Knot Today: Hiddenverse, page 23
But if we cross that line again—if I let myself fall back into his arms—it won’t be a one-night stand anymore. It hasn’t been since I invited him into my bed and he stripped off my clothes, while I offered him more than just my body, even if I pretended that’s all it was.
He cooked me breakfast the next morning. Kissed my temple. Teased and flirted with me. And maybe I’m ready to stop pretending. Maybe I’m ready to move on from what Landon did to me—from everything I thought we could be.
Maybe Carson is right here, right now, and exactly what I need.
As we finish our ice cream, Carson tosses our napkins onto the empty tray, rising from the booth with an easy stretch that makes his shirt ride up just enough to flash a strip of toned skin. I follow him out, the warm night air brushing against my flushed cheeks as the door swings shut behind us.
It’s quieter than I expected outside. The street’s mostly empty except for a few couples and the distant hum of traffic. I shift my purse higher on my shoulder, still feeling the echo of Carson’s words in my pulse.
“See?” he says, bumping my arm with his lightly. “Ice cream solves everything.”
I almost smile. Almost.
Then I feel it. That prickling awareness. The undeniable sensation of eyes on me. My steps slow. I turn my head, and my breath catches. Across the street, half-hidden in the shadows between two buildings, is Finn.
He’s leaning against the brick, arms crossed, appearing as if he has all the time in the world. His dark eyes are locked on me, unapologetic. Unblinking. I’m pretty sure he’s been standing there this whole time, watching me from the moment I stepped out of the shop. Or maybe the whole time we were inside, too.
Carson shifts beside me, his easy charm giving way to stillness. He sees him too. Finn doesn’t move. Doesn’t smile. But the look in his eyes speaks volumes.
He wants to check on me. Wants me to cross the street. Wants me to choose him. And somehow...I know Carson sees it too.
I glance at Carson, uncertain.
He arches a brow, then tilts his head slightly. “You want to go to him, don’t you?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t know.”
But I do. Because Carson said he’d help me. He said if I wanted to see Finn, we’d do it his way. Safe. Controlled.
It’s my choice.
I take one step toward the crosswalk, pulse hammering. Carson doesn’t stop me. He follows. And across the street, Finn straightens—surprised. His gaze flicks to Carson beside me, then back to me, curiosity sparking in those shadowy depths.
Because I’m coming to him. With my bodyguard in tow. And he doesn’t know what the hell that means. But I do.
I’m the one holding the leash.
For now.
CHAPTER 46
Finn
She’s walking toward me.
Willow.
Hair soft from a shower, cheeks pink from ice cream, and that mouth…God, that mouth is still slick from the cone she was so innocently licking inside that shop, as if she didn’t know she was killing me with every flick of her tongue.
My pulse ticks higher with every step she takes. Carson's trailing behind her, shoulders tense, expression unreadable, but I only have eyes for her.
My little fire.
She’s coming to me.
She chose to cross the street, to come to me with that wild look still glowing in her eyes. And I feel it, that invisible connection to her tightening, pulling her closer, bringing her exactly where she’s supposed to be.
Where she wants to be.
I take a step forward.
Then another.
I reach for her—fingers outstretched, hungry for her skin, the silk of her wrist, the place just beneath her jaw that I kissed yesterday.
But I never make it.
Because he steps in.
Carson slides between us, a fucking wall, all taut muscle and glinting warning. His arm presses across her body instinctively, holding her back a step, protective in a way that’s not just duty, it’s personal.
His voice is quiet. “No touching.”
Willow hesitates, lips parting, about to say something, but she doesn’t.
She listens.
She listens to him.
She takes a single step back.
And it guts me.
My fingers twitch at my sides, jaw ticking as I force myself to look away from her and meet his eyes.
Still smug. Still reckless. Still too pretty to be this in control. I remember the way I shoved him in the locker room. The way his mouth claimed mine instead of pushing me back.
The way it lit something under my skin, something hot and desperate and dangerous. My gaze drops to his mouth now, and for just a second, I want to shove him again.
Harder.
I want to make him snap. Because he will break. And when he does, I’ll be right there, between him and Willow. Right where I belong.
I tilt my head, smirking just enough to needle him. “You sure you’re the one who should be telling people not to touch?”
