I grin. “Only in your head?”
“Mostly. I used to work full-time at the marine institute, which meant a lot of long days, grant applications, boat time, and convincing people that coral reefs are more important than whatever nonsense they were emailing me about. Now I do the occasional consult when they need me, go out on the water when I feel like it, as it’s really peaceful out there. I’m also an Omega who has never found her mate. I had a few Alphas along the way, but nothing ever stuck, you know?”
I nod. “Yep, I get that so much.”
She shrugs. “I enjoy the freedom, to be honest.”
“And, Priya?” I ask.
She wipes her hands neatly. “I work too much,” she admits. “That’s the short answer.”
“The long answer,” Clio cuts in, “is that she likes being terrifying.”
“I like being prepared,” Priya says. “There’s a difference.”
“There are many stories,” Malia butts in.
Priya shakes her head. “I’m a Beta who grew up with three brothers, two very dramatic parents, and a family business that somehow made every conversation feel like a hostage negotiation. Being organized became a coping mechanism.”
“That explains a lot,” I state.
“It tells you everything,” Clio replies.
Priya ignores her. “Now I spend my weekdays fixing other people’s disasters in billable increments, and my spare time pretending I’m going to relax before accidentally reorganizing a drawer or reading case law for enjoyment.”
I blink. “For enjoyment?”
She lifts one shoulder.
“You also bake when you’re anxious,” Aura adds.
“Bread,” she says. “Mostly. And cardamom things. My grandmother taught me.” That softens her whole face for a second, just enough to catch.
“Oh, I love that,” I say.
Priya smiles then, smaller and more real. “It’s the only thing I do slowly.”
“You say that like you’re hosting a panel,” Aura says. She’s quieter than Clio, but that doesn’t make her softer. She has a calm, razor-neat way of moving through a room as though she already knows where everything belongs, including people. She told me she got a new job at a little gaming store in town called Purr-a-Dice, all local card and board games place, collector items, and open play nights. She’s an Omega too, like Clio, and for now, they’ve built this life together, having each other’s backs until something more comes along. Though, she did casually mention that she’s thinking about trying one of those Alpha and Omega matching services.
For a second, I think of Chris. Of the way he sounds when he talks about his pack now. His Omega and life in general. That quiet certainty in him, like he found the place he was always meant to land. Family not by blood alone, but by choice and love.
I always thought maybe I, too, would have that one day.
A pack of my own, people who felt like home, but life has a way of taking my neat little plans, laughing in my face, and setting them on fire.
Still, sitting here with this group talking over each other and smiling, I feel a strange ache low in my chest. Not the bad kind, but something quieter.
Something that feels a little too much like wanting.
6
ADELAIDE
Three weeks of van life and I’ve become unbearably smug about how good I am at it.
Not in a rugged survivalist way. I’m not out here whittling spoons or communing with nature. I just know things now, like where to get the best açaí bowl on the island, which is this little place here on the North Shore with no sign, just a man called Paul. The best beach shower is the third one down at Waimea, hot water until seven fifteen and then absolutely not a second longer, so you either commit or suffer. A great parking spot on a Tuesday is on this exact stretch of road, because the officers skip it, and I’ve tested that theory.
The van doors are open, and the view in front of me is so incredibly beautiful that it must be a dream. The water is a ridiculous shade of turquoise, clear enough that I can watch the sand shifting under it from here. White sand, that is, and palm trees are everywhere, the blue sky showing off. The whole island is honestly a bit full of itself, but I respect it.
