Page 165 of Roulette Rodeo
"Anytime, Rafe," I whisper back, and I mean it.
The storm is still raging when we step outside, but somehow it seems less threatening now. He holds the umbrella over both of us as we run to the truck, and I pretend not to notice that he makes sure I stay completely dry while his right side gets soaked again.
As we drive through the flooded streets toward home, I think about the tears on his face, the way he sobbed like the world was ending, the vulnerability of that moment. Most alphas would be mortified, would probably spend the next month avoiding me out of embarrassment.
But something tells me Rafe isn't most alphas.
The truck's heater finally kicks in, warming the cab, and Rafe reaches over to turn the radio to something classical—piano and strings that fill the silence without demanding attention. His hand hesitates for a moment near mine on the center console, then retreats to the steering wheel.
Baby steps.
We have time.
And hopefully with time, we can help each other heal from the ghosts that haunt us both.
Him from Sophia and the guilt of a love that never was, and me from years of performing for survival, of being seen as commodity rather than person.
The rain continues to fall, but inside the warm truck cab, with Rafe occasionally glancing at me like he's making sure I'm really there. I feel safer than I have in years and relaxed as well.
Safe enough to believe that this pack, this place, this life that still feels too good to be real—it's mine now.
And Rafe, despite all his ice and resistance, is starting to thaw.
The smile stays on my face as we navigate through the storm toward home, Rafe's quiet presence beside me more comforting than any words could be. He's given me something precioustonight—his trust, his vulnerability, his real self beneath all the armor.
In return, I've given him something too: the knowledge that he doesn't have to be perfect to be worthy of care. That someone can see him at his absolute worst—sobbing in a coffee shop, destroyed by cruel words from someone who should have been family—and still choose to offer comfort instead of judgment.
As the compound comes into view through the rain, lit windows promising warmth and probably three anxious alphas waiting for our return, I reach over and briefly squeeze Rafe's hand on the steering wheel.
He doesn’t flinch at the touch, and she sees how he relaxes just slightly.
True baby steps…
It's a promise of sorts—that this moment between us won't be forgotten or dismissed in the light of day. There’s a fundamentally shifted in our dynamic, and there's no going back to the cold distance of before.
The smile on my face grows as I realize that sooner or later, Rafe will let me into his heart, and she isn’t any rush. She’s ready to be the Omega he needs in his life to remind him that he can be loved.
It makes me smile in pure content.
DANGEROUS ROADS AND DARKER THREATS
~RED~
"WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!"
Rafe's shout rises above the chaos as the truck barrels down the steep country road at a speed that's probably illegal in at least forty-seven states. Talon and Corwin are hollering from the back seat—though I can't tell if it's terror or exhilaration—while Shiloh grips the handle above his window so hard his knuckles have gone white.
"WEEEE!" I squeal, pressing the accelerator just a bit more as we hit a bump that sends us airborne for a heart-stopping second.
"Red!" Shiloh curses, his voice cracking slightly. "We're not trying to crash and burn down into the valley!"
The speedometer creeps past sixty-five on a road that definitely has a suggested speed of twenty-five, maybe thirty if you're feeling adventurous. The autumn leaves blur past the windows in streaks of gold and crimson, and the engine roars with the kind of enthusiasm that makes me understand why people become adrenaline junkies.
"Oh, right!" I giggle, finally easing off the gas.
The truck starts to slow—gradually, because slamming the brakes would definitely send us into a spin—and I manage tobring us to a complete stop at the bottom of the hill. The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the sound of four grown men trying to remember how to breathe.
"Oops." I turn around with my best innocent smile. "Was it that bad?"
