But now, for the first time, I think about what that money could do. What it could build.
A house. Not my sparse cabin with its utilitarian furnishings and tactical sight lines. A real home, with a kitchen where Holly could make her tea in the mornings. Bookshelves for her medical texts. A garden, maybe, if she likes growing things. Somewhere safe, where she could be herself without hiding, in whatever place she wants to be after she leaves here.
I’d buy her anything she wanted. Anywhere she wanted.
Because I’ve already decided. Holly is mine. Ours, technically, with Noah and Kai in the equation. I’ll drag them both unwillingly into this if that’s what it takes. Holly wants a pack, even if she hasn’t ever come out and admitted it. I plan to give her whatever it is she wants from this moment into infinity. The alpha in me has recognized her, claimed her in a way that goes beyond anything as physical as a bond. She was mine in spirit from the moment I laid eyes on her. Her feelings matter—I’d never force her—but I’ve made my decision. I’ll do whatever it takes to convince her to stay with us, or let us follow her.
“Are you even listening to me?” Mrs. Calloway demands, snapping me back to the present.
I nod, though I haven’t heard a word she’s said for the past three minutes.
“Well, I expect those chocolates on Monday, not a day later.” She adjusts her enormous purse on her arm. “And I expect a discount for the inconvenience.”
“Ten percent,” I agree, just to end the conversation.
That seems to placate her. With one final sniff of disapproval, she turns and bustles toward the door, nearly colliding with a woman and her teenage daughter entering the store.
I recognize them immediately and suppress a groan. Marissa Wilson and her daughter Amber. The girl is an omega barely out of high school, and Marissa has been parading her in front of every eligible alpha within a hundred-mile radius for months.
“Grayson!” Marissa’s voice is syrupy sweet, setting my teeth on edge. “Just the man we were hoping to see.”
I nod stiffly, already looking for an escape route. Jenkins, the traitor, suddenly becomes very interested in reorganizing the candy display.
“Amber was just saying how helpful you were last time we needed camping supplies.” Marissa nudges her daughter forward. The girl looks mortified, her cheeks flaming red. “Weren’t you, dear?”
“C’mon, Mom,” Amber mutters, staring at the floor.
“We’re planning another trip this spring,” Marissa continues, undeterred. “Maybe you could give Amber some private lessons on wilderness survival? I’m sure a big, strong alpha like you has so much knowledge to share.”
The suggestion hangs in the air, about as subtle as a hand grenade. I feel a surge of pity for Amber, who looks like she wants the floor to swallow her whole.
“Can’t,” I say flatly. “Mated.”
The word drops like a stone in still water. Jenkins’s head snaps up so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t hurt himself. Marissa’s mouth falls open, her carefully applied lipstick making a perfect ‘O’ of shock.
“Mated?” she repeats, as if I’ve just announced I’m actually a space alien. “Since when? To whom?”
“Recent,” I say, offering nothing more. “You don’t know her.”
Marissa looks like she’s about to demand details, but something in my posture must warn her off. Instead, she sniffs dramatically, loops her arm through her daughter’s, and steers the girl toward the door.
“Well, congratulations, I suppose,” she says over her shoulder, not sounding congratulatory at all. “Come along, Amber. We’ll get our camping supplies in Fairbanks, where there’s a better selection.”
The bell jingles as they exit, leaving blessed silence in their wake.
“Mated?” Jenkins asks after a moment, his bushy eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “When exactly did you have time to propose to a girl? And why am I just hearing about it now?”
I shrug, moving to stock the protein bars on their shelf. “Didn’t propose.”
“Then how are you mated?” Jenkins persists, following me down the aisle. For a man in his seventies with a bad hip, he can be surprisingly nimble when he’s after gossip.
I consider not answering. It would be easier. But Jenkins deserves better than my silence. He’s the closest thing to family I have left in Heat Mountain.
“It’s not quite official yet,” I admit, arranging the bars in neat rows. “But we’ll get there.”
Jenkins stares at me for a long moment, then bursts into wheezy laughter. “You mean to tell me you’ve decided you’re mated to some poor girl who hasn’t agreed to it? That’s not how it works, son.”
I straighten up, meeting his amused gaze. “Just because she doesn’t know it yet doesn’t mean she isn’t mine.”
