“It’s already made.” Jeremy takes my hand, helping me step onto the little landing and into Killian’s room. “The boys made dinner tonight.”
I stare up at the beta, trying to process what he just said. “Thealphascooked?” I’m not sure if I’m impressed or scared. I’ve never met an alpha that can prepare a decent meal.
“Yes.” Jeremy laughs at the look on my face. “Basil is actually a pretty good cook, and Tristan isn’t bad either.” He drops his voice, and he whispers, “But Killian is just awful.”
I laugh at that, wondering just how bad he is. “My brothers are terrible cooks, too.” I follow the beta through the house. “My mother wanted her boys to be able to feed themselves, but not a single one of them is any good.”
“How many siblings do you have?” Jeremy asks in his usual friendly tone.
“Five brothers,” I say, a little excited to talk about them. I miss them terribly. “I’m the only girl.”
“Five?” Jeremy’s light blue eyes go wide as we slowly walk down the stairs. “That’s a big family.”
“You’re telling me.” I snort loudly. “Thankfully, we’re all spaced out.” I continue as we pass the gym. “I’m the oldest by quite a few years. The rest are fifteen, thirteen, eight, six, and seven months.”
“Wow.” Jeremy looks at me like I’m the most interesting person he’s ever met. “My brother and I are only a few yearsapart. Growing up, there were some days that we terrorized my poor mother. I think six kids might have killed her.”
I laugh, wishing I could meet his brother. I wonder if he has the same icy-blue eyes. “It helps that we’re all so far apart in age. I can help with the young ones. I mean, I’m almost twenty-four years older than the baby.”
“What baby?” Killian asks as we enter the kitchen. He’s still shirtless. All three of them are as they flit around the kitchen, preparing dinner.
This is torture.
“Beth hasfivebrothers,” Jeremy says like he still can’t believe it.
“Damn.” Killian glances at me as he pours a pot of hot water into the sink, straining something.
“That’s a fuck-ton of kids,” Tristan says with a loud snort. “Your poor mother.” He picks up two baskets of bread, then cuts around the kitchen island. We follow the alpha, and my stomach growls loudly.
Basil places a big bowl of leafy greens on the table, then pulls my chair out for me. “I hope you like spaghetti.”
Excitement swirls in my chest as I quickly take my seat. “I love it.” I stifle a happy thrill. “Pasta takes so much time to make, so we rarely have it, but I do love it.”
“Well, sadly the pasta is store-bought.” Basil takes his usual seat next to me. “But it’s still decent.”
“It’s the best damn spaghetti on earth.” Tristan sits down across from me. “But the garlic bread is the best part.” He places a large piece on my plate. “I made it,” he whispers, his voice deep and rumbly in the air.
“Thank you.” I pick up the piece of buttery bread, staring at it and not the massive alphas around me.
“Let's eat.” Killian places a big bowl of noodles covered in red sauce on the table, and we dig in.
The boys chat, keeping the conversation pretty light. Tristan talks about a car he’s been fixing up for the last few months, and Basil mentions a job he’s taking tomorrow. A pang of sadness grips me at the thought of him not being here, and I have to remind myself that I won’t be here either.
My gaze drifts to the green vase in the corner. The tiny paring knife and my meager stash of food sits at the bottom. The knife is weak protection and the food will only last me a day, maybe two. I might try to see what’s in the pantry tonight, but I hid that stuff so I wouldn’t have to rummage through anything. The less noise I make the better.
“All done?” Basil asks, eyeing my plate. It’s only then that I realize that everyone else is done, and what’s left of my pasta has gone cold.
“Yes.” I pick the plate up, but Killian grabs my wrist, stopping me.
“Put it down, omega,” he says gently.
Confusion pulls my brows together. “Why?”
“That’s not your job,” the pack alpha says simply, and I instantly feel bad for Jeremy. This is a lot for one beta to clean up all by himself.
“I can help,” I say firmly as I stand, but Killian doesn’t release me.
“Hand it over.” Tristan takes the plate from my hand. I’m about to argue with him, when he says, “That’s my job.”
