Page 46 of Pack Plus One

What do I want? It should be a simple question. I want to open my bakery. I want to prove Eric wrong about me being unable to succeed on my own. I want to finally stop worrying about being packless in a world that values pack bonds above almost everything else.

But do I want these four men? This intense, complicated pack that somehow makes me feel more myself than I’ve felt in years?

“I don’t know,” I admit softly. “This is all happening so fast.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But sometimes fast doesn’t mean wrong.”

“It doesn’t necessarily mean right, either.”

“No,” he concedes. “It doesn’t.”

Another silence stretches between us. Outside, a couple walks past, hand in hand, oblivious to the emotional turmoil happening in the parked car just feet away.

“I’ll walk you up,” Caleb says finally, moving to open his door.

“You don’t have to?—”

“I want to,” he interrupts, his tone brooking no argument.

I sigh, recognizing the stubborn set of his jaw. “Fine.”

The walk to my third-floor apartment is silent, each step feeling heavier than the last. I’m acutely aware of Caleb behind me, his presence both comforting and unsettling at the same time. What’s worse, his dark chocolate is wrapping around me, making it hard to think clearly.

At my door, I fumble with my keys, hyperaware of him standing so close I can feel the heat of his body. The key finally slides home, and I turn to face him.

“Thank you,” I say, not sure what exactly I’m thanking him for. The ride? The revelation? The night before?

“For what?” he asks, as if reading my thoughts.

“I don’t know,” I admit with a small laugh. “Everything? Nothing? I’m still processing.”

His lips quirk in that almost-smile that makes my heart do strange things. “Take your time.”

But as I turn to enter my apartment, his hand catches my wrist, gentle but firm. “Leah.”

I look back at him, caught by the intensity in his voice. “Yes?”

“I meant what I said before. Last night wasn’t just about sex for me. For any of us.”

His sincerity makes my chest tight. “Caleb?—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupts gently. “Just... think about it. About us.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

His hand slides from my wrist to cup my face, his touch surprisingly tender for someone so intimidating. “May I?” he asks, his voice rough.

I know what he’s asking. I should say no. I should step back, close the door, and take the time I need to sort through this whirlwind of emotions.

Instead, I find myself nodding.

His lips meet mine in a kiss that’s nothing like the desperate, hungry ones we shared last night. This is soft, sweet, almost reverent. His thumb brushes my jaw as his mouth moves against mine, conveying without words all the things neither of us is ready to say.

For a moment, I let myself melt into it, my hands coming up to rest lightly on his chest. His heart thunders beneath my palm, strong and steady and reassuringly real.

But then reality crashes back in. This is too much, too fast, too overwhelming. I pull away abruptly, taking a step back.

“I can’t,” I whisper, hating the flash of hurt in his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this right now.”

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