His jaw flexes, nostrils flaring. Good. I take one more step forward, deliberately brushing too close. Willow sucks in a breath, her scent ghosting toward me on the night air. Peaches and cream and longing.
I could reach her in two strides. I could have her in my arms in one breath.
But I don’t.
Not yet.
Because this game is just getting started.
“Did you follow us?” Willow asks, her voice calm. Curious. Not afraid. Never afraid of me.
I turn my attention back to her, devouring every inch of her up close. The way her mouth glistens from the last of her ice cream, her cheeks flushed from the cool night air—or maybe from me. My fingers itch for my camera, the one I had to leave behind when Carson yanked her out of the apartment as though there was a damn fire. I didn’t have time to grab anything. Just sprinted down the stairs and melted into the street crowd fast enough to follow.
I watched through the window, watched Carson charm her out of her sadness with soft touches and sweet looks, and that cocky smile he wears.
I also watched her other bodyguard kiss her—Graham. Press her up against the kitchen counter, devouring her as though he was starving for her. And then send her away.
Stupid alpha.
The way her shoulders curled in on themselves afterward, hurt and broken. That wasn’t okay. That made me want to pay him a visit.
Alphas who touch what they don’t intend to keep deserve consequences. Lessons. And I’m a very good teacher.
My fingers curl into fists at the thought, the phantom sensation of her skin under my hands already lighting up my nerves.
“Of course he did,” Carson cuts in, stepping forward just enough to put his body between mine and hers again. “That’s the definition of a stalker, peaches.”
Peaches.
That nickname again. So smug on his tongue. So intimate. My gaze flicks toward him, and I know he feels the shift. The way tension slithers into the air between us, coiling tight.
I lift my chin just enough to meet his eyes, unbothered. Daring.
“Funny,” I murmur pleasantly. “You didn’t mind when you found me in the locker room, Carson.”
His eyes darken. His jaw tightens. Willow shifts behind him, sensing it.
I wonder if she feels it too, that crackling current between Carson and me, the hunger that isn't just about her. It's all tied together now. All of us. But I keep my eyes on the alpha blocking my path.
I’m not going to touch her. Not yet.
But I will get closer.
“Carson, you promised,” Willow says.
Carson glances at her, his jaw tight, shoulders coiled, one second from dragging her away. But then he exhales. Slow. Controlled. And with visible reluctance, he steps aside.
Lets her come to me.
My little fire doesn’t hesitate. She steps forward, chin tilted up, and my chest tightens with something sweet. There’s no mistaking it—her scent wraps around me, silk and heat. Peaches and cream, laced with tension and something that smells a hell of a lot like want. It has to be pouring from her for me to smell her so clearly. I might not be able to pick up the softer notes, but the ability to pick up on the alpha musks in my life before saved me more times than I can count. It heightened my senses, and right now I’m so glad for all of that, if only to smell her.
The city noise fades into the background, and I see only her.
“I read your file,” she says, soft but clear.
The words hit hard. I don’t flinch, but everything inside me locks up.
My file.
A clinical breakdown of everything they think I am—unstable, obsessive, too dangerous to ignore, too broken to trust. A killer.
I lick my lips, force my gaze to hold hers even as something inside me twists. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she repeats.
There’s no fear in her voice. No pity, either. Just truth. And fuck me, it undoes something in my chest.
I want to look away. Want to scoff and brush it off, act as though I don’t care.
But she read my file—the one that paints me as a monster. And she’s still standing here. Her expression unchanged, pretending the file isn’t right.
Her scent thickens. Desire and confusion tangled so tightly together that I can taste it on the back of my tongue. Carson’s watching from just a step away, but he’s not moving. Not yet.
“You know that file…” I say quietly, “It’s not the whole truth.”
“I know,” she whispers.
Two simple words. And they fucking gut me. No one’s ever said that to me before.
Not once.
The streetlights hum. A breeze lifts the ends of her hair, and I breathe her in because it’s the only thing keeping me alive. I take a step closer—close enough to brush my fingers against hers if I wanted to.
“I’d never hurt you, Willow.”
Her lips part, and her breath catches just enough to make my pulse spike.
I don’t touch her. But if she reaches for me? I’ll burn the world down to make sure no one ever takes her from me again.
“I know.”
Those two words again.
Soft. Unflinching. Certain.
