Page 22 of Final Drive

“From what? Us?” Bo shakes his head. “We’re not the enemy, Gray. Your father is. The administration is. That reporter on our dock is.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” Bo leans forward with his forearms on his knees. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve kept a room’s width between you and her since the championship. You carried her up to bed and left. You talk about her like she’s a problem instead of a person you’re in love with.”

Nobody moves.

It’s the first time anybody has used that word in this house, and it hangs there long enough that Beckett finally takes another drink.

“Well, shit. Bo went and said it.”

“Somebody had to.” Bo doesn’t look sorry. “We’ve been walking around it for weeks, calling it biology or convenience or team chemistry. It isn’t.”

“Was it ever?” Eli asks. “Biology, I mean. I don’t think it was. Not for any of us.”

“It wasn’t for me,” I say. “I knew she was different the second she walked into that boathouse. Before we knew she was Omega. Before any of it.”

“Same,” Cameron says.

Tyler nods. “I have notes from before we knew she was Omega.”

Beckett slowly turns his head. “Notes.”

“Observations.”

“Tyler. Buddy. You can just say you thought she was hot.”

“I prefer precise language.”

“Of course you do.”

I lean forward and set my beer between my feet. “Here’s what gets me. We’re sitting here talking about sixty-eight years, and half of us have never even bought her dinner.”

“Speak for yourself,” Cameron says.

“Right. The secret motorcycle dates.”

“They weren’t dates.”

“Did she go somewhere alone with you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you spend time together?”

“Obviously.”

“Did you want to spend time with her?”

Cameron stares at me.

“Congratulations. You dated Reese.”

Beckett points his bottle at him. “Meanwhile, I’ve been turning up to study sessions nobody invited me to and keeping Quinton off her when I can. Apparently I’ve been doing romance wrong.”

Gray’s attention snaps over. “Quinton. Has he tried anything?”

“Nothing you could point at.” Some of Beckett’s easiness disappears. “He’s friendly. Too friendly, maybe. Asks about her schedule, asks about the team. He’s fishing. I just can’t work out what for.”