But here I am. Bonded to Seth. Moving in with all three of them. Bringing my pack home for Christmas.
The bond with Seth pulses warm in my chest—steady, certain, new. But there's something else too. Something incomplete. Like I'm holding my breath, waiting for the other pieces to fall into place.
River and Grayson.
I haven't bonded them yet. And despite how right everything feels with Seth, I can feel that absence. That pull toward something more.
My phone buzzes again.
River:How's it going with your family?
Grayson:Ben threatening violence yet?
Me:All good. They're excited for Christmas dinner. Fair warning though - Ben's already sharpening his shovel talk.
River:Bring it on.
Grayson:I've survived worse than overprotective brothers.
I smile, tucking my phone away.
But as I sit here with my family, warm and safe and happier than I've been in years, I can't help but think about what comes next.
The bond with Seth is still so new. Still overwhelming sometimes, feeling him constantly in the back of my mind. I'm not ready to add two more bonds to that. Not yet.
But I will be. Someday.
And when I am... I hope River and Grayson will still be waiting.
Chapter 26
Bea
"Your mom cried over my cinnamon rolls."
I look up from the box I'm taping to find River leaning in my childhood bedroom doorway, grinning like he just won the lottery. His pine-and-snow scent drifts into the room, immediately making everything feel calmer.
"She teared up," I correct, shoving another sweater into the box. "That's basically the same thing for Mom."
"I'm counting it as crying." He moves into the room, his hand finding my waist as he passes. "Your mom cried over my baking. That's going on my résumé."
Seth appears behind him, arms full of books. Cedar-and-rain washes over me, mixing with River's pine until my small bedroom smells like pack.
"Your dad gave me the shovel talk," he says, more amused than anxious. "Very politely. But definitely a shovel talk."
"That means he likes you." I move to take some books, and he leans down to press a quick kiss to my temple—confident, easy. Through the bond, I feel his pleased contentment. "If he didn't care, he wouldn't bother."
"Your Papa quoted Shakespeare at me. Was that a test?"
"Definitely a test." I abandon the box to cup his face, letting him feel my certainty through our connection. "You passed. He wouldn't have spent thirty minutes helping you reorganize his bookshelf otherwise."
Relief floods through the bond, tempered with satisfaction. Being connected to Seth means I can feel every emotion, and right now he's feeling good. Confident.
"Besides," I add, stretching up to kiss him softly, "Papa said you have 'excellent organizational sensibilities.' That's the highest praise he gives."
Grayson appears in the doorway, ink-and-leather joining the mix—sharp and dark and somehow perfect with the others. He moves to my closet, already organizing, but not before his hand trails across my shoulders.
"I brought expensive wine," he says, labeling another box with meticulous handwriting. "And let your father interrogate my knowledge of Renaissance literature."
