Page 2 of False Catch

“Jackson did what?”

“Sunshine. You’ve been here three days. None of us wants you to leave.”

I know what he means. Not after they all scented me in heat. Not after I shattered and they caught every piece. Not after they figured out how far they’d go to keep me safe.

“I can’t stay here forever.”

“Why not?”

It’s so simple, that question. But the answer isn’t. Because it looks bad. Because I’ll get too comfortable. Because pretending we’re just teammates only works when no one catches us acting like more.

Because I’m starting to like it here. Too much.

“Practice,” I say instead. “We’ll be late.”

Bo doesn’t argue. But he watches me like he knows I’m lying again. “Alright. But Reese?”

“Yeah?”

“Normal was never really an option for us.”

He’s right, and we both know it. But I’m not ready to admit what that means.

The kitchen is a battlefield disguised as breakfast.

Gray stands at the stove, flipping eggs like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. His black hair is still messy from sleep, and there’s tension in every line of his body. When I walk in with Bo, Gray’s eyes snap to mine, sharp and assessing.

“Sleep well?” The question sounds casual, but nothing about Gray is casual anymore. Not since he knotted me during my heat and looked at me like I’d hung the stars.

“Fine.” Another lie. I barely slept, too aware of Bo’s warm bulk on one side of me and the way I could hear Gray moving around in his room next door. Too aware that my suppressants might be working, but my body still remembers theirs.

Zane looks up from where he’s demolishing a stack of pancakes. “Morning, sunshine.”

The nickname makes Bo stiffen beside me, and I catch the way something shifts in Zane’s expression too. Something that remembers the bus ride when everything went to shit, when the team needed to manage my failing suppressants and he volunteered to help. When he knelt between my legs and ate me out like I wasn’t just an omega that needed help. Like I was a woman that he wanted.

Neither of us has mentioned it since. But it’s there in the way his amber eyes linger on my mouth, in the way his scent changes when I’m close. Three days, and they’re already developing territorial reflexes.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, settling into a chair between Tyler and Eli. Safe choices. Tyler glances briefly from his textbook, and Eli just nods at me before returning to his coffee.

“Cameron’s in the shower,” Beckett says from across the table. “Jackson’s probably still asleep.”

“Jackson doesn’t sleep anymore,” Eli mutters.

“Jackson pretends he doesn’t sleep,” Tyler corrects without looking up. “There’s a difference.”

I’m about to ask what he means when Jackson appears in the doorway, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. His dark hair sticks up at odd angles, and there are shadows under his eyes that make my chest tighten. He glances at Eli and there’s a brief flash of something like longing or regret before he wipes it away. I’m not entirely sure of their dynamic, but I’m well aware of the way two people who’ve fucked look at each other when they don’t want anyone else to know.

Then he sees me and stops moving entirely. Just freezes like a deer in headlights, and suddenly the entire kitchen goes quiet with a collectively held breath.

“Jackson.” Gray’s voice carries a warning.

Jackson’s nostrils flare slightly, and I realize he’s scenting the air. Testing to see if my suppressants are still working or if there’s any lingering trace of heat. His eyes meet mine, dark and unreadable, and something passes between us. Some acknowledgment that everything is different now.

“Reese.” His voice is rough, like he hasn’t used it in hours. “You’re... okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He nods once, sharp and decisive, then moves to the coffee pot. But I notice he gives me a wide berth, keeping the kitchen island between us. And I notice how he pours his coffee with shaking hands. Eli watches him, quiet concern written in his posture.