Nate shrugs again. “It’s just what you do. Seth and his pack are still figuring things out, but they make it work. Compromise, communication.” He glances at me. “Pack stuff.”
Pack stuff. Compromise. Communication.
Other people’s schedules affecting yours. Other people’s needs shaping your choices. Never being able to just decide something for yourself without considering how it impacts everyone else.
The panic I’ve been holding at bay all morning crashes over me.
That’s what a pack would mean. That’s what Ben and Milo and Elijah would mean. I wouldn’t just be Tessa anymore—Tessa who controls her own schedule, her own life, her own carefully organized existence. I’d be part of something bigger. Something I couldn’t manage or plan or control.
And Ben said no to the auction.
Ben, who I just spent four days wrapped around. Ben, who made me laugh even when I was barely conscious. Ben, who looked at me like I was everything—and then saidnoto a simple request, and I couldn’t change his mind, couldn’t convince him, couldn’t control?—
“Tessa?” Nate’s voice cuts through my spiral. “You okay? You’ve gone pale.”
“Fine.” The word is automatic. “Just tired.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. We’re pulling into town now anyway—snow-covered rooftops, smoke rising from chimneys, the familiar comfort of Main Street coming into view.
“Where do you need to be dropped? Home?”
I nod. “Please.”
He doesn’t need to ask for the address. Small town.
I stare out the window at Honeyridge Falls—this town I’ve made my home for the past three years. This place where I’ve built a reputation, a career, a perfectly controlled life. Everything in its place. Everything manageable.
And now three alphas are threatening to upend all of it.
Nate pulls up outside my building. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” I fumble for the door handle. “For the ride. And for agreeing to the auction.”
“No problem.” He pauses, and when I look back, his expression is uncharacteristically gentle. “Tessa. Whatever’s going on with you and those three—that’s your business. But running doesn’t usually solve much. Take it from someone who tried.”
I nod, not trusting my voice, and climb out of the truck.
My apartment is exactlyas I left it.
Throw pillows arranged just so. Books organized by color on the shelves. Kitchen spotless, counters bare except for the single orchid I’ve somehow kept alive for eighteen months. Everything in its proper place.
I stand in the doorway for a long moment, just looking at it. Four days ago, this was my sanctuary. My perfectly controlled little world.
Now it feels like a museum exhibit.Here lies the life of Tessa Lang, control freak extraordinaire. Please do not touch the color-coded bookshelf.
I make myself move. Tea first. Then work. That’s the plan.
I plug in my laptop and settle onto the couch with a steaming mug. Work. I need to focus on work. The festival is in just over a week and I’ve lost days to the blizzard. There are vendors to confirm, volunteers to schedule, bachelor bios to finalize now that I finally have all eight participants—thanks to Nate agreeing in the truck.
I open my email. Forty-seven unread messages.
I click on the first one. Read it twice. Realize I have no idea what it says because my brain keeps drifting back to the cabin.
To Ben making me smile even when I was barely coherent.
I take a sip of tea. Focus, Tessa.
The second email is from Maeve at the bakery, confirming her dessert donations for the festival. Good. I type a quick thank-you, hit send, and scroll to the next one.
