“Mmm.” She burrows closer. “You’re warm.”
“You’re shaking.”
“Post-heat thing. It’ll pass.” She pauses. “Probably should’ve warned you guys about this part. The jitters are annoying.”
“We can handle annoying.” My hand finds her back, rubbing slow circles through the blanket. “What do you need? Besides warmth?”
“This.” Her voice is muffled against my chest. “This is good.”
We sit like that for a while, her breathing gradually evening out, the trembling in her limbs slowly subsiding. The TV continues its cheerful chatter in the background. Outside, I can hear my pack brothers moving around, their voices occasionally carrying through the walls.
The storm has quieted to a steady rain. A gentle, almost soothing sound. Like the world is washing itself clean.
“Jalen?” Sierra’s voice is soft, tentative.
“Yeah?”
“What are you thinking?”
The question is simple. The answer isn’t.
I could deflect. Make a joke like Cole would. Keep it light and safe. But sitting here with her curled against me, feeling her trust in every point of contact, I find I don’t want to hide anymore.
“That I don’t want this to end,” I say quietly.
Sierra goes very still against me. For a moment, I think I’ve made a mistake, said too much too soon, pushed when I should have waited.
Then she shifts slightly, just enough to look up at me with those light-brown eyes that have been catalogued in my memory for longer than I want to admit.
“Me neither,” she whispers.
My heart does a hard lurch. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She looks away, focusing on her hands where they’re twisted in the blanket. “But it will. Storm’s clearing. Road’s opening. We all have lives to get back to.”
“Doesn’t have to end completely.”
She looks up at me again, surprise clear in her expression. “What do you mean?”
“We could... I don’t know. Figure something out?” Even saying it feels terrifying. Putting it out there. Making it real instead of just a desperate hope I’ve been nursing in private. “Try... something. See where this goes.”
“This?” she repeats, and I can’t read her tone.
“Us. You and... all of us. Pack.” I swallow hard. “If you wanted to.”
Sierra is quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing absent patterns on my chest through my shirt. I can feel her thinking, processing, weighing options.
“If you’d want that?” I clear my throat. “After everything we did to you? The vendor poaching, the competitive bidding, the?—”
For a few moments, she says nothing, and I think I’ve turned my foot into my mouth.
“Jalen...” She trails off, seeming to struggle with something.
“You don’t have to decide anything now,” I say quickly, because I can see the overwhelm building in her eyes. “I just wanted you to know. That this wasn’t just heat for us. For me. That I’d like to see where this could go, if you’re willing.”
“Why?” The question is soft but genuine. “Why me? We’ve been competitors for two years. We’ve made each other’s professional lives difficult. I’ve?—”
“You’ve been amazing,” I interrupt. “Do you have any idea how impressive you are? How we’d watch you at events and conferences, trying to figure out how you did it? How you connected with clients, created these incredible experiences?”
