Page 37 of Claimed By My Exiled Alphas
I wanted to forage for mushrooms with Jace, to see his ranger knowledge in action and learn how to read the forest the way he did. I wanted to talk about poetry with Hollis, to understand how someone created a sanctuary so effortlessly. I wanted to understand how Cassian’s mind worked, how he could look at contractor quotes and immediately see what I’d missed.
I wanted to know if the flutter in my stomach when I thought about them was reciprocated, or if I was reading significance into ordinary friendships.
And maybe, possibly, if Kit was right about pack dynamics being normal here, I wanted to explore whether three very different connections might actually work together instead of competing.
First, I needed to respond to three texts and see where things went naturally. No pressure, no expectations, just honest interest in getting to know three people who’d each sparked something in me that I’d thought Vincent had killed.
I picked up my phone and started typing.
To Jace:Foraging sounds perfect. I’ve been wanting to learn more about local edibles. Saturday morning work for you?
To Hollis:I’d love to see the Oliver collection. Will you be at the store this afternoon?
To Cassian:A second set of eyes on the permits would be amazing. Are you free for coffee this week?
I hit send on all three before I could second-guess myself, then sat back and waited to see what happened next.
The morning felt suddenly full of possibility instead of anxiety. Maybe Kit was right. Maybe the right people would meet me where I was, without pressure or expectations beyond genuine interest in spending time together.
And maybe, just maybe, I was allowed to want to get to know all three of them without forcing myself to choose between them before I’d even figured out what any of this meant.
My phone buzzed almost immediately with Jace’s response.Saturday’s perfect. There’s a spot near Hollow Creek that should have hen of the woods this time of year. Meet at the ranger station at 8?
Then Hollis.I’ll be here until 6. Come by whenever you’re ready. I’ll put the kettle on.
Finally, Cassian.Thursday afternoon work for you? There’s a coffee shop in Millbrook that’s nice and private and we should have plenty of room for reviewing the documents.
Three different responses, three different styles, three opportunities to figure out what I was feeling and what they might be feeling in return.
I texted back confirmations to all three, then stood up to start my day with something that felt suspiciously like hope warming my chest.
Whatever this was, whatever it might become, I was finally ready to find out.
Chapter 12
Jace
The coffee had gone cold in my thermos an hour ago, but I kept sipping it anyway while I filled out the morning wildlife observation log. Three mule deer does, one possibly pregnant based on body condition. Fresh black bear scat near mile marker seven, consistent with late-season berry foraging. Mountain chickadee flock moving through the mixed conifer stands, preparing for winter elevation changes.
Normal data collection for a normal Tuesday patrol. Except nothing felt normal anymore, and I couldn’t stop checking my phone for a message that hadn’t come.
My radio crackled with static, followed by Ranger Martinez’s voice from the north sector. “Base, this is Martinez. Confirming trail closure at Devil’s Backbone is still in effect. Had hikers asking about access this morning.”
“Copy, Martinez. Closure remains active until Forest Service completes the erosion assessment.”
I picked up my handset. “This is Maddox, southern sector. Morning patrol complete, no incidents to report. Trail conditions good throughout my area except for some minor washout at Whisper Creek crossing.”
“Copy, Maddox. How’s the drainage holding up after last week’s rain?”
“Drainage channels are handling flow well. The new check dams we installed last month are working exactly as designed.” I made a note to include photographic documentation in my weekly report. “I’ll run some measurements this afternoon and get you an update on sediment retention.”
“Sounds good. Still on for that foraging hike Thursday?”
My chest tightened at the mention of our planned outing. “Yeah. Still on.”
Except I wasn’t sure it was still on. Three days since I’d seen Talia around town, and that enthusiastic text confirmation she’d sent last Friday now felt like it belonged to a different timeline. One where I hadn’t pushed too hard, moved too fast, scared her off with my eagerness to share the forest spaces that mattered to me.
“Great. My partner’s been asking about those chanterelles you mentioned. Says if you’re giving away foraging spots, she wants in on the action.”