She knows.
The corners of my mouth pull up, a smile threatening to take over. But I hold it back. We’re not done. Not yet. She knows the file, but not the why.
“I was left in the dark so long…” I swallow, eyes flicking away for just a second, needing space to breathe. “I forgot what the sun felt like.”
The weight of those words drags across my ribs, pressing down the chains that never really came off. I feel them even now. Cold. Heavy. Familiar.
“I did what I had to do to survive.”
It’s the closest I’ve ever come to explaining—to anyone. The barest truth, scraped raw and trembling between us. She doesn’t flinch.
Instead, she tilts her head, her gaze steady as she watches me.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less. And I guess I’ll have to burn bright enough for both of us.”
My throat tightens, something sharp and hot behind my ribs.
Fuck.
“Little fire,” I breathe.
My hands curl into fists at my sides. The need to touch her is overwhelming—my fingers ache with it—but I don’t. Not with Carson a step away, watching, waiting, a silent wall between what I want and what I can’t have.
If I reach for her now, he’ll pull her back.
So I don’t move.
I just look at her.
Memorize her.
Let her words brand themselves across the broken, hidden parts of me.
Because if she really means it—if she burns for me the way I burn for her—then it’s already too late for all of them.
She’s mine.
And I’ll never let her go.
CHAPTER 47
Carson
I should not be finding one damn redeeming thing about this psychopath.
But here I am, standing on a Manhattan sidewalk, watching a guy I’ve threatened, pinned, and wanted to punch more times than I can count…and all I can think is—
Fuck.
There’s something about the way he looks at her. Like she’s holy. Untouchable. Like he’d crawl through glass and hellfire just to be near her.
And she lets him.
Willow isn’t flinching. Isn’t guarding herself. Her whole posture is open, giving him space to speak, to breathe, to be something other than the monster we’ve painted him as.
I want to shove him into traffic.
But not because I think she’s in danger.
Because there’s a part of me—a quiet, uncomfortable part—that gets it.
He’s unhinged. But not wrong. Not about her. Not about needing her. I can see it now. I should know. I’m living it.
They don’t touch, and somehow it’s worse. Because shit got emotional in the middle of a New York City sidewalk—deep and raw and real. There’s no hiding from it. No pretending that this thing between them is anything less than soul-level.
And it makes something ugly twist in my chest. Because I get it, I feel it too.
I wonder, for one stupid second, if I would’ve made the same choices he did—if I’d been locked away, forgotten, and erased.
If Graham hadn’t found me. Saved me. Given me a way out. Sure, I still have some emotional damage and drop back into my sarcasm when tension rises, but it’s all protection. But without Graham, maybe I would have turned out different.
Would I be like Finn?
Would I be worse?
He says nothing now, just stands there staring at her as though she’s gravity and he’s been weightless for too long. And if she turns away, he’ll start to float again—untethered. Alone.
And I can’t help but think…he might be right.
Because Willow? She has this power. She sees people in ways they don’t expect. In ways they need. There’s something about her that draws you in, captures your heart, and holds you hostage.
I clear my throat, needing to break the spell before it pulls me in too. “We should go.”
My voice is more gravel than sound, rougher than I meant it to be. She flinches slightly—forgetting I’m here—which stings, if I’m being honest. But then she turns to look at me, those wide eyes searching, uncertain.
“Okay,” she says softly.
No fight. No sass. Just…quiet agreement.
And that makes me itch even more.
Finn doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. But his eyes flick to mine, and there’s no challenge there. Not this time.
Only…acceptance.
He knows he won’t win this round, and he’s letting her go because he cares. And he knows she will be back. I step toward her, resting my hand lightly on the small of her back, not because I have to guide her. But because I need to touch her. To remind both of us that she’s still here. With me.
As we walk away, her steps slow for half a second. I don’t ask why.
I already know. She’s thinking about turning back to him. About breaking my rules.
My fingers flex against her lower back, but I don’t say a word to stop her—not if that’s what she decides. My heart pounds as I wait, silent, giving her space to choose.
Then she looks over her shoulder, her gaze lingering. One second. Two. A breath caught in time.
“I’ll see you soon,” she says.
It’s a promise. Soft. Certain.
