"Still counts."
By the time they've played three games, Sharon's visibly more relaxed. The distraction worked. She's stopped gripping her knees. Her shoulders are loose. She's smiling easier.
"One more?" Pine asks.
"One more. But then I actually need to work. I can’t let Jessica answer all the new clients.”
This final game is faster. Sharon plays aggressively, taking risks she didn't take earlier. Pine matches her energy and the result is exciting even if the outcome is predictable.
Sharon wins again.
"Three out of four," she says. "Not bad for a Sunday afternoon."
"I'm getting better," Pine says. "Eventually I'll beat you."
“Maybe,” Sharon agrees, but her tone says she doesn't believe it.
She moves to the kitchen table with her laptop while Pine cleans up the chess set. I watch her open her wedding planning files and dive into work with the kind of focus that suggests she's grateful for something concrete to think about.
Cassian settles next to her with his own laptop. Pine returns to the couch with a book. I pull out my phone and scroll through social media, seeing photos from yesterday's wedding already circulating with comments about how beautiful everything was.
This is what pack looks like. Not always exciting. Not always dramatic. Sometimes it's just existing in the same space while everyone does their own thing. Chess games and coffee and comfortable silence.
My phone buzzes with another text from Ben.
"Thank you. It means everything. I'm going to make you guys proud. This time is different."
I show the text to Sharon without saying anything.
She reads it and nods slowly.
"I want to believe him," she says.
“We all do,” I say.
We return to the living room where Sharon's deep in her planning, fingers flying across the keyboard. Pine's abandoned his book to watch her work, his expression soft.
This is my pack. This woman who plans weddings and plays chess and hopes even when hoping is scary. These two alphas who love her as much as I do. This house that's become home.
Anytime there’s a problem, we'll handle it together.
That's what pack does.
32
SHARON
The house smells like cinnamon and pine needles and something savory that Cassian is making in the kitchen. I'm curled on the couch with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, watching snow fall outside the window. Fat flakes drift down in the darkness, illuminated by the string lights we hung on the porch last week. Pine Hollow is blanketed in white, quiet and peaceful as the year winds down to its final hours.
New Year's Eve. Our first one together as a complete pack.
Six months ago, I was in Denver, alone in my apartment, pretending I was fine while my entire life fell apart around me. Now I'm here, in this house with three alphas who chose me, planning weddings and building a life I never imagined possible.
"Stop thinking so hard," Jett says, dropping onto the couch next to me. He's wearing sweatpants and a faded band t-shirt, his brown hair still damp from the shower. His cedar and gunpowder scent wraps around me immediately. "I can literally hear your brain working from across the room."
"I'm not thinking hard," I protest. "I'm reflecting. It's different."
"It's the same thing with a fancier name," he says, pulling me against his side. His warmth seeps through the blanket and into my bones. "What are you reflecting on?"
