Chapter thirty-six
Lily
The box shows up before Jeremy does. Garrett finds it on the front porch and brings it into the kitchen, eyeing the card as if it might explode. “It’s for you,” he says, setting it on the table and stepping back. “From Jeremy.”
The card is thick, off-white, and the handwriting’s perfect. Like someone practiced before writing it out. Looking forward to tonight. Thought you might like something new. — J.
I open the box. Inside, everything’s wrapped in tissue paper: a dress first, deep blue, sleeveless, the fabric softer than anything I own.
Underneath that, shoes. Strappy, silver, with a sensible heel, so I won’t break my neck walking in them.
And tucked in the side, a bunch of wildflowers bound together with twine.
They’re a little wilted already, so he must have picked them himself.
I pick up the flowers and stand there, feeling a little giddy.
It’s thoughtful. More than that, really. It’s what you do for someone when you notice they don’t have any nice things and you want to fix it, but you don’t want to make them feel weird about it. He saw the gap and quietly filled it, no drama.
“That’s actually sweet,” Garrett says, leaning on the counter.
Miles wanders in. He takes in the dress, the flowers, the card. His face cycles fast—curious, judging, then unimpressed.
“Wildflowers,” he says, deadpan. “How rustic.”
“They’re pretty,” I say, because they are.
He shrugs. “They’re weeds with a marketing name.”
I ignore him and take everything to my room to get ready.
The dress fits like it was made for me, which means either Jeremy guessed, read my registry file, or he asked someone.
All of those possibilities make me feel weirdly seen.
I leave my hair down and loose, and put on some mascara and lip color. I’m going for natural tonight.
When I come back out, the living room goes quiet.
Gabriel glances up from his phone. His eyes flick from the dress to my face, and for a second there’s a flash of want—gone before I can be sure I saw it. “You look amazing, Lily.”
“Really nice,” Garrett says. He means it, but he’s also watching for something.
Cyrus gives one of his single nods. But his eyes stick to me, tracking.
Miles is on the couch, sketchbook open, pencil in his hand. He studies me like a rough draft he doesn’t like yet. “You look too good for Jeremy Carr.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s nice. And he’s handsome.”
“Jeremy is beige.”
“Beige isn’t a personality type.”
“It is when that’s all you are.” He goes back to looking at the page, but the pencil doesn’t move. “You’ll probably be living with him soon, so you should start getting used to beige.”
I don’t answer. The words land, exactly as he meant them to, and the room fills up with the things nobody wants to say.
I’m relieved when I hear the truck pull up.
Gabriel opens the door. Jeremy steps in and right away, the difference between the two alphas is impossible to ignore. Gabriel in lounge clothes, barefoot, cedar and smoke clinging to him. Jeremy in a black tuxedo, bow tie and all, polished shoes.
“Lily,” Jeremy says, and his whole face lights up. “You look incredible. The dress is perfect on you.”
“Thank you for sending it. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” He looks so sincere it’s cute.
From the couch, Miles mutters, “Trying too hard.” Gabriel shoots him a look that says knock it off, and Miles subsides reluctantly.
I follow Jeremy out to his truck. “Where’s the rest of your pack?”
“I dropped them off earlier. Wanted to pick you up myself.” He opens my door, waits for me to get settled, then closes it and circles around to the driver’s side. The truck smells like him. Comfortable, even if it doesn’t hit like Gabriel’s does.
The drive is easy. He talks sometimes, but doesn’t fill every silence. He asks how I’m feeling. I tell him better than I have in a long while. That I’m healing.
He goes quiet. Only for a bit, but enough for me to notice.
He’s putting it together in his head. Better means alpha contact.
It means someone at the Santos house is holding me, purring for me, giving me what omegas need.
He doesn’t ask, but he’s thinking about it.
I almost want to take it back and reassure him that I’m not going to stay with them. But I don’t. I’m not sure why.
When we get there, the event is nothing like I pictured. We pull up to this huge glass building downtown, valets everywhere, a red carpet outside.
Inside, it’s a full-on black-tie gala. Waiters glide by with trays of champagne and appetizers that look like tiny jewelry, crystal chandeliers overhead, live music from somewhere out of view. The whole room reeks of money.
The rest of the Carr pack is waiting for us. Leo, Theo, Michael—all of them looking like they walked out of a magazine ad. The suits fit perfectly. Leo hugs me first, warm and lingering. Theo’s is polite. Michael’s is brief, a squeeze on my shoulder before he lets go.
