"Have been for years," Cassian confirms. He guides me back to the couch, and we sink into the cushions together. His arm wraps around my shoulders, and I tuck myself against his chest. "Which is fine, people do what works for them. But why get married if you're not exclusive? Why go through all of this if you don't actually want it?"
"Money," I say, because I've been around enough weddings to know that it usually comes down to that. "They probably need it for something. Or there's some financial advantage to being legally married."
"That's what I'm thinking," Cassian says. "And I want to know what it is."
"Why do you need to figure it out?" I ask, even though I think I know the answer. I can feel it in the way he's holding me, in the way he defended me against Ben.
"Because I'm going to help you," he says. He pulls back slightly to look at me, and his expression is serious. "And because something's not right. Something about all of this iswrong, and I want to know what it is. More importantly, I want to know what Ben's doing to Grandpa."
"Your grandfather?" I ask. "What does he have to do with the wedding?"
"Everything," Cassian says quietly. "But that's a conversation for another time. For now, just know that I want to help. I want to figure this out with you."
"You don't have to do that," I say, but I'm already hoping that he will.
"I want to," he says. And then, softer, "Do you want my help?"
"I don't mind helping you help me," I offer, and it sounds ridiculous even as I say it, but Cassian just smiles like it's the best thing he's heard all night.
"Good," he says. "Because we're going to figure this out together."
He drives me back to my hotel, and the whole drive is quiet in a way that feels comfortable instead of awkward. We don't talk much, just exist in the same space while the dark streets of Pine Hollow slip past the windows. His hand rests on my thigh, and I rest mine on top of his, feeling the warmth of him, the realness of him.
When we pull up to the curb in front of the small hotel, I feel a flutter of panic. This moment, this perfect moment where everything feels right, is about to end.
He walks me to the door, his hand never leaving the small of my back. The night air is cool, and I can smell pine trees andsomething else that's purely Cassian—smoke and leather and something dark and warm.
"Thank you," I say, my key card already in my hand. "For tonight. For standing up to Ben. For... everything."
"Thank you for being here," he says. "For being willing to help. For making me laugh about the fake wedding guest app."
"That app is definitely going to be a real thing someday," I say, trying to make my voice light even though my chest feels tight. "Someone's going to make millions off of it."
"When they do, you'll owe me royalties," he says, and he's smiling, and I'm thinking about how I've somehow managed to fall for my ex's brother, and how insane that is, and how little I actually care about the insanity of it.
He kisses me at the door, and it's passionate and deep and everything a kiss should be, even though this is at least the third time we've kissed tonight. When he pulls back, I'm dizzy. My hand is still gripping his shirt, and I have to force myself to let go.
"I'll call you tomorrow," he says. "We'll figure out our next move."
"Okay," I agree, even though I know I should probably maintain some kind of professional boundary here.
I watch him walk back to his truck, and I'm standing on the curb of a small hotel in a small town, and I'm thinking about how I've somehow managed to fall for my ex's brother.
Thanks, universe. I was sure the ground was crumbling under me, yet here I am, finding my footing. The girl who thought she couldn’t handle any of this is gone. In her place stands someone who might actually be ready for more.
8
JETT
I'm sitting on the floor of Savannah and her pack's living room with my back against the couch, watching Griff and Xavier argue over a bowl of popcorn like they're twelve instead of grown alphas. There's already a trail of chips on the hardwood floor leading from the kitchen. Logan follows behind them with a dish towel slung over his shoulder, moving with that calm firefighter energy that probably keeps this place from burning down on a regular basis.
The room smells like pack. Coffee and wood smoke and the lingering scent of whatever they cooked for dinner. Leather from the couch. Logs stacked by the fireplace. It's warm. Full. Loud in the way pack houses are supposed to be.
Cassian's standing by the window with a mug of coffee in his hand, pretending he's not watching the clock. Pine is over by the fireplace stacking more wood even though the pile is already twice my height. My body won't sit still. I keep shifting, my muscles tense like I'm about to sprint through a stunt sequence.
Sharon's laugh drifts in from the kitchen. She's talking to Savannah about wedding linens or color schemes or some other detail that normally wouldn't mean a damn thing to me. Buthearing her voice, the way she gets animated when she's working through a problem, feels like a hook in my chest.
Griff nudges Xavier with his elbow. "She's cute when she gets all bossy about napkin folds."
