Page 21 of Final Drive

“We have two weeks.”

“Then we have two weeks.”

Gray gives him a look that says this is exactly the sort of answer that makes him want to walk into traffic.

“It doesn’t need to be a production,” Eli says. “Jackson and I weren’t planning a threesome that night. It got away from us.”

“Got away from you,” Gray repeats. “Into a threesome. With claiming bites.”

“It was a good night.” Eli shrugs. “Don’t knock it.”

Tyler finally looks up from the laptop. “For the filing, we need three bonded pairs to qualify as a recognized unit. Four is better. Five puts us out of reach on any discrimination claim.”

“So one more gets us over the line,” Gray says. “Three more and nobody can touch us.”

“The claims aren’t the hard part.” Bo shifts on the couch. “The hard part is doing it because we want to, not because Tyler needs another signature.”

“The form exists to protect her.” There’s an edge in Tyler’s voice I don’t hear twice a year. “And us. Without recognition, the university can separate the pack and remove her from the team.”

“We know,” Cameron says. “Bo’s still right.”

Tyler’s mouth tightens, but Eli gets there before he can answer. “He’s not saying the paperwork doesn’t matter. He’s saying I don’t want Reese wondering ten years from now whether somebody bit her because we had a deadline.”

That shuts everybody up.

I look around the room. Seven men, half-empty beers, Tyler’s laptop glowing on the coffee table, and Jackson upstairs doing his best to make sure none of us forget exactly what we’re talking about.

“The real question isn’t timing,” I say. “It’s whether we’re ready. Pack bonds are permanent. This isn’t about nationals or the administration or anybody’s father. This is the rest of our lives.”

Tyler pushes his glasses up. “The average pack bond lasts sixty-eight years.”

Bo turns his head slowly. “Did you seriously look that up?”

“Obviously.”

“Tyler.”

“I’m saying we should be sure.”

“I’m sure.” Cameron doesn’t raise his voice, and every head turns anyway. “I’ve been sure since the night I took her out on the bike. We sat at the overlook and looked at stars while you idiots argued about who got the chair next to her at dinner.”

Beckett sits forward. “That was a date?”

Cameron looks at him.

“You took her on a date and didn’t mention it?”

“Didn’t know I needed permission.”

“How many times?” I ask, because now I need to know. Cameron’s always been the hardest one to read, hanging back while the rest of us fall over ourselves every time Reese walks into a room.

“A few.” He shrugs. “She needed away from the noise. I gave her that.”

“Unbelievable.” Beckett looks genuinely offended. “The quiet one’s been running game this whole time.”

“It’s not game. It’s showing up.” Cameron looks at Gray. “You could try it instead of strategizing about her like she’s a race to win.”

Gray’s face changes for half a second before he gets it under control. “I’m trying to protect her.”