Page 15 of Found by the Pack
I nod my thanks, manage a smile, and head back toward the door. As I step outside, the wind lifts my ponytail and the scent of ocean hits me again.
But so does something else.
A memory I can’t shake.
The way Max used to lift me up against walls and call me his storm. The sound of four voices calling my name. The way they once looked at me like Fiona’s husbands look at her.
God, I miss being wanted like that.
But those days? They’re gone.
And I’m not her anymore.
Not the soft-hearted Omega. Not the pack’s sweetheart.
I’m just Sadie Devereaux. Wandering artist. Widow. Survivor.
And maybe—just maybe—ready to remember who the hell I was before I lost everything.
Idrive past the fire station without even slowing down.
It’s the first location on the mural list—the one Mayor Marshall highlighted with a star and bolded in red like it’s supposed to be my magnum opus.
But no. Not today.
The sight of the red truck parked outside is enough to send a bolt of panic through my spine. It’s not even the same model Max drove. This one’s newer, shinier. But the decals are the same. The smell of smoke hangs in the damp air.
Nope. Fuck that.
I grip the wheel tighter. My foot presses heavier on the gas.
You are not ready. You thought you were. You’re not.
I blow past the station like my demons are riding shotgun. They probably are. I don’t care.
Instead, I follow the little blue dot on my GPS to the next spot.
Cora’s Sugar Haven.
The bakery is warm from the outside in—string lights in the window, a chalkboard sign out front with a crooked little heart drawn in pink. Open—come in for something sweet! The words are written like an invitation.
I park out front and tug on my tank top, trying to smooth the wrinkles. Then I pull the sleeves on my flannel down over my hands and walk in.
Immediately, I’m hit with the scent of cinnamon, vanilla, butter, and something citrusy. It’s warm. Cozy. The kind of place I would’ve loved to bring Max on a rainy morning if we were still... if he was still...
Don’t go there. Please don’t go there.
And of course—because this town seems to be running a goddamn romance simulation—there’s a couple kissing behind the counter.
Cora, I assume, and a tall, broad-shouldered man who’s dipped her backward like it’s prom night in a movie from the ’90s. He’s got tawny hair pulled into a short bun, a crooked nose like he’s broken it once or twice, and a hand on her ass like he knows what he’s doing with it.
They both freeze when they hear the door chime. Cora straightens, flushed and breathless. The guy looks vaguely smug, wiping sugar from her bottom lip with his thumb.
“Hi there,” Cora says brightly. “Welcome to Sugar Haven. Sorry about the, uh…”
She waves a hand between herself and Thor with a man bun.
I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously, is the entire town in love?”
