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“I think it’s time to go to bed, little warrior,” I say, and those puppy dog eyes of hers twist me up inside. We were planning on having a chat together, but I know none of them will begrudge her this. “I’ll come up with you,” I offer.
“No, no,” she says, shaking her head.
This weekend is more than just a chance for Nora to bond with her wolf, or a romantic getaway for the seven of us. We could sense that we were struggling, individually and as a group, and we came up with the idea to come here.
Well, to be fair, Orson came up with this idea, and then we all helped it come into fruition. Okay, everyone except Micah, since we forgot to let him in on the planning. He had been keeping our girl company, which gave us the time to get things organised, and we just… never told him.
“I’ll take you up,” Orson says, already climbing out the hot tub.
I roll my eyes, and Griffin locks onto the movement, a little bit of jealousy in his baby blues. I smirk, and he shoots me the finger behind Nora’s back. Bastard. He’d not out himself as the biggest instigator around her, but he most definitely is.
I lift Nora out of the hot tub and pass her over to Orson, who immediately wraps a robe around her. I sigh, hating the fact that her bikini-clad body is already covered up, but she gives us all the sweetest goodnight before leaving with Orson.
“So, are we waiting for Orson to come back?” Fin asks, and I nod.
“Great,” he says, launching himself out of the tub. He doesn’t bother grabbing a towel, but unlike Nora, I don’t care if he gets a cold. We’re not susceptible to them, normally, but I bet the griffin would be the first shifter to get one. “I’m going to go grab a drink. Who wants one?”
“Me,” Micah says, raising his hand. I frown, not used to Micah drinking, and this will be his fifth, but I know for a fact it will digest very quickly through his system. It’s fine, I’ll make sure he gets to bed.
“Should one of us not stay with her?” Voss asks, seeming a little hesitant as he glances up at the top of the cabin where our rooms are.
“I think she’ll be fine,” I say. She might actually welcome the time alone, since she’s not had much of it since the attempt. “And if not, I’m sure Orson will stay with her.”
“It’s always the fucking bear,” Voss says, rolling his eyes as he gets comfortable. He’s got his own bottle of whisky, the one that tastes fucking amazing but he refuses to share.
And if he did, well, I’m probably the only one not getting some after I helped myself the other week.
“She was worried about that,” Micah says, causing all three of us to pause. Atticus leans forward, wanting the hidden secrets about our mate, but he’s not the only one. I hate that Nora’s got so much shit on her plate, that she’s struggling as bad as she is.
But to hear she’s worried about Voss being jealous over Orson? I hate it.
There are so many more things to worry about. Actual issues at that, and for Devoss to be causing this?
I’m a breath away from punching him in his fat fucking head.
“What do you mean?” I ask, the eager tone getting me looks from the others. I’m eager to help her by pummelling into the fox. Fucking hell.
“She mentioned it the other day, I don’t know if she’s spoken to you about it yet?” Micah asks, looking to Voss.
“No,” the fox says, shaking his head. Regret fills his face, and Micah gives him a reassuring look.
“Well, she’s just worried that everyone thinks she likes Orson best.”
“We’re all her mates. She likes us equally,” I say, but I don’t think I sound sincere, even to myself. “Of course, she doesn’t like Orson best.”
But deep down, I feel like she does, too. I understand it, the bear is a better man, as much as it pisses me off to hear it. He cares for her, he puts her first, he does all the little fucking things for her that I just don’t. It wouldn’t surprise me if she put him first and loved him most.
Atticus does.
But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love me. I just don’t come first.
“I will stop making those comments,” Voss says. “We all have our different places in her life and our different roles to do. I understand that. I think I’ve just been bitching a little because of everything that has happened and not necessarily out of a desire to be the one at her side twenty-four seven.”
Atticus nods, and I know he understands.
I do, too, even if I hate it.
“Are we really having this conversation in the hot tub?” Fin asks, coming back from the house with two bottles of beer. He climbs into the hot tub and hands one over to my younger brother, who immediately takes a swig and thanks him. “You’re welcome.”