And I know I’ll help her keep it. Because I’ve already dug myself too deep. I’m not sure there’s a way out of this that doesn’t end with us pulling Finn Reed into our pack.
If we want to keep her? We might have to keep him, too.
She’s quiet as we walk.
I don’t push.
I just keep my hand at the small of her back, steering her through the scattered crowd. The city’s always loud, but the space between us feels hushed.
Willow finally glances up at me, one brow arched. “You’re not going to lecture me? About acknowledging him? Going to him?”
I smirk. “Should I?”
“Maybe,” she says, eyes sparkling up at me and her mouth tilting into a smirk of her own. “You’re good at being bossy, remember?”
“Yeah,” I chuckle, “but tonight you followed the rules.”
She gives me a look—dry and full of sarcasm. “Barely.”
I hum. “Close enough. I was with you. It was in public. So controlled and safe-ish.”
We walk a few more paces in silence, our steps syncing naturally. Her shoulder brushes mine, and I feel it everywhere.
“You did good,” I say eventually, surprising even myself. “Back there with him. I don’t think he gets a lot of kindness.”
Her head tilts toward me. “That almost sounds like approval.”
I shrug. “Don’t get used to it.”
She grins at that, looking away to hide how much it matters.
“Peaches?”
She hums in response, not looking back at me.
I inhale. Screw it. Say the quiet part out loud, Carson.
“I’m falling for you. Full-on, head-first in love.”
She freezes mid-step. Turns to face me fully. “What?”
I scratch the back of my neck, suddenly restless, my heart hammering. “You heard me.”
She doesn’t speak, so I keep going. “My pack—we all are. Falling for you.”
Her lips part, just slightly. Her perfume shifts in the air between us, soft and sweet and vulnerable.
“And I know,” I add, voice softer now, “I know that you’ve been hurt, by Landon…that you’re still healing. And I know how you look at Finn. That it’s more than what any of us expected. I see it. And I don’t blame you.”
Willow swallows, her throat working. “Carson…”
“I’m not saying it to make you feel guilty,” I say quickly, stepping closer. “Or to get a response, I just needed to say it out loud. Because this thing—whatever it is between you and me—it’s not just lust. Not anymore. And most of the time I hide from emotion, but I don’t want to do that with you.”
Her lashes flutter, and when she finally meets my gaze, I see the war behind her eyes.
He cooked me breakfast the next morning. Kissed my temple. Teased and flirted with me. And maybe I’m ready to stop pretending. Maybe I’m ready to move on from what Landon did to me—from everything I thought we could be.
Maybe Carson is right here, right now, and exactly what I need.
As we finish our ice cream, Carson tosses our napkins onto the empty tray, rising from the booth with an easy stretch that makes his shirt ride up just enough to flash a strip of toned skin. I follow him out, the warm night air brushing against my flushed cheeks as the door swings shut behind us.
It’s quieter than I expected outside. The street’s mostly empty except for a few couples and the distant hum of traffic. I shift my purse higher on my shoulder, still feeling the echo of Carson’s words in my pulse.
“See?” he says, bumping my arm with his lightly. “Ice cream solves everything.”
I almost smile. Almost.
Then I feel it. That prickling awareness. The undeniable sensation of eyes on me. My steps slow. I turn my head, and my breath catches. Across the street, half-hidden in the shadows between two buildings, is Finn.
He’s leaning against the brick, arms crossed, appearing as if he has all the time in the world. His dark eyes are locked on me, unapologetic. Unblinking. I’m pretty sure he’s been standing there this whole time, watching me from the moment I stepped out of the shop. Or maybe the whole time we were inside, too.
Carson shifts beside me, his easy charm giving way to stillness. He sees him too. Finn doesn’t move. Doesn’t smile. But the look in his eyes speaks volumes.
He wants to check on me. Wants me to cross the street. Wants me to choose him. And somehow...I know Carson sees it too.
I glance at Carson, uncertain.
He arches a brow, then tilts his head slightly. “You want to go to him, don’t you?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t know.”
But I do. Because Carson said he’d help me. He said if I wanted to see Finn, we’d do it his way. Safe. Controlled.
It’s my choice.
I take one step toward the crosswalk, pulse hammering. Carson doesn’t stop me. He follows. And across the street, Finn straightens—surprised. His gaze flicks to Carson beside me, then back to me, curiosity sparking in those shadowy depths.
