“I know my own body,” she snaps, then winces. “This isn’t heat. It’s not. I’m just… I’m tired. I’m hot and my head hurts. I just need to get out of this car.”
So fucking stubborn.
“You’re scared,” I say, keeping my voice calm as I guide the SUV up the last narrow bend. “And that’s okay. Your body’s confused. Distress and heat don’t mix well.”
She doesn't answer. Just stares out the window with glassy eyes.
“It doesn’t make you weak,” I add.
That gets her attention. She turns, blinking at me like she’s seeing me clearly for the first time all day.
“You’re not weak,” I repeat. “You’ve been running on adrenaline for weeks. Your system’s in freefall. And nowthat we’re almost safe, your body’s doing what it’s been holding off.”
She swallows hard. “But I don’t want this to happen now. My nest isn’t…” Her bottom lip quivers. “I miss home.”
“I know,” I say. “But we’ll get your nest ready, sweetheart. Everything will be perfect.”
When we crest the last ridge, the cabin finally comes into view. It’s hidden behind a large cluster of oak trees, the roof nearly caved in with moss, and the driveway is more gravel and roots than anything else. But it’s there.
Safe and secluded.
I ease the car to a stop, engine ticking. No other vehicles. No signs of life. Only wilderness and sky.
“We’re here,” I say quietly.
Autry doesn’t move.
Charlie wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you inside.”
She barely nods.
Oli’s already jumping out, circling to help open the back door. Myrick grabs two of the smaller bags, while I step up onto the porch. The boards groan and bow under my feet as I unlock the cabin door and push it open.
The air inside is dusty and thick. There’s a fireplace, an open kitchen, a single hallway leading to three small bedrooms, and the furniture looks older than I am. It’s not great—but it’ll do.
Ithasto do.
I turn back in time to see Autry stumbling a little on her way up the porch steps. And for the first time since we left the city, I feel it in my gut.This is it.
It’s been almost two months since I brought Autry home. Two months of waiting for her heat, waiting to properly mate and bond. And it’s finally happening.
But I hate that it’s happeningright now.
Autry deserves more. She deserves the nesting bed we left behind—pillows and blankets so perfectly layered it looked like a cloud. She deserves silk sheets, cooling fans, warm lights, and everything soft and comforting.
But I don’t let myself wallow. Everything else about this place is perfect. The location, the nature, and the safety. We’ll slowly collect the things our omegas need. In the meantime, we’re together, and that’s all that matters.
Myrick steps inside, Dolly clutched tight to his chest like a security blanket. His gaze sweeps over the open space, and I catch the subtle shift in his expression. Disappointment. He tries to hide it, but I’ve known him too long.
“This place is… rustic,” he says, voice a little tight.
I glance at him.
And he smiles—bright, too bright. “I mean, it’s got charm, right?”
I smile and squeeze his shoulder. “Thanks for trying.”
Oli’s already moving, shedding his jacket as he circles the cabin. He throws open every window he passes, muttering under his breath about airflow and mildew.
