“Where are we going?”
“To get you more cider. And then we’re going to figure out how to get you and your brother in the same room.”
I take his hand. “You make it sound easy.”
“That’s because it is. You’re family.” He grins. “And lucky for you, I’m excellent at meddling.”
“Is that what you call it? Meddling?”
“Absolutely. It’s one of my best skills.” He tugs me forward, weaving us through the crowd. “But first, I need to find yousomething warm to wear. My Alpha can’t handle thinking you’re freezing.”
“Jake!” I laugh, but relish the sweet feeling of him being protective provokes.
“Look at this,” he says, stopping at a booth run by a familiar face—Addie Wells, an Omega who works at Timberland Outfitters and makes the most adorable handmade hats and mittens on the side.
“Willa, Jake!” Addie greets us with a bright smile. “Out on a date?”
“Yes,” Jake says at the same time I say, “Sort of.”
Addie laughs. “Well, whatever it is, you two are adorable. Looking for anything specific?”
Jake’s already looking through the selection, and before I can protest, he’s holding up a soft pink beanie. “This one. And…” He grabs a pair of mittens that are shaped like goose heads, complete with little orange beaks where the fingers go. “These.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re not serious.”
“Completely serious.” He hands them to Addie. “We’ll take both.”
“Jake, you don’t have to?—”
“I want to.” He pays before I can argue, then hands me the hat and mittens. “Try them on.”
I roll my eyes but pull on the beanie. It’s incredibly soft, warm, and fits perfectly. The mittens are ridiculous—the goose heads fit in a way that whenI move my hands, it’s like a little puppet. They’re weird, but they’re also kind of perfect.
“You look beautiful,” Jake says, and there’s something in his voice that makes my heart skip.
My Omega preens at the praise, at the gift, at the way he’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the entire square. It’s overwhelming and wonderful and terrifying all at once.
“Thank you,” I manage.
We skate for an hour, and I’m terrible at it. I spend most of the time clinging to Jake’s arm while he laughs and helps me stay upright. But it’s fun, and I can’t remember the last time I let myself just enjoy something without overthinking it.
By the time we leave the rink, my cheeks hurt from smiling, and my legs are shaky from trying not to fall. Jake keeps his arm around me as we walk back to the truck, and I let him, soaking in his warmth.
“Did you have fun?” he asks as we reach the truck.
“I did.” I look up at him, this man who broke my heart and is somehow putting it back together. “Thank you, Jake. This was… perfect.”
“Good.” He opens my door, his hand lingering on my lower back. “Let’s get you warmed up.”
I slide into the passenger seat, and when Jake climbs in beside me, the cab suddenly feels smaller, more intimate. He starts the engine, letting it warm up, and his hand finds my thigh.
He glances at me to make sure it's okay.
I let my hand rest on his, the familiarity of the gesture releasing a part of me.
His palm is big and warm, and I’m thoroughly distracted by the weird way memories and this moment keep tripping over each other. His hand is still at first—just resting there, his palm warm through my jeans. But then his thumb starts moving, stroking back and forth in a gentle rhythm that sends shivers up my spine.
I try to focus on the road, on the Christmas lights fading behind us as we leave downtown, but all I can feel is that touch. That steady, maddening stroke of his thumb.
