Page 87 of Written in Scent

Chase slips through the side door despite his bulk, his large frame filling the narrow space. I lead him down the hallway quickly, heart still racing as we sneak past the RA’s desk and into my room.

The second the door closes behind us, he sets the bag down and kneels beside my bed without being told. He opens the kit with practiced hands and immediately begins examining Noodle.

His movements are gentle but confident as he checks her gums, listens to her breathing with a stethoscope, and carefully takes her temperature.

I stand there, bewildered. He looks completely at home doing this, like he’s done it a hundred times before. The contrast between the Chase who grumbles and argues and this focused, competent version of him makes my brain stall.

I pull out my phone with shaky fingers and text Jamie.

Why does Chase know exactly what he’s doing?

Jamie’s reply comes through almost immediately, and I can practically hear his surprised laugh through the screen.

Wait… you really didn’t know? This is what he gets for staying so quiet all the time. Ask him what he studies.

I glance up at Chase, who is now gently feeling Noodle’s abdomen. “What’s your degree?” I ask.

Chase doesn’t look up right away. He finishes his examination and starts preparing a small bag of fluids. Only then does he answer, his voice clinical and even.

“Veterinary Medicine. Sophomore. I spend most of my time at the animal clinic on the other side of campus or doing rotations at the wildlife rehab center. I always keep a rescue kit in my truck, in case I get an emergency call out.”

The pieces click together so suddenly it feels like the floor shifts under me. That’s why the guys called him first. That’s why he showed up with a full medical kit and knew exactly what to do.

Chase is training to be a vet.

He works quickly and efficiently, starting the fluids and giving Noodle a dose of medication. Within twenty minutes her breathing has already started to even out and some of the glassy look leaves her eyes.

The relief that washes through me is so strong my knees feel weak.

Chase finally sits back on his heels and strokes Noodle’s side with one big hand. “There you go, Mittens. You’re going to be OK.”

I blink. “Mittens?”

He looks up at me, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah. Mittens. That’s what I’ve been calling her for the past year.”

“But her name is Noodle,” I say, confused. “Sophie and I named her that the first week I moved in.”

Chase lets out a huff of laughter, the sound surprisingly fond. “She was my cat first. Or at least… she was a stray I started feeding last year. She used to come and go from the pack house all the time. I even put in a cat door on the back porch for her. You really never noticed it?”

I shake my head, still trying to process everything. “I had no idea.”

He looks down at Noodle again, his hand still gently stroking her fur. “She completely disappeared this semester. I thought she had found a new home or gotten lost. Turns out she just decided she liked you better.” His mouth curves into a small, rueful smile. “She has good taste.”

The revelation settles over me, sweet and surprising all at once. Chase has been taking care of this cat for over a year, giving her a safe place, a name, and a home. And now she’s chosen me.

I look at him, seeing an entirely new side of the gruff, protective alpha I thought I knew.

Noodle’s breathing finally evens out. She curls a little tighter into the blanket I tucked around her and lets out a sleepy sigh. Relief washes through me so strongly that my knees feel weak.

Chase sits back on his heels and watches her for a long moment, his broad shoulders relaxing just slightly. Then his gaze drifts across the room and lands on the window I keep cracked open for her. The latch is undone, the gap wide enough for a small gray cat to slip through whenever she pleases. His entire body goes still.

The shift in him is subtle but unmistakable. His jaw tightens. His dark eyes narrow. The protective alpha energy that always simmers under his skin flares hot and intense, filling the small dorm room until the air feels thicker.

“You’ve been letting her come and go through an open window?” His voice is low, controlled, but the anger underneath it vibrates like a storm about to break. “In a dorm full of strangers, on the ground floor, with no one watching?”

I blink, caught off guard by how fast the mood has changed. “She needs fresh air and exercise. She hates being locked inside. It’s how she’s always visited us.”

Chase stands, all six foot five of him suddenly seeming to take up every inch of space. “You have been leaving yourself completely vulnerable. Anyone could climb through that window while you’re sleeping. Anyone could reach you. And you have been doing it for weeks because of a cat.”