They look good. I try not to compare them to the Santos pack, but I do anyway. Gabriel looks lethal in a tux—I’ve seen it. Cyrus looks like he’s about to throw someone out at all times, formal wear or not. Garrett fits in anywhere. Miles would refuse to put one on at all.
The Carrs lead me through the crowd. Jeremy’s hand lands on my back, steering me, his palm warm through the dress. He introduces me to people: business contacts, family friends, names I lose immediately but faces I try to remember.
“And who is this lovely young lady?” It’s an older alpha with silver hair and a watch that makes you wonder how many zeroes are in his bank account.
“This is Lily,” Jeremy says. “She’s been spending time with our pack.”
“Ah.” The man’s eyes scan my throat, checking for marks. Nothing. He glances back at Jeremy. “Is she going to be joining you?”
“That’s the goal,” Jeremy says, sounding smooth and confident. Then he looks at me. “If she’ll have us.”
I smile and say something about getting to know each other.
The polite dodge the registry teaches omegas for exactly this situation.
The man nods, satisfied. They move on to business talk.
The Carrs don’t cut me out—they explain things when I get lost, ask for my opinion when the topic is something I can relate to.
All night, someone is touching me. A hand at my back, an elbow, a touch at my waist. The Carrs move around me like I’m the center of gravity.
They make sure I have a drink. They bring me food if I look at something too long.
They guide me through crowds with the coordination of people who do this all the time.
It’s… nice. The life they’d give me is clear: the events, the attention, the stability. They’d orbit me and make me feel important. The alpha touch would be steady, predictable, there whenever I needed it.
But then I picture myself with Miles. Both of us in the middle. The Santos alphas revolving around us. Gabriel solid as gravity. Garrett warm as sunshine. Cyrus silent but steady. Two omegas. The pack completely whole, accidental and perfect.
I have to shake the thought out before it digs in too deep.
I’m reaching for a new glass of champagne when I spot him.
Brennan Foster.
My heart drops. He’s across the room, talking with a group of important-looking men. He looks like anyone else here: jacket flawless, easy smile, presence that draws people in without trying. He could be anyone—a CEO, a donor, a stand-up citizen.
But I know better. I know how he looked at me the very first time I saw him. His visit to the Santos house, the offer to buy me. The words that still make my skin crawl: She’s my omega. She just doesn’t know it yet.
He sees me and his smile changes. Just a little, but enough to say he’s found exactly what he was looking for.
He heads over. Jeremy’s fingers on my back tighten a notch.
“Jeremy,” Brennan says, all practiced politeness. Then to me, “And Lily. What a surprise. You look stunning tonight.”
“Thank you,” I say, because what else do you say when you want to scream but can’t?
Brennan turns back to Jeremy, the warmth fading at the edges. “So you’re one of the packs Gabriel’s been trying to push Lily on?”
Jeremy stiffens beside me. “Nobody’s pushing. We enjoy Lily’s company. It has nothing to do with Gabriel.”
“Of course not.” Brennan sips his drink. “I just find it interesting that Gabriel seems so eager to place her anywhere but with me. Makes me wonder what he’s told people.”
“Gabriel hasn’t told us anything. We pursued Lily because we wanted to.”
“Hmm.” Brennan turns to me. His eyes are easy, his scent locked down tight: sandalwood and leather, no bitter notes escaping. “I keep wondering, Lily, why you won’t consider my pack. We’ve made our interest clear. Repeatedly.”
“I don’t think we’d be a good fit,” I say, careful with my voice. My hands shake, my champagne threatening to escape the rim of the flute.
Brennan laughs. Short, dry, not amused at all. “You have no idea how good a fit we’d be. None at all.”
Jeremy steps forward. “Brennan, you’re intruding on our evening. If you don’t mind—“
“Actually, I do mind.” Brennan’s smile is gone. “Jeremy, I have something I need to discuss with you. Privately. It concerns your family.”
The word family slams into the conversation. Jeremy’s face goes pale—confusion and then worry.
“Give me a minute,” Jeremy says to me. “I’ll be right back.”
They walk off together. Brennan’s hand on his shoulder, guiding him away.
I stay with the Carrs. Leo brings me another appetizer.
Theo tries to distract me with a story about sailing but I can’t focus; all I can think about is the look on Jeremy’s face.
Michael stands next to me—a wall of alpha, but it doesn’t help because what I’m afraid of isn’t in the room right now. It left with their lead.
Brennan comes back first. He slips in from a side door, fixes his cuffs, and blends right into the crowd like he never left. He doesn’t look at me. Somehow, that’s worse.
Jeremy doesn’t come back for a long time.