Page 16

TRIPP

I can’t help myself.

I find myself here many days, watching and waiting. There’s this invisible line connecting us, and I can do nothing to stop myself from following it to the source.

My eyes follow Remi as she weaves in and out of the tables, serving people with her enigmatic smile. She’s so soft, so malleable. Yet, she is as strong as the fiercest storm.

After that bomb of a conversation we had in Boone’s office, I left with my mind jumbled in thought.

I can’t make heads or tails of it. Knox wants Remi, just as both Boone and I do.

However, he won’t allow himself to take something he wants.

Instead, he’d rather suffer in silence, choosing an omega that is not good for our pack.

I don’t understand it. Nothing about what he’s choosing to do hits a note with me. I can't understand how someone wants something so much, yet they're willing to throw it all away for something that can be replaced.

You cannot replace something irreplaceable.

There will be many other chances to make it in life, but there’s only one Remi. Even just spending a few hours in her presence, I know that to be true. She’s wholesome, real. She’s the realest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. And I want more of it, of her.

The car engine hums softly beneath me as I sit in the shadowed corner of the lot, my hands gripping the steering wheel loosely, my gaze fixed on her through the rain-speckled windshield.

Sip-A-Brew pulses with life, its warm, amber lights spilling onto the pavement like a glowing invitation to step inside—and yet, I remain here, tethered to this seat by an invisible thread of hesitation.

Remi moves like she’s caught in some secret rhythm only she can hear, the sway of her hips and the fluidity of her steps a quiet dance that draws everyone’s attention without her seeming to notice.

The faint laughter of customers escapes through the café’s doors each time someone opens them, blending with the scent of coffee and wet asphalt that lingers in the air.

She glides between the tables inside, her tray balanced expertly, her smile unwavering like a lighthouse cutting through a fog. Her movements are elegant, a quiet grace that makes her seem untouchable, and yet, it’s that very aura that makes her feel so achingly close.

I reach for the coffee cup in the holder beside me; its warmth is long gone, but I don’t mind.

My focus is elsewhere—on her. The way her hair tumbles over her shoulders, catching the light like threads of liquid gold.

The way she pauses to laugh at something one of the customers says, her head tilting slightly with a momentary sparkle in her eyes.

There’s a pull I can’t explain, a gravity that keeps me here, watching, waiting, wanting.

Part of me wonders if she feels it too —this unspoken connection, this invisible string tying me to her, even from the safety of my car.

I know I should leave. I know this will only make things more complicated, but leaving feels like tearing something alive inside me apart.

So I stay, the rain whispering against the glass, the world beyond my car melting away until all that remains is her. Remi, the storm I can’t escape, floating through Sip-A-Brew like a piece of art that no one can touch but everyone wants to admire.

That night in the restaurant, I couldn’t take my eyes off her, just as I am now. Her presence draws you in until nothing else matters, only her. She’s the beacon in a storm, the light in a lighthouse that safely guides you home when you've lost your way.

Remi is everything I’ve always wanted, and I find myself falling more and more under her spell without uttering a word to her.

I know what I’m doing is considered stalking, but I can’t really bring myself to care all too much. Her presence draws me in, and I am too weak to fight it. Honestly, I don’t even want to.

The seat beneath me cradles me like a second skin, its buttery smooth leather cool against my palms as I trace idle circles along the edge.

It has that rich, almost velvety texture that seems to whisper luxury, a quiet indulgence that contrasts with the storm raging inside me.

The faint scent of polished leather mingles with the damp air filtering through the cracked window, grounding me in this moment, even as my thoughts wander endlessly to her.

Each shift of my weight yields a soft creak, a gentle reminder of the world beyond the glass—a world I can’t quite bring myself to enter because her gravity pulls me back, to this seat, to her.

I should be at the motorcycle shop right now, finalizing the paperwork for the new bike that’s been waiting patiently for a customer to claim.

