Chapter 13
Bea
Wednesday is my day off, and I'm spending it staring at my bedroom ceiling like it holds the secrets of the universe.
It doesn't. It just has a water stain shaped vaguely like a duck.
I've been awake since six, replaying yesterday's kiss with Seth on an endless loop. The way he looked at me. The way he tasted. That low, rumbly purr that vibrated through his chest and made something in me sing. The careful, almost reverent way he touched me, like I was something precious.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Seth:Good morning. Hope you slept well. I definitely didn't because I couldn't stop thinking about you.
Heat floods my cheeks. A second text follows.
Seth:Too much? That was too much. Sorry. I'm bad at this.
Seth:I'm going to stop texting now before I make it worse.
I smile as I type back.
Me:It wasn't too much. And I didn't sleep well either. Same reason.
The three dots appear immediately, then disappear. Then appear again.
Seth:That's good. I mean, not that you didn't sleep. But that you were thinking about me. Us. The kiss. I'm going to stop typing now.
Me:Don't stop. I like it when you ramble.
Seth:I like everything about you.
My heart does something complicated in my chest. Before I can respond, another text comes through.
Seth:Okay NOW I'm stopping because I have to go on patrol and I just drove past the same mailbox three times because I'm texting you instead of watching the road.
Me:Please don't crash because of me. That would be a terrible start to a pack.
There's a longer pause this time.
Seth:A pack. You're thinking about it?
Me:I haven't stopped thinking about it.
Seth:Good. That's good. Okay. Gotta go. Stay safe. Text me later?
Me:Promise.
I set the phone down and flop back against my pillows with a groan. A pack. With Seth, River, and Grayson. The idea should terrify me—it does terrify me—but it also feels right in a way I can't quite explain.
Seth kissed me. River held my hand at the Tree Lighting and scented me at his truck. But Grayson...
Grayson and I haven't kissed yet.
And maybe that's what's making me antsy. The unevenness of it all. Like I'm giving pieces of myself to two of them but holding back from the third, even though I don't mean to. Even though every time I'm near Grayson, I want to close the distance between us.
I think about his studio. Those strong, tattooed hands. The way he looks at me like he's cataloging every detail for later. Therough edge to his voice when he talks to me, that mix of intensity and heat that makes my toes curl.
Before I can overthink it, I'm getting dressed.
