“It’s nothing,” he said, too quick. “I’m just…clumsy.”
I didn’t push. My rule, hard-won: never make a wounded animal cornered. But every alpha cell in my body wanted to ask, to fix, to obliterate whatever did that to him.
Instead, I smiled, softer than usual. “If you ever need to talk, or just want to trade clumsiness stories… I’ve got a scar that could probably outdo yours.”
He relaxed half an inch. “Maybe someday.”
I let the moment hang there, then turned and walked out before I could say anything stupid.
In the parking lot, the sky was melting into blue and gold, sunset painting the mountains with all the subtlety of a Vegas showgirl. For a second, I stood with my hands on the tailgate, breathing deep, letting the chill burn through me.
I’d never wanted anyone this fast before. Not even close. And if I was being honest, I’d already started planning how to see him again.
It was a good half hour before Jojo finished shopping, long enough for me to get bored, check my phone three times, and eat an entire sleeve of gas station crackers I found wedged behind the glove box.
He reemerged pushing a cart loaded with tomato flats and a half-dead rosemary bush, looking like a twelve-year-old who’d just won a sweepstakes.
I honked once for effect. Jojo didn’t even jump, just grinned and loaded the plants into the bed of the truck with the care of a bomb squad technician.
“Thanks again for coming,” he called over the tailgate, voice as bright as spring. “I know you’d rather be target shooting.”
I rolled my eyes. “You say that like we’re not gonna go shooting after this.”
That got a laugh. He hopped in the passenger seat, already rearranging the air freshener and checking his phone for memes to show me. I fired up the engine, but my attention drifted back to the hardware store window. I could see Danny behind the counter, head down, punching buttons on the register.
Then the door swung open, and in strode a man who, even from thirty yards, screamed alpha. Broad-shouldered, with the swagger of someone who never questioned if he belonged. He wore a mechanic’s shirt with the sleeves rolled to his biceps, and his walk—no, his whole energy—radiated threat.
Danny saw him, too. The kid flinched, subtle, but unmistakable, shoulders hunching inward. He ducked his head, eyes fixed on the countertop, as if bracing for impact.
The alpha—Dennis, according to his name patch—said something sharp enough to carry through the glass, though I couldn’t make out the words. Danny nodded, quick and silent.
“Who’s that?” Jojo asked, following my gaze.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe he’s Danny’s older brother.”
Jojo frowned. “They look nothing alike.”
“They don’t act alike either,” I said, voice tighter than I wanted. My hands clenched the steering wheel, knuckles blanching. I counted to five, then let it go.
Inside, Dennis leaned over the counter, crowding Danny’s space. Even from here, I could see how Danny’s frame shrank, how he wrapped his arms around himself like a human shield.
I wanted to march in there and throw Dennis through the hydroponics display, but I stayed put. Partly because I didn’t want to cause a scene. Mostly because Danny didn’t need another alpha barging in to “fix” his problems.
That, I got.
“Ready?” I asked Jojo, my voice coming out rougher than intended.
He blinked at me. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just hungry.” A bald-faced lie, but I was out of better ones.
We pulled away from the curb, and I caught one last look at Danny through the glass. For a moment, he looked up, his eyes catching mine from across the parking lot. Then, just as quickly, he looked away.
The drive back to the ranch was quiet. Jojo dozed off by mile six, head lolling against the window, mumbling about companion planting and trellises.
I let my brain idle on that: the steady roll of the tires, the burn of late afternoon sun on my left arm. But under it all, a low-grade fury buzzed in my veins.
I’d seen bruises like that before. Sometimes on the faces of new recruits who didn’t know how to fight back. Sometimes on the wrists of omegas who belonged to nobody and everybody.
