Page 73 of Claimed By My Exiled Alphas
Cassian sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I’m practicing bowling before next week. I refuse to be this terrible indefinitely.”
“That’s the spirit. Competitive excellence through determination.”
We went our separate ways, and I drove home thinking about how weird and right this all felt. Three alphas who barely knew each other two months ago, now genuinely invested in each other’s happiness and wellbeing.
My phone buzzed with a final message in the group chat.
From Talia:Thank you. All three of you. For trying this with me. For being willing to do the hard work. I know it’s not easy.
I typed back:Nothing worth having is easy. But you’re worth it.
Hollis:What Jace said, but with more literary eloquence.
Cassian:I’m still committed to this arrangement. Even if it means enduring weekly bowling humiliation.
Talia:Pretty sure that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.
I smiled at my phone and headed inside, already looking forward to next week. To more time with two alphas who were becoming genuine friends. To building something with Talia that felt bigger and better than anything I’d imagined when I first came back to Hollow Haven.
To pack. To family. To choosing each other every single day.
Some things were worth being uncomfortable for. And This was definitely one of them.
Chapter 20
Talia
Sunday dinners at Cassian’s house had become my favorite part of the week. Something about all four of us gathering in his spacious kitchen, cooking together and talking while food simmered, felt more like home than anywhere I’d lived in years.
This was our third Sunday dinner, and the routine had already established itself. Cassian provided the space and wine. Jace brought whatever he’d foraged that week. Hollis showed up with fresh bread from Micah’s bakery. And I brought my knife skills and the kind of casual authority that came from years in professional kitchens.
“Okay, Jace, what culinary treasure did you find this week?” I asked, washing my hands at Cassian’s deep farmhouse sink.
“Hen of the woods. Massive patch near Whisper Creek.” He unpacked a basket of beautiful gray-brown mushrooms. “I was thinking we could do that pasta thing you taught me.”
“With the brown butter and sage? Perfect.” I started sorting through Cassian’s impressively organized spice cabinet. “Hollis, can you handle the salad?”
“I can adequately manage lettuce,” he said, already pulling vegetables from the refrigerator.
Cassian poured wine for everyone, then leaned against his counter watching us work. “I feel like I should be helping.”
“You’re providing the space and the wine. That’s helping,” I said, accepting a glass from him. “Plus, your kitchen is beautiful. These counters alone are making me jealous.”
“I may have gone slightly overboard when I renovated.” He looked around the space with something like pride. “But I wanted one room in this house that felt completely mine. Not influenced by my family’s taste or expectations.”
“You succeeded,” Hollis said. “This kitchen has personality.”
We fell into a comfortable rhythm. I showed Jace how to clean the mushrooms properly while Hollis chopped vegetables and Cassian set the table in the adjoining dining room. Conversation flowed easily between cooking instructions and casual updates.
“Bistro remediation is done,” I mentioned while demonstrating knife technique. “Final health department inspection is Friday.”
“That’s excellent,” Cassian said, returning from the dining room. “Nervous?”
“Terrified. But also excited?” I handed Jace the cleaned mushrooms. “Okay, now you’re going to sauté these in the brown butter. Remember what I taught you about not crowding the pan?”
“Don’t crowd the pan or they’ll steam instead of getting crispy,” he recited dutifully.
“Good student.” I turned to Cassian. “How’s the consulting work going?”
