Page 1 of Final Drive

PARTS OF THE BOAT

CHAPTER ONE

Reese

Forty-seven notifications, and I’ve been staring at my phone for six minutes watching the number climb every time my mother finds a new way to phrase “you’ve ruined everything.”

The team house kitchen smells like bacon and coffee. Zane’s at the stove arguing with Beckett about whether the pancakes need more vanilla, Tyler has his laptop open and keeps losing the thread of whatever he’s reading to referee them, and Bo leans against the counter with his coffee going cold, watching the window like he expects somebody to pull into the driveway.

They’re all here. Jackson sits at the far end of the island nursing black coffee and looking like he slept about as well as I did. Eli’s beside him, scrolling his phone and leaning into Jackson’s space the way he does when he’s worried. Gray stands apart with his arms crossed, staring at the coffee maker like it owes him money. Cameron has the corner chair and hasn’t said a word.

Yesterday we swept the SRC Championship at Lake Hartwell and set a course record, and my teammates threw me in the water afterward in the best tradition of the sport.

Then my mother called me a whore in front of fifty strangers, and Gray told his father he was no longer a Lockwood.

“The legal framework is straightforward,” Tyler says, giving up on the pancake debate. “Pack bonds have been federally recognized since 2019. Processing takes about three weeks, but the declaration of intent is immediate.”

“And that protects us from the administration?” Gray asks. He hasn’t looked at me directly since we got back to the house last night.

“It should. University policy prohibits disciplinary action against legally recognized pack units. They can’t penalize us for biological bonding if we’re in the middle of formalizing.”

“Morrison gave us a deadline.”

“That’s the good part. We file intent and the clock stops. They have to wait for the legal process to finish before they can touch us.”

Jackson makes a low sound from his spot at the island. “So we’re doing this.”

“We’re discussing it,” Gray says.

“Discussing.” Jackson sets his mug down hard enough that coffee comes over the rim. “We show up as a pack or we lose everything. That isn’t a discussion, it’s an ultimatum with better manners.”

“He’s right,” Eli says. “The administration backed us into a corner and this is the only way out of it.”

“It protects the team.” Bo’s palm settles on my lower back. “Protects her.”

Her. Not Reese, and not even our Omega.

“We need to move fast,” Tyler continues. “I can have the paperwork ready by tomorrow. We’d need signatures from everyone, proof of biological compatibility, and a statement of consensual intent.”

“Biological compatibility won’t be an issue,” Beckett says. “Pretty sure we’ve established that.”

Cameron snorts, which is about as much commentary as he offers before noon.

“So we’re agreed.” Gray straightens into captain mode. “We file for pack recognition this week and present a united front.”

Murmurs go around the room. Zane slides a plate of pancakes in front of me with a wink, Jackson’s hand finds Eli’s under the table, and every one of them is ready to formalize a bond that will tie us together for the rest of our lives.

“Reese?” Gray’s voice cuts through. “You good with this?”

They all turn to look at me, waiting for me to say yes, this is what I want.

These men chose me over their families yesterday. They stood on that dock and told their parents where to go, and that has to mean something.

But everything in this kitchen is strategy. Protection and survival and paperwork and united fronts, and not one of them has looked me in the eye and said he’s doing it because he wants to spend his life with me.

“Yeah.” I make myself smile. “I’m good. Let’s do it.”

Gray nods and turns back to Tyler, and the conversation flows around me the way water goes around a stone.