“And me,” Beau adds flatly.
Silence stretches, and I glance back at him.
“You’re not hiding it.”
He shrugs. “Wasn’t planning to.”
The words land heavy: ownership without apology.
Emery turns slowly, eyes moving between us. I expect her to bristle, to shut it down, but instead, she folds her arms loosely and says, “You’re both doing that thing.”
Beau raises an eyebrow. “Whatthing?”
“Circling,” she replies. “Waiting for someone else to move first.”
I snort. “You got a schedule in mind?”
Her mouth curves slightly. “I do, actually.”
She walks to the door and closes it behind her. The click echoes louder than it should, then she turns back to us.
“Here’s the situation,” she says calmly. “I didn’t want either of you in here tocompete, and I’m not interested in pretending I don’t feel what’s happening in this room.”
Beau shifts. I do too. Still: neither of us backs off.
“There’s no reason this has to be a problem,” she continues. “Unless you make it one.”
Beau studies her for a long beat.
“You’re sure about this.”
She meets his gaze without hesitation. “I am.”
Then she looks at me.
“And you?”
My alpha instincts surge, but I push them down as best I can, trying to gain control over my rising pulse.
“I didn’t come here to fight,” I admit.
Her smile is slow.
“Good,” she says, nodding her head. “Because I don’t want to choose.”
The words hit like a dropped puck, and Beau exhales. Ifeelit—the way that his restraint tightens.
The room hums.
“I want both of you,” she clarifies.
I glance at Beau, who’s watching her like she’s the only fixed point in the universe.
“You okay with that?” I ask him quietly.
He simply shrugs his shoulders.
“I’d rather adapt than lose her.”
