Page 3 of Final Drive

“You can have a day after nationals.”

The bickering settles something in my chest, because at least it’s normal.

Then Gray’s eyes find mine again. “Reese, can I talk to you for a minute?”

We step into the hallway. The old hardwood creaks under us as he leads me toward the front of the house, and he stops by the window and runs a hand through his hair.

I’ve watched this man take a boat through conditions that should have swamped us and face down his father on a crowded dock without moving a muscle in his face. Right now he looks lost.

“About yesterday. The dock. What my father said.”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I want to.” He meets my eyes. “I meant every word of it. I’m choosing this. Choosing the pack.”

I wait for the rest, for him to close the three feet between us and tell me yesterday wasn’t only about defying Harrison.

He turns back to the window.

“He won’t give up. He’ll go looking for leverage, and if he decides to make our lives difficult, we need to be ready for it.”

“Ready for what?”

“For it to get worse before it gets better.”

I want to reach for him, but he’s standing the way he stands in a boat bay at six in the morning, and the man who knotted me and held me afterward isn’t anywhere in the hallway.

“Tyler says our legal position is stronger if the bonds are complete before we file,” he continues. “Multiple claims demonstrate genuine pack formation rather than a strategic alliance.”

My stomach turns over.

“Makes sense,” I manage.

“So we should figure out the logistics. Timing. Who and when.”

“Sure.”

We stand there three feet apart and neither of us moves.

“We should get back,” he says. “Tyler wants to go over the paperwork.”

He heads for the kitchen. I stay where I am with my palm flat against my chest.

I chose this. I chose them. Yesterday I stood on that dock with lake water running out of my hair and looked my mother in the eye and told her I was home.

So I don’t know why it feels like I’m outside the window looking in at a life that belongs to somebody else.

My phone buzzes again.

Mother: Your father and I would like to meet. Dinner on Wednesday. We can discuss this situation calmly.

And beneath it:

Quinton: No pressure. Just thought you might need a break from all the intensity. I’m good at being low-key

I type back before I can stop myself.

Wednesday might work. I’ll let you know.