Because I’m coming to him. With my bodyguard in tow. And he doesn’t know what the hell that means. But I do.
I’m the one holding the leash.
For now.
CHAPTER 46
Finn
She’s walking toward me.
Willow.
Hair soft from a shower, cheeks pink from ice cream, and that mouth…God, that mouth is still slick from the cone she was so innocently licking inside that shop, as if she didn’t know she was killing me with every flick of her tongue.
My pulse ticks higher with every step she takes. Carson's trailing behind her, shoulders tense, expression unreadable, but I only have eyes for her.
My little fire.
She’s coming to me.
She chose to cross the street, to come to me with that wild look still glowing in her eyes. And I feel it, that invisible connection to her tightening, pulling her closer, bringing her exactly where she’s supposed to be.
Where she wants to be.
I take a step forward.
Then another.
I reach for her—fingers outstretched, hungry for her skin, the silk of her wrist, the place just beneath her jaw that I kissed yesterday.
But I never make it.
Because he steps in.
Carson slides between us, a fucking wall, all taut muscle and glinting warning. His arm presses across her body instinctively, holding her back a step, protective in a way that’s not just duty, it’s personal.
His voice is quiet. “No touching.”
Willow hesitates, lips parting, about to say something, but she doesn’t.
She listens.
She listens to him.
She takes a single step back.
And it guts me.
My fingers twitch at my sides, jaw ticking as I force myself to look away from her and meet his eyes.
Still smug. Still reckless. Still too pretty to be this in control. I remember the way I shoved him in the locker room. The way his mouth claimed mine instead of pushing me back.
The way it lit something under my skin, something hot and desperate and dangerous. My gaze drops to his mouth now, and for just a second, I want to shove him again.
Harder.
I want to make him snap. Because he will break. And when he does, I’ll be right there, between him and Willow. Right where I belong.
I tilt my head, smirking just enough to needle him. “You sure you’re the one who should be telling people not to touch?”
His jaw flexes, nostrils flaring. Good. I take one more step forward, deliberately brushing too close. Willow sucks in a breath, her scent ghosting toward me on the night air. Peaches and cream and longing.
I could reach her in two strides. I could have her in my arms in one breath.
But I don’t.
Not yet.
Because this game is just getting started.
“Did you follow us?” Willow asks, her voice calm. Curious. Not afraid. Never afraid of me.
I turn my attention back to her, devouring every inch of her up close. The way her mouth glistens from the last of her ice cream, her cheeks flushed from the cool night air—or maybe from me. My fingers itch for my camera, the one I had to leave behind when Carson yanked her out of the apartment as though there was a damn fire. I didn’t have time to grab anything. Just sprinted down the stairs and melted into the street crowd fast enough to follow.
I watched through the window, watched Carson charm her out of her sadness with soft touches and sweet looks, and that cocky smile he wears.
I also watched her other bodyguard kiss her—Graham. Press her up against the kitchen counter, devouring her as though he was starving for her. And then send her away.
Stupid alpha.
The way her shoulders curled in on themselves afterward, hurt and broken. That wasn’t okay. That made me want to pay him a visit.
Alphas who touch what they don’t intend to keep deserve consequences. Lessons. And I’m a very good teacher.
My fingers curl into fists at the thought, the phantom sensation of her skin under my hands already lighting up my nerves.
“Of course he did,” Carson cuts in, stepping forward just enough to put his body between mine and hers again. “That’s the definition of a stalker, peaches.”
Peaches.
That nickname again. So smug on his tongue. So intimate. My gaze flicks toward him, and I know he feels the shift. The way tension slithers into the air between us, coiling tight.
I lift my chin just enough to meet his eyes, unbothered. Daring.
“Funny,” I murmur pleasantly. “You didn’t mind when you found me in the locker room, Carson.”
His eyes darken. His jaw tightens. Willow shifts behind him, sensing it.
I wonder if she feels it too, that crackling current between Carson and me, the hunger that isn't just about her. It's all tied together now. All of us. But I keep my eyes on the alpha blocking my path.
I’m not going to touch her. Not yet.
But I will get closer.
“Carson, you promised,” Willow says.
Carson glances at her, his jaw tight, shoulders coiled, one second from dragging her away. But then he exhales. Slow. Controlled. And with visible reluctance, he steps aside.
