But I learned a long time ago that wanting things only leads to disappointment. That letting people in only gives them the power to hurt you. That hope is just another word for setting yourself up for failure.
So I’ll play my part. I’ll show up to the dinners, and the events, and the championship in Denver. I’ll let them stand close enough that people believe we’re courting. I’ll maybe even letmyself enjoy being wrapped in their scents, in the temporary fantasy that I could belong to a pack like theirs.
But I won’t let my heart get involved. Won’t let myself believe this is anything more than a business arrangement with an expiration date.
Even if the tingle of excitement in my chest and the pleased rumble of my Omega suggest that keeping my heart out of this is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Two months. I can survive anything for two months.
Then I’ll go back to my regularly scheduled life of solitude and self-sufficiency, and Pack McCrae can find an Omega who wants to be a center.
The thought should be comforting.
Instead, it just makes me want to cry.
I make it three blocks before I have to pull over, my hands shaking too hard to drive safely. I grip the steering wheel and force myself to breathe through the panic and confusion and that stupid, stubborn hope that refuses to die.
This is fake. It’s temporary. It’s a means to an end.
I just have to keep reminding myself of that.
Even if every instinct I have is screaming that I’m lying to myself.
Even if the thought of walking away in two months feels like I’ll be tearing out a piece of my own heart.
Even if, deep down, I’m terrified that I’m going to fall for them—for all three of them—and there won’t be any way to protect myself when this arrangement ends, and I’m left alone again.
But that’s a problem for future Willa.
Present Willa just has to survive the next two months without completely losing herself to a fantasy that was never meant to be real.
How hard could it be?
THIRTEEN
beau
Charlie: You better not fuck this up.
Jake: Bring her somewhere she can relax. She’s going to be wound tight.
Beau: Thanks for the vote of confidence, assholes.
Charlie: I’m serious. She’s probably freaking out right now. Go slow.
Jake: And for the love of God, don’t try to kiss her on the first date.
Beau: This isn’t actually our first date. We already kissed. Remember?
Charlie: That doesn’t count, and you know it.
Jake: He’s right. Tonight counts. Make it good.
Beau: You two are worse than my mother.
Buttercup’s sittingshotgun when I pull up to Willa’s place, his squished little Pomeranianface pressed against the window, tail wagging so hard his whole body shakes.
“You’re supposed to be my wingman, not steal the show,” I mutter, but I’m smiling as I climb out of the truck.
