Lakelyn tightens her hold on me, her head resting against my shoulder. “You’re not a mess. And even if you were, we’d still want you.”
It’s so simple, the way she says it. Like it’s a fact, not up for debate. And suddenly, the sarcasm I use to keep people at arm’s length feels a little… pointless.
I try to hold onto it anyway, because being vulnerable with them still feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. “Well, aren’t you all saints?” I mutter, more to myself than to them. “Maybe I’ll go easy on you for the first week. Don’t want to scare you all off.”
“The first week?” Mason’s voice cuts through the tension, his head tilting slightly, all alpha in that way that makes me feel like he can see right through me. Like he caught the slip I didn’t even realize I made.
I roll my eyes, the sarcasm kicking back in as a defense. “Yeah, you know, a trial period. Free returns if I turn out to be too much of a handful.”
Lakelyn laughs softly from beside me, her fingers holding me tighter, and for a second, the knot in my chest loosens. She gets me. She has since that first day. But Mason—he just grins, this slow, confident thing that makes my stomach do an annoying little flip.
“Good thing we’re not interested in returns,” he says, stepping closer, his gaze locked on mine. “You’re ours now.”
I feel my throat tighten, but I manage to keep my smile in place. “Bold of you to assume I’ve agreed to anything.”
Mason just quirks an eyebrow, his grin growing.
Dean doesn’t say a word, but I can feel his stare, the intensity of his presence like a pressure I can’t ignore. He steps in, too, his eyes boring into me like he’s daring me to push back. "You’re staying, Chad. We all know it."
My heart kicks up a beat. He’s right. As much as I want to pretend I have one foot out the door, the truth is... I’m here. I made this choice. But that doesn’t mean I’m not scared out of my mind. Being wanted by them feels too good, too risky, and it’s not something I know how to handle without falling into old habits.
Lakelyn squeezes my hand, pulling me out of my head. “We’re in this together. No running. Not this time.”
The look in her eyes—the warmth, the certainty—pulls at something deep inside me. And Mason and Dean, they’re both standing there, solid and unmoving. Not judging. Not pulling away.
For the first time, I let myself believe that maybe they won’t.
I let out a slow breath. “Alright. But just so you know, I’m still going to be a smartass.”
Maybe if I keep telling them, they won’t be surprised when it’s true.
Mason’s grin widens. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Dean nods, his lips twitching with the faintest hint of a smile. “We like you as you are, Chad.”
The words hit harder than I expected. He likes me—as I am. He actually said that out loud. I stand there thrown for a second, trying to process it. It’s like he’s flipping the script on everything I’ve told myself for years. Every wall I’ve built, every defense, starts to feel… shaky, like his words are a hammer chipping away at the foundation.
I’ve spent so long assuming I wasn’t enough, always too much of something or not enough of another. But here he is, telling me I’m enough. And suddenly, the urge to run, to push them all away before they can do it to me, doesn’t feel like something I want to do.
“Fine,” I mutter, my voice thick with sarcasm because that’s my safety net. “But no complaints when I start driving you all insane.”
Lakelyn giggles, nudging me playfully, while Mason just raises an eyebrow, like he’s already bracing for the ride. But it’s Dean who catches my attention again. He steps in, closer this time, his eyes steady like he’s making a promise.
“You won’t,” he says quietly, his voice unshakable. “We’re ready.”
The way he says it makes my chest tighten. That certainty—it’s not just words. He means it, and it hits me harder than anything else. I blink, caught off guard, unsure how to respond.
“I hope so,” I mutter, trying to keep my voice casual, but my heart is racing.
The twinkling lightson the ceiling blink down at me as I stir awake. Something must have pulled me from sleep, but now that I’m up, I can’t pinpoint what. Mason’s soft snores fill the quiet, his deep breathing steady on the other side of Lakelyn. The air is thick with the comforting blend of our scents—his warm musk, like marshmallows toasting over a campfire; Dean’s sharp, fresh scent, like a walk through a forest at dawn; Lakelyn’s sweetness, like freshly baked blueberry pie, all mixed together with my own papaya and lime perfume. It’s like we were made to fit together, a perfect melody of smells.
It wraps around me, a blanket of warmth and safety.
As if sensing my thoughts, Dean shifts, pulling me closer even in his sleep. He murmurs something, words lost to dreams, and Lakelyn instinctively snuggles back into me, following the heat of my body. Mason moves too, a subtle shift as if none of us can bear to be apart, even unconscious.
Is this what it means to be a scent-bound pack?
Dean shifts again behind me, his arm tightening around my waist, pulling me even closer to him. The warmth of his body presses against mine, his breath soft and steady as it brushes my neck. In his sleep, he nuzzles into me, lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below my ear. It’s gentle, barely there, but it sends a shock through me—a pure, bright sensation that shoots straight down into my stomach.