The thought lingers at the edges of my mind, a quiet, nagging responsibility that I know I should tend to—but it feels so insignificant compared to this. Compared to her.

The shop will still be there tomorrow, the papers neatly stacked in their manila folder, the gleaming machine waiting for my signature to make it theirs.

But this moment, this fleeting slice of time where Remi exists, in my view, is something I can’t bring myself to exchange for obligations.

Even the thought of riding my motorcycle doesn’t speak to me.

The roar of an engine, the thrill of the open road, none of it compares to the way she moves, the way she fills the air around her as if she’s painting the world in hues only she can create.

So, I stay here instead, letting the hours slip through my fingers like sand, tethered, not to tasks or timelines, but to the image of her inside Sip-A-Brew, unaware of the storm she’s set loose in me.

Since dinner that night, we haven’t reached out to her, even though I desperately want to.

She hasn’t reached out to us, either. I don’t expect her to, not with how Knox left things between us.

She saw her worth that night, even though she tried to speak to Knox’s more understanding side, and she found us lacking.

I find myself lacking, so it’s no surprise that she does as well.

The day slowly turns to night as I sit here and watch her prance around the coffee shop. My phone has been ringing almost nonstop since I parked a few hours ago, but I can’t bring myself to tear my gaze away and answer. I don’t want anything to impede my time surveilling Remi.

I’ve never felt this way before in my life.

Even when I dated my longtime girlfriend in school and thought I was in love, it didn't feel like this. I feel this inferno building inside me, swirling with the storm of my thoughts and feelings. It’s deep, roaring, and makes me feel like my world is titled on its axis.

The sharp vibration of my phone jolts against my thigh, breaking the fragile cocoon of silence I've wrapped around myself. It’s relentless, insistent, like a persistent mosquito buzzing in the stillness of a summer night.

The muffled trill echoes faintly through the damp air, a sound that feels both distant and too close to ignore.

My hand hovers near my pocket, hesitating, as though answering it would sever some invisible thread tying me to this moment.

The phone persists, a second vibration rattling against the fabric as if demanding my attention, daring me to acknowledge the outside world.

But I remain still, as though moving would shatter the fragile equilibrium I’ve built around her presence.

Before I can make my mind up to finally answer the call, it silences once more. Can’t they understand that I’m busy? I’m too invested in watching my girl to worry about whoever it is on the other end. At this point, they’re a burdensome pest that needs to go away and never return.

And she is—my girl.

Remi may not know this, but in my head, she’s mine. Every single inch of her belongs to me.

If only I could get Knox on board with it.

Boone will be no trouble because he’s already there.

He wants her as much as I do, if not more.

Playing around with each other when the need for release strikes us isn’t doing it for either one of us anymore.

Yes, it’s a release. However, now we want more. Need more.

Knox is the issue. He has this idiotic idea that Remi will hurt his image. How can something so precious and beautiful hurt anything? She’s the epitome of a natural-born goddess. She’s ethereal. Just being close to her does things I didn’t think were possible.

Her scent. It drives me absolutely wild. It took everything inside of me not to lay claim to her right then and there. My sense of smell is more heightened than either Boone's or Knox’s, so when I first got a whiff of Remi, I knew.

She’s our home.

Being near Remi is a compulsion. She’s ingrained into every single part of me, and I only spent a few hours around the woman.

However, no matter what I tell Knox, he won't budge. It won’t matter that she’s our scent match mate.

He has his head dead set on an omega who will look good by his side when he attends events and dinner meetings.

Yet, what he doesn’t get is Remi is that woman.

She’s everything we’ve ever wanted and all the things we’ve been waiting for.

If only I could get Knox to see that. He’s so stubborn, refusing to see the goddess Select-A-Mate matched us with.

Instead, all he sees is the outside appearance.

He didn’t take the time to see what was on the inside.

That’s what counts. It doesn’t matter what you look like.

It only matters in how you carry yourself and the way your personality shines.

