Page 12 of Puck Your Friend

Then… she exhales and relaxes into me. Her scent is as flat and neutral as any Beta’s, but there’s something underneath it. Something faint and warm, almost like brown sugar about to burn. It tugs at me in a way that makes my chest ache.

It’s probably wishful thinking. A selfish part of me wants her to be an Omega. If she were, we could claim her.

I’m an Alpha. She’s a Beta. We aren’t meant to fit that way. Not without pain or denying the way my body wants to knot her.

With Frankie, love might be enough. I could want her in the innocent way I used to: movie dates, hand holding, and talking under the stars.

I think the others would still want to build something around her. A life without sex. Just to keep her close.

But that’s a fantasy. I don’t know how she feels. We’re the boys she grew up with. Friends who never moved on. She’d think we were creeps if she knew what we were still holding onto.

Maybe we are.

I blink hard and try to come back to reality. Remind myself where we are. That she’s real and here.

The last time I saw her, she was yanked out of camp before we even had a chance to say goodbye. One day she was there, the next she was gone.

We tried everything to find her after that summer. We didn’t know her last name. Camp wouldn’t give out personal information, even when we begged. They shut us down fast. Said it was policy.

For years, we talked about her. Wondered if we made her up. If she’d forgotten us the second she left, because no letter ever came. Nothing to explain what had happened.

But she’s here now.

I pull back enough to look at her face. She lifts her chin, pretending she’s fine and not surprised.

I glance over at my pack. “Guys.”

Logan stands frozen. Jace grips the edge of the bench, blinking fast.

Wes frowns and his eyebrows knit together.

None of them moves. They’re caught between believing and not letting themselves hope yet.

I tip my head toward her. “It’s her. It’s Frankie.”

Jace rises, his skate guards thudding against the floor. He takes a careful step forward, eyes locked on Frankie, his face amix of shock and elation. His foot knocks over the water bottle at his feet, sending it clattering across the floor. The noise cuts through the moment, drawing every eye. The cameraman turns to catch it.

My gaze turns back toward her. Frankie’s eyes widen, panic flashing beneath the surface.

I shift toward her, angling myself to block the others without turning away. She edges back, the muted drag of her sneakers against the rubber matting the only sound she makes. Her body stays half-turned, caught between leaving and staying.

I lift a hand. “Give her a minute.”

They stop. Their shoulders stay tight, with hands half-curled like they’re ready to reach out. Every part of them strains forward, but no one moves.

My chest tightens. I turn back to her, leaning in just enough for her to hear me, keeping my voice low. “You don’t have to explain what happened. I won’t ask. I just... need you to know we never stopped looking for you.”

I pull back, giving her space.

Her cracked, pale lips part, but the words don’t come. She swallows them down, jaw tight, eyes darting between me and the others. Her fingers come up to touch something beneath the collar of her turtleneck.

Could she still have the necklace?

She might be here for work, not for us; the way she won’t meet my eyes makes that clear. But we can’t let her disappear again.We barely made it through the first time she left. If there’s a second, I don’t think we’ll hold it together.

I need to know if the ghost I’ve been chasing all these years is really her, or just a figment of my imagination.

Chapter 3

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