Keith
I load the last of Hope’s bags into the back of the SUV, slamming the trunk with a satisfying thud. She’s double-checking her tote by the porch, flipping through it like she’s smuggling state secrets and not just a travel mug and three backup lip balms.
“You ready?” I ask.
She looks up, eyes bright. “Yeah, just—wait. Where’s my phone charger?”
“Front pocket,” I say without even checking. She checks anyway. Finds it. Smiles like I just read her mind.
I walk toward the driver’s side, but a familiar scent catches on the wind—cedar and adrenaline. Ben.
“Hey,” he calls, jogging up the gravel drive.
I meet him halfway, pulse tightening like it always does around him lately. Things have been easier since the Alphas stepped back, but we still dance carefully.
“What’s up?” I ask, nodd