Lets her come to me.
My little fire doesn’t hesitate. She steps forward, chin tilted up, and my chest tightens with something sweet. There’s no mistaking it—her scent wraps around me, silk and heat. Peaches and cream, laced with tension and something that smells a hell of a lot like want. It has to be pouring from her for me to smell her so clearly. I might not be able to pick up the softer notes, but the ability to pick up on the alpha musks in my life before saved me more times than I can count. It heightened my senses, and right now I’m so glad for all of that, if only to smell her.
The city noise fades into the background, and I see only her.
“I read your file,” she says, soft but clear.
The words hit hard. I don’t flinch, but everything inside me locks up.
My file.
A clinical breakdown of everything they think I am—unstable, obsessive, too dangerous to ignore, too broken to trust. A killer.
I lick my lips, force my gaze to hold hers even as something inside me twists. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she repeats.
There’s no fear in her voice. No pity, either. Just truth. And fuck me, it undoes something in my chest.
I want to look away. Want to scoff and brush it off, act as though I don’t care.
But she read my file—the one that paints me as a monster. And she’s still standing here. Her expression unchanged, pretending the file isn’t right.
Her scent thickens. Desire and confusion tangled so tightly together that I can taste it on the back of my tongue. Carson’s watching from just a step away, but he’s not moving. Not yet.
“You know that file…” I say quietly, “It’s not the whole truth.”
“I know,” she whispers.
Two simple words. And they fucking gut me. No one’s ever said that to me before.
Not once.
The streetlights hum. A breeze lifts the ends of her hair, and I breathe her in because it’s the only thing keeping me alive. I take a step closer—close enough to brush my fingers against hers if I wanted to.
“I’d never hurt you, Willow.”
Her lips part, and her breath catches just enough to make my pulse spike.
I don’t touch her. But if she reaches for me? I’ll burn the world down to make sure no one ever takes her from me again.
“I know.”
Those two words again.
Soft. Unflinching. Certain.
She knows.
The corners of my mouth pull up, a smile threatening to take over. But I hold it back. We’re not done. Not yet. She knows the file, but not the why.
“I was left in the dark so long…” I swallow, eyes flicking away for just a second, needing space to breathe. “I forgot what the sun felt like.”
The weight of those words drags across my ribs, pressing down the chains that never really came off. I feel them even now. Cold. Heavy. Familiar.
“I did what I had to do to survive.”
It’s the closest I’ve ever come to explaining—to anyone. The barest truth, scraped raw and trembling between us. She doesn’t flinch.
Instead, she tilts her head, her gaze steady as she watches me.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less. And I guess I’ll have to burn bright enough for both of us.”
My throat tightens, something sharp and hot behind my ribs.
Fuck.
“Little fire,” I breathe.
My hands curl into fists at my sides. The need to touch her is overwhelming—my fingers ache with it—but I don’t. Not with Carson a step away, watching, waiting, a silent wall between what I want and what I can’t have.
If I reach for her now, he’ll pull her back.
So I don’t move.
I just look at her.
Memorize her.
Let her words brand themselves across the broken, hidden parts of me.
Because if she really means it—if she burns for me the way I burn for her—then it’s already too late for all of them.
She’s mine.
And I’ll never let her go.
CHAPTER 47
Carson
I should not be finding one damn redeeming thing about this psychopath.
But here I am, standing on a Manhattan sidewalk, watching a guy I’ve threatened, pinned, and wanted to punch more times than I can count…and all I can think is—
Fuck.
There’s something about the way he looks at her. Like she’s holy. Untouchable. Like he’d crawl through glass and hellfire just to be near her.
And she lets him.
Willow isn’t flinching. Isn’t guarding herself. Her whole posture is open, giving him space to speak, to breathe, to be something other than the monster we’ve painted him as.
I want to shove him into traffic.
But not because I think she’s in danger.
Because there’s a part of me—a quiet, uncomfortable part—that gets it.
He’s unhinged. But not wrong. Not about her. Not about needing her. I can see it now. I should know. I’m living it.
They don’t touch, and somehow it’s worse. Because shit got emotional in the middle of a New York City sidewalk—deep and raw and real. There’s no hiding from it. No pretending that this thing between them is anything less than soul-level.
