Clint twists in his seat and shouts. “Hey, Jared, Em says she’s going to spend the vacation reading!”
Jared’s laugh answers, and I endure the good-natured ribbing from my crew. It had taken some time, but they had come around to the idea of the young Alpha and me being together, and now they use him to tease me without mercy, just as they would anyone else on the team with a new relationship.
As Kyle fires up the engine and Jared unties us from the dock, I find my attention drifting back to Leif despite myself. He’s already absorbed in his book, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
My skin still prickles, and I don’t like it.
I know what it means when an Omega unsettles me like this. I’ve learned the cost of mistaking curiosity for connection, of mistaking my instinct to protect for mutual affection. Last time, it hollowed me out from the inside and left me questioning whether I’d ever deserved the pack I built with my own hands.
I won’t go through that pain again.
I have Jared. I have stability. I have a life that works because I’ve been careful with who I let in.
Whatever this is, I can’t get worked up over it.
I turn my attention back to my crew as the water taxi pulls away from the dock, steadying myself in the familiar.
With Jared, I have more than what I could ever have hoped for. No need to rock the boat.
Chapter Two
Leif
“Will my teacher like me?” Quinn asks for the third time in five minutes, her small hands twisting the straps of her backpack, which she’s been wearing all morning.
I set down the packing tape, flinching at the clatter of heavy plastic on the tabletop. Instinct pulls me toward the window before I turn back to her, fingers twitching as I scrape together patience from reserves gutted by a night spent jolting awake at every creak and shadow.
Morning light streams through the cabin windows, illuminating the worry written across Quinn’s face and reminding me to stay present for her, no matter what’s unfolding in my personal life.
“Any teacher will be lucky to have you in their class,” I tell her, despite the exhaustion pulling at my patience. “Remember what we talked about earlier?”
“That I should be myself,” Quinn recites, but her fingers continue their nervous dance along the backpack straps. “But what if I’m not what they want?”
The question hits harder than she knows. I move through the cluttered chaos of Cabin One, stepping around a half-packed box of books markedQuinn’s Room.
“Your teacher will appreciate your curiosity and your kindness. And they’ll love that you always ask interesting questions.”
Quinn bounces from one foot to the other, energy radiating off her small frame. “But what if I ask too many questions? Uncle Blake says I talk a lot. What if the other kids think I’m weird? What if I forget my lunch? Can Sprinkles really stay with me? He helps when I’m scared.”
The rapid-fire questions come without pause for breath, each one laced with an anxiety I recognize all too well. Quinn’s focus bounces around the cabin, landing on her playroom boxes before moving to the window, then to me, seeking anchors in a sea of uncertainty.
Moving back to the Homestead at the same time as Quinn is preparing for her first day of second grade is the worst timing possible. Her safe space is being taken from her at the same time she’s being thrown into grade school, a year after her peers will have already formed friend cliques.
It doesn’t matter that she’s excited to return to her old room, or that she wants friends. Her sense of stability is being disrupted on all sides.
I kneel at her level and place my hands on her shoulders, which tremble beneath my palms.
“Take a breath with me.” I demonstrate a deep inhale, and Quinn mirrors me. “Good. Now out, slowly.”
Her breath shudders as she exhales. Behind her, Sprinkles rises from his spot by the door, sensing the spike in her anxiety. The massive Newfoundland pads over, his nails clicking on the wooden floor. He leans his massive body against Quinn’s side, and some of the tension leaves her slight frame.
“There you go,” I murmur as she sinks her fingers into Sprinkles’s thick black fur. “Now, let’s tackle those questions one at a time. Yes, you can ask questions in class. That’s what school is for. The other kids might have the same questions, but are too nervous to speak up.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Really. And yes, Sprinkles can come to school with you. Your Uncle Blake already spoke to the dean and your teacher about it. But you can’t let him become a disruption to the class. He’ll be there to work, just like you’ll be there to learn.”
Quinn’s hand tightens in Sprinkles’s fur, and the dog leans more of his weight on her. “What about lunch? What if no one wants to sit with me?”