When he pulls back, we're both breathing a little harder than we were before.
His forehead rests against mine. "I need to go. Cassian's going to lose his mind if I don't come back to the house soon. Jett's probably already planning something. But I wanted to make sure you were okay. I wanted to make sure you knew that you're not alone in any of this. You're never going to be alone again."
"I know, and I actually do know that now. For the first time since I arrived in Pine Hollow, I genuinely understand that I'm not carrying this alone. Thank you. For everything. For protecting me. For believing in me. For choosing me."
He leaves with one more kiss pressed to my forehead, and I'm left alone in my hotel room with the scent of sandalwood and metal clinging to my clothes and my thoughts spiraling in the best possible way.
I pull out my phone and text the group chat which Cassian added me to earlier today: "Tangle Peak's wedding is now officially the wedding of the year. And I'm pretty sure I'm falling for three alphas who apparently think I'm worth their time and energy and pack status. Life is weird and wonderful and I'm actually really happy right now."
Cassian's response comes through first: "Told you we'd take care of it. Now get some sleep. You've got the wedding of the year to plan."
Jett: "Welcome to the pack, Sharon. It gets weirder and more wonderful from here. Just wait until you see what we're planning."
Pine: "Goodnight, beautiful."
I fall asleep with my phone in my hand and a smile on my face, knowing that whatever comes next, I'm not facing it alone anymore. The universe threw everything it had at me, and I survived. More than survived, actually. I thrived.
And now I get to plan the wedding of the year with three alphas at my back and a phoenix tattoo design waiting for me whenever I'm ready to make it permanent.Sharon
The hotel room looks even smaller in the morning light. I lie there staring at the ceiling like it's personally responsible for my emotional instability, counting the little divots in the plaster until I lose count at seventeen. Again. The air conditioner hums its judgmental hum somewhere to my left, and I can hear someone in the room next door running water through pipes that sound like they're older than I am.
The sheets smell like industrial detergent and loneliness. Also maybe a hint of the lavender spray the cleaning staff uses to mask the scent of a thousand previous guests. It's not working.
I grab my phone off the nightstand and stare at Pine's contact information like it holds the answers to questions I'm not ready to ask. My thumb hovers over his name. I pull it back. I hover again. This is pathetic. I am a grown woman who can make a simple phone call without having an existential crisis about it.
I press call before I can talk myself out of it.
He answers on the second ring in that soft, low voice that should honestly be illegal. "Hey."
My brain short circuits for half a second because apparently that's what we're doing now. "Hi," I say, staring at the beige curtains like they're a witness to my choices. They're ugly curtains. Beige with a pattern that might be flowers or might be abstract blobs. "Weird question. Do you mind if I come over later? The hotel's starting to feel like a dentist's waiting room but with worse lighting."
He doesn't even hesitate. "Come whenever you want. You never have to ask."
Which is a dangerous and reckless thing to tell me, because I imprint on comfort like a baby duck. I almost tell him that. Instead, I thank him and hang up and lie there staring atthose ugly curtains for another ten minutes while my heart does complicated things in my chest.
I go to the office first because I enjoy pretending I'm a functional adult. The drive takes me through Pine Hollow's main street, past the bakery that always smells like cinnamon even from outside, past the hardware store with the crooked sign that says "Pine Hardware" in faded red letters. The mountains loom around the town like protective walls, their peaks dusted with early snow that catches the morning light and turns it sharp and white and almost painful to look at.
The air is cold enough that I can see my breath when I get out of the car. My coat is not warm enough for this. It's a nice coat, but it was purchased for city winters where you walk from heated building to heated car to heated building. Mountain winters are a different beast entirely.
I push through the door to our office, and the warmth hits me like a wall. Jessica hands me a coffee like she's preparing me for a battle, and the mug is warm against my cold fingers.
I pull up my email and stare at the sixty-three unread messages like they're a personal attack. This lasts six minutes before I check my phone again like a lovesick teenager powering a data plan by sheer neediness. The screen lights up with nothing. No messages. Just the time staring back at me like it knows exactly what I'm doing.
"You going over there tonight?" Jessica asks.
I take a slow, measured breath and pretend I'm not already thinking about which sweater is the softest one I own. The blue one, probably. Or maybe the gray one with the cowl neck. "Maybe."
"Uh-huh."
She doesn't say anything else and I hate her a little for being right. I turn back to my laptop and respond to the table linen email with what I hope is professional efficiency.
The rest of the workday crawls by in a blur of spreadsheets and vendor emails. I eat a sandwich at my desk that tastes like cardboard and regret. The turkey is dry and the lettuce is wilted and I'm pretty sure the mustard is three days past its prime, but I eat it anyway because the alternative is going out into the cold again.
Jessica brings me another coffee around three and doesn't say a word, but her smile says plenty. It's the kind of smile that says "I know what you're doing and I support you but I'm also going to tease you about it later." I accept the coffee with as much dignity as I can muster.
My phone buzzes. I grab it so fast I nearly knock over my coffee.
It's Pine. "Door's unlocked if you want to come straight over after work."
