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Chapter thirty-four

VIOLET

I prop my phone up against the dashboard, angling the screen just right before hitting the video call button. It rings twice before Sofie’s face appears, flushed and damp, strands of wet hair sticking to her cheeks. Behind her, Hawk and Lance sprawl in the oversized tub, their broad shoulders bracketing her small frame, looking entirely too pleased with themselves. Lance’s arm is draped across the edge, fingers tracing slow, idle circles along the water’s surface, while Hawk leans back, eyes half-lidded, his hand resting on Sofie’s thigh.

The image is obscene in the most unintentional way—too intimate, too easy, too much like something out of a dream. I shake my head, snorting. “Jesus, I leave you alone for a few hours, and this is what I come back to?”

Sofie giggles, tilting her head to nuzzle into Lance’s chest, her fingers trailing lazily over his skin. Hawk doesn’t even open his eyes, just keeps rubbing slow, possessive circles against her thigh like he’s memorizing the shape of her.

“They’re taking care of me,” she murmurs, voice warm, drowsy, satisfied in a way that makes my throat go tight.

“I can see that,” I say, watching as Lance plucks a piece of fruit from a nearby dish and presses it to her lips. She parts them easily, letting him feed her, the sight so soft it almost doesn’t fit the rest of this fucked-up world.

Gray, silent up until now, glances over at me. Amusement flickers in his blue eyes, but he doesn’t say anything, just keeps his attention split between me and the road, like he’s giving me the space to process.

Sofie’s gaze finds mine again, something quieter settling in her expression. That bright, youthful giddiness shifts, dims just a fraction, turning into something deeper. Something certain.

“We can be happy, Violet,” she says, no hesitation in her voice now. “We can have them too.”

I exhale sharply, forcing a small smirk, needing the moment to be lighter than it is. “Let them pamper you, baby.”

Sofie hums, her fingers tracing lazy patterns along Lance’s collarbone. “I am. But you have to do the same.” Gray chuckles, a low, knowing sound that vibrates through the car, and I barely get the chance to shoot him a glare before Sofie continues, her expression turning smug, but still deadly fucking serious underneath it all. “Let Gray take care of you.”

My mouth opens—ready to argue, ready to brush it off, ready to turn it into something easier—but the moment I do, Sofie’s expression shifts again. The teasing edge fades.

“You deserve it, Vi.”

Gray’s fingers curl around my thigh, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment to remind me I’m not alone in this anymore. I exhale through my nose, roll my eyes because it’s the easiest thing to do when my chest feels like it’s caving in, when raw emotions are scratching their way out into the open. “Fine. But don’t get used to it.”

The call ends, the screen going dark, and I sink back into my seat, exhaling like I can force this feeling out of me, like I can push it away before it settles too deep.

Gray doesn’t say anything at first, just keeps his hand right where it is, thumb tracing slow, steady circles over my jeans, like he’s waiting for me to shatter and isn’t in any hurry to rush it. Then, after a beat, he asks. “So… you gonna let me take care of you, princess?”

“If you’re good,” I throw back at him.

The diner hums with low conversations, the clang of metal spatulas against greasy grills, the occasional burst of laughter from the corner booth where a group of truckers are probably swapping stories about the worst roadside stops they’ve ever been to. The air is thick with the scent of sizzling meat and deep-fried everything, the kind of smell that sticks to your clothes and lingers under your nails.

This is the kind of place where time doesn’t matter. Where you could walk in at three in the morning or three in the afternoon, and the same tired-eyed waitress would still be chewing gum, scribbling down orders like she’s been doing it for a decade. It’s exactly the kind of place I wouldn’t have pictured Gray bringing me to.

I lean back against the cracked vinyl of the booth, drumming my fingers against the table as he sprawls in front of me, casual, unbothered, arm draped over the back of his seat like he owns the damn place. A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. “Didn’t take you for the type to eat greasy foods like this.”

Gray huffs out a laugh, dragging a hand through his hair before shooting me a look that’s far too amused for my liking. “Princess, you think I’m living off caviar and expensive steaks just because Puma owns a nice house?”

I shrug, tugging at the hem of my shirt. “I mean… kinda.”

He snorts, shaking his head as he pushes open the door, the little bell above jingling weakly like it’s seen better days. The wave of warm, greasy air that hits me square in the face is almost suffocating, but in the best way.

“That house was passed down in Puma’s family,” he says as we weave through the narrow space, past booths filled with people who barely look up, too focused on shoveling food into their mouths. “Puma makes breakfast. Hawk usually makes dinner. None of us are around for lunch, so it’s whatever’s easiest.”

A flicker of disbelief crosses my face. “Hawk cooks?”

Gray slides into a booth in the back, the table slightly sticky, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. “Like a goddamn chef.”

Skepticism coils in my gut as I fold my arms over my chest. “No fucking way. Hawk, the walking scowl, can cook?”

Gray grins, shaking his head like he’s remembering something. “You should see him when he’s focused. Gets all quiet, brows furrowed, dead serious.”

I snort. “Sexy.”

He winks, leaning in just slightly. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”

A waitress swings by, smacking her gum loud as she pulls a pen from behind her ear. She barely looks at us as she slaps down two laminated menus, but I don’t need to look.

“Double cheeseburger, extra pickles,” I say easily. “Large fries. Vanilla shake.”

Gray tilts his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You eat like a starving teenager.”

“You have no idea.”

He lets out a chuckle and orders the same, insisting we “keep it simple” like he’s trying to prove something. The waitress scribbles it down, gives us a lazy nod, then disappears back toward the kitchen. The lull in conversation stretches, comfortable but expectant. I prop my chin on my hand, studying the way Gray leans back, fingers brushing against my shoulder absentmindedly.

“How did the four of you come together?” I’ve been mulling on the question for a while but now I’m curious because the four of the Ashford Alphas just seem so wildly different.

“It was chaos at first,” he admits, his voice low, just loud enough for me to hear over the noise of the diner. “The pack forming. Trying to make it work. It was mostly business at first. None of us expected it to settle the way it did. Puma was already established, Lance and Hawk were just doing their thing, and then I kinda slipped in. It took time, but we found our footing. Now, it works.”

“Do you ever wish it was different?”

Gray tilts his head, meeting my gaze. “What do you mean?”

I shrug, rolling the question over in my mind, trying to figure out how to say it without making it sound like something it’s not. “Like… I don’t know. More normal?”

He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “Define normal.”

I scoff. “You know what I mean.”

Gray runs a hand through his hair, exhaling like he’s considering it, like he’s giving the thought real weight. “Honestly? No. Not really. I mean, I wish things were easier sometimes. I wish I was closer to my brother. But this pack? It’s mine. It’s home.”

There’s something final about the way he says it. Something sure. I hesitate, then ask, “When was the last time you saw your brother?”

His lips press together, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for something, maybe a cigarette, maybe a drink, maybe nothing at all. “Been a minute. He’s caught up in hockey and college. I’m caught up in work.”

I bump my shoulder against his. “We should go to one of his games. I mean it,” I say, holding his gaze. “It’s not like you don’t have the time. And if you don’t, then make the time. He’s your brother, Gray.” I don’t have my family anymore, not like I used to, not after I chose Sofie and I’d do it again every goddamn time.

“I’d really like that,” he murmurs.

I grin, squeezing his arm. “Then we’ll go.”