Page 73 of Written in Scent

Footsteps echo down the hallway just as I shoulder the bag. Jamie rounds the corner at an easy pace, golden hair catching the low overhead lights, that familiar twinkle already in his eyes.

He’s wearing a simple grey sweater and jeans, nothing special, but the sight of him still makes something inside me loosen and brighten all at once.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says, voice teasing in the exact way that always makes my stomach flutter. “Ready to get out of here before the building locks you in with the pinned bugs for the night?”

I laugh softly and fall into step beside him. “They would be excellent company, actually. Very quiet.”

He bumps my shoulder gently as we walk, the contact brief and familiar. “Yeah, but they don’t make pizza or laugh at my terrible jokes.”

The night air hits us the second we push through the heavy front doors, cool and carrying the faint scent of fall leaves. Jamie’s hand finds the small of my back, guiding me toward the parking lot without making a fuss about it.

His car waits under the nearest streetlamp, and he opens the passenger door for me with a small flourish that somehow still feels sincere.

I slide inside, the leather seat cool beneath my thighs, and watch him circle around to the driver’s side. When he starts the engine, the radio comes on low, some pop song I don’t recognize playing. He pulls out of the lot and turns toward the edge of campus, the glow of the university buildings fading behind us.

The drive to the pack house is cozy in the best way, comfortable silence broken only by Jamie’s occasional easy commentary about his day and the way his fingers tap lightly on the steering wheel in time with the music. I lean my head against the seat and let the warmth of his inviting golden amber scent wrap around me, while the dark road unwinds ahead.

By the time the familiar lights of their house appear through the trees, something inside me has already begun to relax, as if this place has started learning the shape of me too.

I don’t say it out loud. Not yet. But the feeling lingers, undeniable, as Jamie parks and turns off the engine.

Jamie steps out onto the tidy gravel drive, and I climb out beside him, the cool night air brushing my arms.

This is the first time I’ve stood here completely clear headed, no heat haze clouding my thoughts, no drunken fog dulling the edges of everything. The house looks different without the blur of instinct pulling me under.

Golden light spills from the windows, and the wraparound porch glows under string lights that someone must have hung since the last time I was here. I pause for a second on the path, really looking at it, and a weighted question forms in my chest.

Could I actually see myself living here one day? The thought feels too big and too soon, but it doesn’t scare me the way it would have a week ago.

The front door swings open before we even reach the steps. Chase steps out first, broad shoulders filling the frame, followed closely by Adrian. Both of them are wearing aprons dusted with flour, and the smell that drifts out hits me, yeast and melting cheese and something herby that makes my stomach give a happy little flip.

“Perfect timing,” Chase says, his low grumbly voice sounding pleased. “Pizzas are just coming out of the oven.”

Adrian smiles that little smile of his and nods toward the backyard. “We prepped everything inside but baked them in the stone oven out back. Figured we would give you options since we don’t know your favorites yet.”

They lead us through the house and out the back door. The stone oven glows in the yard, flames dancing behind the glass door, and two large pizzas rest on a wooden peel waiting to be carried in. One is loaded with pepperoni and fresh basil, the other piled high with mushrooms, spinach, and crumbled sausage. A third smaller one sits off to the side with just cheese and tomatoes. My heart squeezes at the thought that they made three different kinds just to make sure I would like something.

We carry everything inside and sit around the big wooden table at the far end of the kitchen. I slide into the chair Jamie pulls out for me, and the moment I sit down Alex’s gaze drops to my throat. His pale gray eyes soften instantly.

“You’re wearing the necklace,” he says, his voice hushed with hope or awe.

I reach up and touch the delicate chain, suddenly shy. “I haven’t taken it off since I opened the basket. It’s beautiful. All of the gifts were... I meant to thank you properly the second I saw you. The book, the hoodie, the camera, the pen… everything. It was too much and exactly right all at once. Thank you. Really.”

Jamie grins across the table, dimples flashing. “More are probably coming. It’s kind of a courting thing. Alphas get a little… gift happy when we find our omega. But honestly? We just like picking things out for you. Makes us happy.”

I blink, heat flooding my cheeks. “Does that mean I should be buying things for you too? Is that part of it?”

The four of them exchange a look so perfectly synchronized it’s almost comical. Alex’s eyebrows lift, Chase’s mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile, Adrian pushes his glasses up with one finger, and Jamie actually laughs out loud.

“Absolutely not,” Alex says firmly, though his voice stays gentle. “You are the gift, Elodie. You don’t need to buy us a single thing.”

Chase nods once, decisive. “What he said.”

Adrian reaches over and gives my hand a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Just let us spoil you a little. It makes our alphas settle.”

I laugh and pick up a slice of the mushroom pizza, the crust still hot from the oven.

The conversation flows easily after that, laughter bouncing around the table as Jamie tells a ridiculous story about filming lacrosse practice earlier, and Adrian teases him about the angle he chose. Chase grumbles good naturedly about the amount of cheese Jamie demanded on his half, and Alex watches it all with that calm, gravitational presence that somehow ties the whole room together.