“She didn’t mean to say it out loud, not really,” I add quickly. “But it slipped. And it changes everything, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Carson says quietly. “It does.”
Because it’s not just an old boyfriend. Not just some past mistake.
It’s the bond. The first bond. The one that’s supposed to be for life. The one alphas spend years hoping for, and omegas are told they’re lucky to find.
“She didn’t perfume for him,” I say quietly. “Not even when he gave her back the necklace.”
That sobers both of them.
“She didn’t react,” I go on. “But she didn’t walk away, either. And when she followed him out that door, all I could think was…what if she’s not over him?”
Graham’s jaw clenches.
Carson looks at me, his voice softer now, the sarcasm fading just enough. “You thinking we let him in?”
“I’m saying…” I blow out a breath. “If it comes down to it—if she asks us to—can we make space for him? In the pack?”
Graham doesn’t answer right away. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “You know I don’t play nice with people who hurt what’s mine.”
“She’s not ours like that,” I say. “Not unless she chooses us. And if she does—if he’s part of that choice—can we live with it?”
Carson swears under his breath, standing up and pacing toward the kitchen. “You’re asking the guy she tried to one-night-stand in her own apartment if he’s willing to share?”
I nod.
He turns around slowly, something calmer in his expression now. “If it means keeping her? If it means she stays happy, safe, and knows how fucking loved she is?” He shrugs. “Yeah. I’ll deal.”
Graham grunts. “Only if he earns it.”
Carson nods once. “And only if she’s sure.”
“She’s already ours,” I say.
“Yeah,” Carson murmurs. “But maybe being hers means letting her decide who she needs.”
We fall into silence again.
But something shifts between us. The truth’s been dragged into the light, and none of us are going to hide from it anymore.
Landon might always have a place in her heart.
And if she asks us to let him in?
Then we’ll find a way.
For her.
I hesitate at her door.Not because I’m unsure, but because I want to get it right. She’s been quiet since practice. Since Landon. Since everything.
I knock twice, firm but gentle. “Willow?”
A soft rustle, then, “Come in.”
I ease the door open.
She’s curled in the middle of her makeshift nest, blankets layered into a cocoon of safety and warmth. The little heat pillow Carson got her is tucked against her chest, and one of my hoodies is tangled in the edge of the pile.