And it makes something ugly twist in my chest. Because I get it, I feel it too.
I wonder, for one stupid second, if I would’ve made the same choices he did—if I’d been locked away, forgotten, and erased.
If Graham hadn’t found me. Saved me. Given me a way out. Sure, I still have some emotional damage and drop back into my sarcasm when tension rises, but it’s all protection. But without Graham, maybe I would have turned out different.
Would I be like Finn?
Would I be worse?
He says nothing now, just stands there staring at her as though she’s gravity and he’s been weightless for too long. And if she turns away, he’ll start to float again—untethered. Alone.
And I can’t help but think…he might be right.
Because Willow? She has this power. She sees people in ways they don’t expect. In ways they need. There’s something about her that draws you in, captures your heart, and holds you hostage.
I clear my throat, needing to break the spell before it pulls me in too. “We should go.”
My voice is more gravel than sound, rougher than I meant it to be. She flinches slightly—forgetting I’m here—which stings, if I’m being honest. But then she turns to look at me, those wide eyes searching, uncertain.
“Okay,” she says softly.
No fight. No sass. Just…quiet agreement.
And that makes me itch even more.
Finn doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. But his eyes flick to mine, and there’s no challenge there. Not this time.
Only…acceptance.
He knows he won’t win this round, and he’s letting her go because he cares. And he knows she will be back. I step toward her, resting my hand lightly on the small of her back, not because I have to guide her. But because I need to touch her. To remind both of us that she’s still here. With me.
As we walk away, her steps slow for half a second. I don’t ask why.
I already know. She’s thinking about turning back to him. About breaking my rules.
My fingers flex against her lower back, but I don’t say a word to stop her—not if that’s what she decides. My heart pounds as I wait, silent, giving her space to choose.
Then she looks over her shoulder, her gaze lingering. One second. Two. A breath caught in time.
“I’ll see you soon,” she says.
It’s a promise. Soft. Certain.
And I know I’ll help her keep it. Because I’ve already dug myself too deep. I’m not sure there’s a way out of this that doesn’t end with us pulling Finn Reed into our pack.
If we want to keep her? We might have to keep him, too.
She’s quiet as we walk.
I don’t push.
I just keep my hand at the small of her back, steering her through the scattered crowd. The city’s always loud, but the space between us feels hushed.
Willow finally glances up at me, one brow arched. “You’re not going to lecture me? About acknowledging him? Going to him?”
I smirk. “Should I?”
“Maybe,” she says, eyes sparkling up at me and her mouth tilting into a smirk of her own. “You’re good at being bossy, remember?”
“Yeah,” I chuckle, “but tonight you followed the rules.”
She gives me a look—dry and full of sarcasm. “Barely.”
I hum. “Close enough. I was with you. It was in public. So controlled and safe-ish.”
We walk a few more paces in silence, our steps syncing naturally. Her shoulder brushes mine, and I feel it everywhere.
“You did good,” I say eventually, surprising even myself. “Back there with him. I don’t think he gets a lot of kindness.”
Her head tilts toward me. “That almost sounds like approval.”
I shrug. “Don’t get used to it.”
She grins at that, looking away to hide how much it matters.
“Peaches?”
She hums in response, not looking back at me.
I inhale. Screw it. Say the quiet part out loud, Carson.
“I’m falling for you. Full-on, head-first in love.”
She freezes mid-step. Turns to face me fully. “What?”
I scratch the back of my neck, suddenly restless, my heart hammering. “You heard me.”
She doesn’t speak, so I keep going. “My pack—we all are. Falling for you.”
Her lips part, just slightly. Her perfume shifts in the air between us, soft and sweet and vulnerable.
“And I know,” I add, voice softer now, “I know that you’ve been hurt, by Landon…that you’re still healing. And I know how you look at Finn. That it’s more than what any of us expected. I see it. And I don’t blame you.”
Willow swallows, her throat working. “Carson…”
“I’m not saying it to make you feel guilty,” I say quickly, stepping closer. “Or to get a response, I just needed to say it out loud. Because this thing—whatever it is between you and me—it’s not just lust. Not anymore. And most of the time I hide from emotion, but I don’t want to do that with you.”
Her lashes flutter, and when she finally meets my gaze, I see the war behind her eyes.
