Except it’s not a dream.
It’s real, and I have proof following in my rearview mirror.
“I should go,” I tell Mia. “I’m almost home.”
“Call me later,” she demands. “And Sierra? Whatever happens, I’m here. Okay? Whether you end up with a pack or stay solo, I’m here.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“Love you, babe.”
“Love you, too.”
I hang up and take the exit toward my neighborhood. The familiar streets feel strange after a week away. Like I’m seeing them through different eyes.
My apartment complex comes into view. I’ve lived here forthree years, built my business from this one-bedroom unit, created a life that’s entirely mine.
And suddenly, the thought of going back to that solitary existence makes my stomach plummet.
I pull into my assigned parking spot and kill the engine. Sit there for a moment, hands still on the wheel, trying to center myself.
The truck pulls in behind me.
I watch in my side mirror as all four doors open. As Dax, Malik, Cole, and Jalen climb out and stand there, looking at my building, then at my car.
Waiting.
I take a breath. Another one. Then I get out.
The afternoon air is crisp and cool, nothing like the ocean breeze from the beach house. The city is alive around us. Traffic, distant sirens, someone’s bass thumping from a few buildings over. Normal sounds. Real-world sounds.
We stand there in the parking lot, all five of us, and it’s suddenly awkward in a way it hasn’t been all week.
“This is me,” I say, gesturing toward my building. “Third floor, east side.”
They look at the building, taking it in. I try to see it through their eyes. Modest. Functional. Very different from the luxury rental we just left.
“Nice neighborhood,” Malik says. “Close to downtown.”
“Good for business,” I agree. “Most of my clients are in this area.”
More silence.
This is excruciating.
“So,” I start, at the same time Dax says, “Sierra?—”
We both stop.
“You first,” I say.
Dax looks at his pack brothers, and something passes between them. Some silent communication that ends with Cole nodding and Jalen making a gesture that looks like ‘go ahead.’
“Aren’t you coming home with us?” Dax asks.
The question stops my heart.
“Home?” I repeat, sure I misheard.
