And Graham…Graham kissed me like a man losing control of himself, and then pulled away like it broke him. Of course he did. I’ve been around him long enough to understand that control is his armor. Kissing the omega he’s supposed to protect? That probably tops his list of bad ideas, even if he wants it just as badly as I do.
And Carson is right, there’s something about Finn. It’s not pity. It’s deeper than that. There’s a part of me that aches to see him smile, to feel that soft, almost reverent way he looks at me. As though I’m his entire sky. If letting him take all the pictures he wants makes him happy, I think I’d let him. That’s such a small thing to give. Just time. Just…being seen.
The real question is—can I trust this?
This slowly-growing happiness.
I jumped headfirst into a bond with Landon, and it almost destroyed me. So how do I trust them not to break me too?
My stomach twists with nervous energy, and my scent reflects it—sharp, uncertain. But then Carson’s spiked hot cocoa and marshmallow musk fills the space, rich and warm. My omega instincts respond instantly, humming in my bones..
Maybe I’m already past the point of no return. Because even if I can’t trust them…if they left now, they’d still take pieces of me with them.
“I think I’m falling for you, too,” I say after a long silence.
Saying it out loud makes my breath catch. Shit. It’s real now.
I try to shake off the tension coiling in my body and glance up at him, attempting to lighten the mood. “What kind of sharing are we talking about, though?”
Carson’s grin is slow, wicked, and so confident. “Well, Graham was mine first,” he says with a wink.
I flush so hard I feel it all the way to my toes.
I knew that was the nature of their relationship. I’d guessed it. Felt it. But still—hearing it confirmed? Not something you can just ask about in casual conversation with your bodyguards.
We’re walking slowly, Carson letting me set the pace, our shoulders brushing every few steps, but I’m not really in the moment. I’m somewhere else. A memory slides into place, uninvited but persistent.
I can see them—Carson, Graham, and Hunter—leaning against the rail at the rink weeks ago. The light had slanted through the upper windows, catching Carson’s grin as he said something cocky, head tilted, knowing it would get under Graham’s skin.
And it did.
Graham didn’t even glance at him. Just reached out absently and curled his fingers around Carson’s wrist, that grounding touch so casual that it made my stomach flip. It was a natural movement, something done so frequently there wasn’t even a thought. As if Carson was his, and Graham didn’t need to prove it with words.
Hunter was watching them both, a small smile cracking across his face. The kind of smile you give the people who make you feel whole.
They didn’t see me standing there, sweaty and breathless after practice, pretending to scroll on my phone while secretly devouring that entire moment with my eyes.
They weren’t bodyguards that day. They weren’t a security team hired to protect me.
They were a pack.
A real one. And I wanted that—God, I wanted that so badly it made my chest ache. Not just the safety, the protection. I wanted the warmth. The easiness. The belonging.
“Peaches?” Carson’s voice pulls me back, soft but close.
I blink and realize we’re standing in front of my apartment building. My hand is resting on the cool metal of the door without even realizing I’d reached for it.
I turn my head, looking up at him. His brow is furrowed like he’s been watching me drift and wasn’t sure if he should pull me back.
“You okay?” he asks, quiet now, just for me.
I nod. Swallow. “Just thinking.”
He searches my face for a beat. “Good things?”
I shrug. “Better than bad.”
A soft smile plays at his lips, but he doesn’t push.