Remi is vivid, like a sparkling, raw diamond. She’s a little rough around the edges, but her personality is so bright that it’s blinding in its appearance.

She shook the ground beneath me when we walked into the restaurant.

I didn’t want to appear to be a creeper, but throughout the night, I couldn’t stop myself from staring at her, wondering what she’d look like in the throes of passion.

Would she be as dazzling as she is when she smiles?

Would she lose herself so completely that all she feels, sees, and hears is her partner?

I have so many thoughts running rampant through my mind that it’s hard to keep them all straight.

Remi’s presence makes me lose myself completely. Instead of being Tripp, I’m her servant. I’d gladly kneel in front of her, begging her for a moment, just a moment, of her attention.

I can practically feel her fingers running through my hair as she coos at me when I have a rough day. My entire body deflates in relaxation when I think of the moment she solely gave me her attention that night. I felt like the king of the world and wanted to thump my chest and roar.

I have no doubt Remi is it for me. Now, I need to convince Knox to see it the same way.

Just as my thoughts spiral deeper into the vortex of Remi, the familiar buzz of my phone jolts me back to reality.

It vibrates insistently in my pocket, a stubborn intruder breaking through the haze she’s woven around me.

Each pulse feels like an impatient tap on my shoulder, persistent and demanding attention.

For a second, I debated ignoring it again, letting it rattle itself into silence while I linger here, consumed by the vivid world Remi effortlessly creates in my mind.

But the persistent rhythm is hard to ignore, relentless like the doubts Knox keeps throwing in my path.

I fish the phone out, glancing at the screen with mild annoyance. Another call. Another disruption. Another voice that isn’t hers. But I know he wouldn’t be calling so many times unless it were really important.

Sliding my finger across the screen, I put it on speakerphone as my gaze once more drifts toward Remi.

My eyes slide along the curve of her body, lingering on her full breasts and thick thighs that I wish I could feel wrapped around me.

She’s juicy in all the best ways, and I can’t wait until the day I find myself able to touch her as completely as I crave.

“Boone, what is it? I’m kind of busy,” I say.

His timid laugh on the other end makes me smile. “Yeah, you’re busy alright. What’s our girl doing?”

“How’d you know I was here?”

“You sometimes forget that I know you better than you know yourself. When you get a scent of something you like, you’re like a rabid dog,” he replies, chortling.

I shrug as if he can see me. “It’s not my fault. I’m not ashamed to admit that she has me spellbound.”

“Spellbound is right. She’s glorious,” he answers wistfully.

“What do you need?” I ask, feeling this kind of urgency through our bond. It’s been steadily buzzing for a few hours now, but until now, I didn’t allow it to take center stage.

He sighs. “We need you to come home, Tripp. Knox is about two shakes shy of losing it completely.”

Something about his tone has me sitting upright, rigid and on edge. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“He got his numbers in today,” he says, pausing. “It’s not good. He’s fallen so far behind that there’s no way he’s going to catch up unless we pull something out of our asses.”

The hum of Boone’s voice fades, leaving only the static of the line and the thrum of my own heartbeat in its wake.

I sit there, still as the car around me, as if moving might shatter the fragile calm.

His words echo in my head—Knox, the numbers, falling behind—heavy and ominous, but I say nothing. I listen.

My throat tightens with the weight of unspoken words. I want to ask, to demand answers, but I wait, letting Boone’s pause stretch longer than either of us might wish to. The bond between us pulses like a subtle ripple under my skin—a quiet insistence that I can’t ignore.

As I open my mouth to speak, to offer something—anything—a sudden crash rings out on Boone’s end, sharp and startling, like breaking glass. My grip tightens on the phone instinctively.

“Boone?” I say, my voice sharp with alarm.

But there’s no reply. The static swells, and then, just as abruptly, the line goes dead. Whatever I was about to say dies in the silence left behind, and an icy dread curls its way around my chest.