A long pause. Then, barely a breath, “I didn’t know.”
“Now you do.”
She doesn’t say anything else. But her hand finds mine under the blanket and squeezes once.
That squeeze hits me harder than a kiss would have. My whole body goes tight with it. With the trust in that small gesture. With everything it means.
I lean in and press my lips to her forehead. Soft. Gentle. The kind of kiss that saysI’ve got youwithout asking for anything in return.
When I pull back, her eyes are already closing again. But there’s a small smile on her lips.
The back door opens and closes. Footsteps, then Ben and Elijah appear with arms full of firewood and candles. They stop when they see me on the floor beside her, her hand still loosely holding mine, that small smile still lingering.
Ben looks at me. Then at her. Then back at me.
I wait for the jealousy. The territorial snarl. Theback off, she’s minethat should be tearing up my throat.
It doesn’t come.
And from the look on Ben’s face, on Elijah’s, it’s not coming from them either.
Just... rightness. Like puzzle pieces clicking into place.
An hour later,Tessa’s fully asleep. Curled into the couch cushions with her face pressed into the pillow Ben tucked under her head. The fire’s burned down to embers, and outside the storm is still howling, though maybe a little less violently than before.
Ben, Elijah, and I are sitting at the kitchen table, voices low. The fire’s the only light now, casting flickering shadows across the walls.
“So.” I take a sip of my beer. “We should probably talk about this.”
Ben’s jaw tightens. “Talk about what?”
“About the fact that we’re all falling for the same woman.” No point dancing around it. “And we need to figure out what we’re doing about it.”
Elijah’s turning his beer bottle in slow circles. He does that—goes internal when he’s processing. I’ve learned to wait him out.
“She’s been alone a long time,” he says finally. “You can see it. The way she doesn’t know how to let people help. The way she’s surprised when someone shows up for her.”
“Foster kid,” Ben says, voice rough. “She mentioned it once. Aged out of the system at eighteen. No family.”
That lands like a punch to the gut. No wonder she keeps everyone at arm’s length. No wonder she’s built walls so high you’d need climbing gear to get over them.
“So we don’t push,” I say. “We let her set the pace. All three of us.”
Ben looks at me. “You’re serious about this? A pack?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He doesn’t answer, but I can see him thinking. Packs form all the time in Honeyridge. It’s not complicated. What’s complicated is the three of us—different as we are—figuring out how to do this together.
“Can you work with us?” I ask Elijah.
He considers it. Really considers it, the way Elijah does everything—carefully, thoroughly.
“Yes,” he says finally. “If it’s for her.”
I look at Ben. “What about you?”
He’s silent for a long moment. Then he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.
