as if danger might hide behind the pines—and something tightens in my chest. These men are my family.
This bond is the thing I rely on the most. And yet, lately, something feels off-balance.
Something—or someone—is pulling threads loose.
We start the hike back, slower this time.
Tess walks beside me, asking about the flora on the ridge, wanting to know which trees survive the harshest winters and which animals migrate through here.
I answer everything easily, letting the instructor in me take over.
It feels good to talk about what I know, what I've built my whole life around.
Summit High Adventures grew from trails like these, from every inch of country I learned by heart.
A gust of wind rushes through us. Tess shivers and tugs her gloves tighter. "You weren't kidding about the cold."
"This is nothing," I say. "In January, you can't feel your face."
"And yet you still sleep outside."
"Only when I'm feeling brave."
Daniel snorts again, the sound carrying over the crunch of snow. "Brave? Says the guy who wrestled a mountain goat to save a hiker's backpack."
"It wasn't a wrestling match. The goat was startled."
"It chased you."
"For two seconds."
Gray's laughter rumbles through the trees. Tess shakes her head, amused and maybe a little horrified. "Is this what it's like all the time with you three?"
"This is the calm version," I tell her. "Usually someone ends up bleeding."
"Not funny," Daniel mutters.
But it is funny. It's the kind of humor we use to survive everything else—the heartbreaks, the messes, the dangerous situations we've walked into over the years. It's the glue.
And lately, it's been stretched thin. I feel it. They feel it. None of us have said it aloud.
We reach the bottom of the trail as the last of the sunlight slips behind the mountain, leaving shadows stretched across the snow. The air cools fast. My breath fogs as I unlock the SUV. They pile in, shaking off the cold, boots thudding against the floor mats.
When I slide behind the wheel, something settles. Driving mountain roads is second nature to me. Every turn, every slope, every patch of ice has its own story. I flick the heater on and the vents fill the car with warm air that smells faintly of pine and wet wool.
As the engine hums, I can't resist glancing back toward town. I imagine Mara in the café. Hair down her back. Eyes shifting away from Daniel like the ground might swallow her whole if she looks too long.
And then the thing I don't want to admit tightens in my ribs. I can smell her in my mind. Like honey warming over fire.
Tess catches me looking and quirks a brow. "Everything all right?"
"Yeah," I answer, clearing my throat. "Just thinking."
Gray doesn't look at me, but he feels it. He always does. "About last night?"
I grip the steering wheel. "Maybe."
Daniel leans forward from the back seat. "And maybe not," he says quietly. "You good?"
I lie automatically. "I'm fine."
But I'm not. Because every time the wind shifts, I catch a ghost of her scent. Because something about her pulled at all the places I keep hidden, even from the two men who know me best.
We start driving, the headlights cutting through the gathering dusk. Tess hums at the view outside the windows. Daniel talks about an upcoming meeting with Henry. Gray comments on an injury he treated last week.
I nod along, but my thoughts keep drifting.
Not to Nina.
To the Omega who stood in the café with her pulse fluttering under Daniel's fingers. The Omega who made my instincts roar even though she barely looked at me.
By the time we reach the lodge, the sky has gone ink-dark and the porch lights glow like lanterns guiding us in. I park the SUV, and everyone climbs out, boots crunching over gravel. Tess stretches her arms high, a muffled groan slipping out.
"Warm shower," she sighs. "That's my priority."
Daniel laughs, claps her shoulder, and heads inside with her. Gray lingers another moment, watching me like he's waiting for something.
"You want to talk?" he asks.
"No," I say, but my voice betrays me.
Gray doesn't push. He never does unless it's life or death. He just nods and follows the others toward the lodge door.