But it's his presence that hits me like a freight train carrying all my worst decisions. Still has that intensity that made me feel protected and desired and completely in over my head. Still carries himself like a man who's used to being in control, who notices everything and definitely noticed that my scent just betrayed exactly how much seeing him again affects me.
Perfect. Just perfect.
All three of them. In Emma's kitchen. Looking exactly like men who've been arguing about responsibilities and trust and the ways they keep disappointing each other.
My body's response is immediate and mortifying. Heat pools low in my belly, omega instincts recognizing their combined scents like coming home after a long journey. My vanilla bourbon scent sharpens with arousal I can't hide, filling the kitchen with the kind of biological honesty that makes everyone uncomfortable.
Eight years hasn't been long enough to forget how much you wanted them.
The silence stretches until it becomes unbearable. I'm still pressed against the counter, gripping the granite edge like it's the only thing keeping me upright. Logan hovers near the coffee pot, storm-gray eyes darting between his pack mates. Griff stands in the middle of the kitchen, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders rigid with tension. Xavier positions himself near the doorway, spine straight, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
Emma moves around the island, opening cabinets and rearranging things that don't need rearranging. Her nervous energy fills the space like static electricity.
"Does anyone want coffee?" she asks, her voice pitched too high. "I just made a fresh pot."
Dax steps closer to his fiancée, sliding an arm around her waist. He looks at me with genuine warmth. "Glad you came, Savannah. Did you have a good journey?"
I push off from the counter and cross my arms, the movement making my vanilla bourbon scent spike with irritation. Logan's nostrils flare in response.
"Well," I let my voice drip with false sweetness, "considering I stood at that bus station for thirty minutes yesterday and I hadn't been back to this charming town in eight years, I was expecting a slightly better welcome than being abandoned."
Xavier shifts his weight from one foot to the other, adjusting his glasses. Guilt radiates from his mint scent. "That was my fault. I trusted Griffin to handle the pickup."
Griff spins around to face him, sandy hair catching the morning light. "Stop calling me that."
Logan abandons the coffee pot and moves toward the center of the kitchen, his jaw clenched tight. "Griff, all you had to do was call Emma. Tell her you couldn't make it. Basic human courtesy."
Griff starts pacing, three steps toward the window, pivot, three steps back. His sandalwood scent sharpens with defensiveness. "I forgot, okay? Someone’s life was in danger, and I forgot."
"Charming," I drawl, watching him wear a path in Emma's tiles. My chest tightens with familiar frustration. Some things never change.
Griff stops mid-pace and faces me, brown eyes flashing. "It's not like I did it on purpose.”
Logan takes another step forward, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "No, but you planned to leave someone stranded without a backup plan. Again."
"It was one time! How many times must I apologize!" Griff throws his hands up, nearly knocking over a ceramic fruit bowl on the counter.
"I don't remember you apologizing to me!" I snap. It should have been the first thing he did when he saw me, but he was too busy being defensive.
"It was yesterday," Xavier says coolly, straightening to his full height. His clinical voice cuts through Griff's protests like ice. "And it represents a pattern we've discussed multiple times."
Griff whirls to face him, his pacing becoming more agitated. "Oh, here we go. Dr. Xavier's talking about my commitment issues."
I can’t believe they ignored apologizing to me.
“Your commitment issues don't need analyzing," Logan retorts, moving to lean against the opposite counter. "They analyze themselves."
"That's rich coming from you.”
Logan pushes off the counter, his storm-gray eyes narrowing. "At least I show up when I say I will."
“Do you want a fucking medal? Or a kiss on the cheek for it?” Griff gestures wildly, nearly knocking over Emma's coffee maker.
Xavier pinches the bridge of his nose, his mint scent carrying the sharp edge of a developing headache. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. You two need to stop acting like fucking children.”
"Maybe, because you keep treating us like ones that you’ve decided to bring home from the ward,” Griff shoots back.
It hits home. Griff is the laid-back one of the three, but he's not acting like that at all. He's defensive and looks as if he's about to fight two men at a bar, not two alphas that he's in a pack with. All of this feels wrong.
