Page 45 of Stuck with my Pack
Sophie laughs, the sound lighter now, and the tension in the room shifts to something easier.
As the three of us move into the dining area, the smell of roasted vegetables and warm bread fills the air. Ethan joins us, his presence grounding as always, though his eyes flicker to Sophie more often than not.
The want of her shifts just beneath the surface, possessive, unspoken but undeniable. And as we gather around the table, I can’t help but wonder what the night will bring—and how long we can keep ignoring the growing pull between us all.
We settle around the table, the aroma of the dinner Sophie and I prepared filling the room. Brodie sprawls in one chair, his usual relaxed confidence radiating, while Ethan sits more rigidly, his eyes sharp and focused.
Sophie moves around the table, placing dishes and pouring drinks, her scent wrapping around all of us like a warm blanket.
I can’t help but watch her, the way she moves, the gentle concentration in her expression. I vaguely listen to Brodie and Ethan talking about something.
My Alpha is restless, wanting to stake a claim, to shout for all to hear that she’s ours, but I shove it down. Tonight’s not the time for that—not yet.
“So,” Sophie says, sitting down at last. Her smile is warm but tinged with nerves as her gaze flicks between the three of us. “Thank you guys for coming.”
Her nervousness is cute.
“I couldn’t do any of this without you. I didn’t know I needed help until you all bullied your way in here.” She laughs. The sound is warm and welcoming. “ I guess I just wanted to say thank you. I know I’m not always the easiest to be around, and I do a lot of stuff the hard way. But you’ve all been here for me when I needed you most.”
I don’t miss the blush that flushes her cheeks. And suddenly, my mind is in her pants.
But her words also hit deep, settling in a place I hadn’t realized was aching. I glance at Ethan, whose jaw flexes ever so slightly, his sharp eyes flicking toward Sophie like he’s holding back something.
Then there’s Brodie, who nods with that easy, knowing smile—like he already understands exactly what’s happening here, between all of us.
“We make a good team,” Brodie says, his voice low, certain. “And we’re not going anywhere.”
“Speak for yourself,” I tease, leaning back in my chair with a smirk. “I’m only here for the food. And maybe the sex.” And like that, the tension lifts, and we all laugh.
Sophie’s laugh is soft but full, and fuck, if it isn’t my favorite sound. The tension that’s been crackling in the room since Ethan and Brodie walked in eases just a little, replaced by somethingwarmer. Familiar. Like we’re not just trying to navigate this thing between us—we’re living it, breathing it.
And damn if it doesn’t feel good.
As we eat, the conversation flows naturally, though there’s an undercurrent of something unspoken—an awareness we’re all skirting around.
Brodie talks about the repairs still needed at the inn, and Sophie shares her plans for the next steps. Ethan listens quietly, his gaze occasionally drifting to Sophie, his expression unreadable.
At one point, Sophie asks Ethan a question about the orchard, and for a moment, his face softens as he talks about the apple trees, the soil, and the seasons. It’s a rare glimpse of him at ease, and I can see the way Sophie leans in slightly, her attention fully on him.
Brodie catches my eye and smirks like he’s reading my thoughts. “Ethan,” he says, cutting in, “Glad to see you smiling. Been way too damn long.”
Ethan shrugs, his gaze flicking to Sophie. “Feels…right,” he says after a moment, his voice low but honest.
The words hang in the air, heavier than they should be, and Sophie shifts in her seat, her cheeks flushing.
When dinner wraps up, Sophie insists on clearing the table, but I wave her off. “You cooked. Let us handle this.”
She hesitates but eventually nods, retreating to the living room while the three of us tackle the dishes.
“Fuck. I’m going to level with you guys. All I can think about is her,” Brodie says finally, breaking the quiet.
Ethan doesn’t respond, but the look he gives Brodie says enough.
“I know what you mean. I wake up hard as a fucking rock every morning,” I say, my voice quiet. “She’s just so fucking right for us.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and I feel both Ethan and Brodie’s eyes on me. I expect a jab from Brodie or a gruff remark from Ethan, but neither of them says a word.
We finish the dishes in silence, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down on all of us.
