He drops his head and steps back, his arm extended in invitation. “My phone was on silent so I could relax. That’s my fault, and I apologize. You know the way up to the room. Paul is taking time off work and will pick Spencer up since he apparently decided to run to the store for snack-food and bottled water when Paul called earlier. I didn’t even realize he had left the house. That’s why I didn’t answer immediately when you knocked. I thought he had it. I’m going to my room now; please make yourselves comfortable out here or in the nest. I’ll try not to disturb you.” His voice is vacant, lost, devastated, and I wonder briefly what the messages could have said other than what we told him. But another bout of cramps hits before I can ask.
If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t think he wants me to ask. I don’t think he wants anything to do with me, and who could blame him? I’ve sort of invaded his house and his life this morning. His eyes look blank and lifeless as he turns abruptly. His back is tense and straight, but his shoulders are slumped, like he’s barely holding onto some big emotion, and he walks stiffly down the hall. His feet making a slow and steady rhythm up the stairs. Greg looks at me quickly, visually checking in before he rushes us inside, following the same path, but passing the closed bedroom doors on the way to the nest.
I’m momentarily distracted as he rushes into the nest by the soft click of a door shutting quietly behind us, and I want to scream and shake the small alpha for rejecting me so bluntly. My inner omega is having a meltdown about him not wanting me even while my common sense says it’s his loss. Sadly, I do like him, more than I should considering how he’s been acting. I’d be more upset if I hadn’t heard him telling his mom about his last pack, but it still hurts.
All thoughts of him fly out of my head as my focus returns to the room in front of me, and while I saw it after the paint job, it still takes my breath away now that it’s done. I think it’s done. It could use more pillows, my inner omega chirps up, finally distracted from the alpha that doesn’t want us. I struggle in Greg’s arms until he lets me loose, and my brain shuts down while my impulses take over. The blankets need to be fixed before we can have a heat here and I crawl up onto the mattress to start getting it just right.
Chapter 71
Does it make me a creep that I watch Greg carry his tiny omega into Spence’s nest and wish it was me carrying her instead? I don’t begrudge the beta; they’ve been together longer than we’ve known her, but it still hurts—my chest breaking open as Paul’s words loop through my mind.
“Spence already said she could use the nest, and he and I are going to help her through her heat. I’m not telling you to participate. It’s not my choice. Sarah says—”
I hung up before I could hear any more of the words that shatter my life, just an excuse to get rid of me. Of course she wouldn’t want me to be a part of her heat; I’m an asshole, but purposefully separating me from my pack is just hateful. And then to just stand there and act like nothing’s wrong. I honestly thought she could be…different? Better? The one? I feel like such a fool right now.
Should I wait to pack up my shit or just go ahead and start now? No…it’s probably a fluke. She’ll use them for her heat, then go home. I doubt she wants to bond with a couple of random alphas when she has a scent match back home. The poor saps are just convenient knots when she needs them.
Fucking hell, Spence is going to be devastated. Should I be upset by that, by her using my friends and then discarding them—or just be relieved that she didn’t want me too? Not that it’s all spite. Part of me feels bad that she’s hurting, truly, but it’s overshadowed by anger at how she’s treating my family. Even if they’re idiots and don’t mind. Part of me feels bad for not warning them that this is only temporary, but who knows, maybe she’ll surprise me and want to keep them. They are good guys; I wonder how they’ll like Los Angeles?
The back of my eyes burn with frustration at the pity party I’m currently throwing for myself. After a few deep breaths, I square my shoulders, grabbing a T-shirt out of the closet. I start downstairs to wait for the guys to get home so that we can talk about this. Even if she doesn’t want me to be there for her, I’m not going to abandon my packmates when she chews them up and spits them out. I don’t know if they’ll stay here or move. I don’t know if she’ll want to move here and I’ll have to find a new place. My life is in so much flux and chaos because of one small woman I’ve known less than a week, and I hate her for it. Maybe that’s not fair, but it’s how I feel.
The house is still surprisingly quiet, though Sarah’s strawberry shortcake scent has permeated the air already. It’s made my cock rock hard, and I know it’s going to stay that way for the next week if I’m in the house during her heat, even if I’m not participating. Sleeping is going to be a pain in the ass…or groin.
I’m in the kitchen, standing in front of the open freezer door and trying to get this damned erection to go down with the liberal application of a bag of frozen peas when the front dooropens and closes loudly. Spencer’s loud rumble precedes him into the room and he comes running in a moment later, his arms weighted down with bags. The smile stretched across his face is huge and excited. “Isn’t this great, Al? She wants us! We’re finally gonna be a real pack with a mate and everything!” I make a noncommittal noise as my stomach twists, threatening to eject the water I drank when I came downstairs. Did Paul not tell him this was a one-time thing or does he know something I don’t? Maybe I should have listened to the entire voicemail, but I heard enough. I’m not wanted there, end of story.
I swallow convulsively, trying to choke back my reaction so I can speak, but Spencer just plows on, oblivious to everything except the groceries he’s trying to unpack. It looks like he bought out the entire protein bar aisle at the store, and four cases of water. How the hell was he planning on running back to the house carrying four fucking cases of water? Even if we all drink only bottled water for two weeks, we wouldn’t go through all that.
“Spencer?” His head pops up over the counter from where he’s knelt down to put a box of cereal bars in the cabinet. Those don’t go there; that’s for pots and pans. The curious expression on his face would be funny in another situation where I didn’t feel like my chest was being torn open. “Why didn’t you let me know you needed to go to the store? I would have been”—my throat flexes, fighting back bile—“happy to drive you in Nadine.”
His big grin turns embarrassed. “I forgot you were here…not that you were here-here. I got really excited and just kind of ran out of the house. Otherwise, I would have taken my bike. I didn’t even think to ask. I’m sorry.” Why the hell is he apologizing? “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t contributing or something like that. But then you were here to let them into the house and nest, so it all worked out good.”
I don’t even realize I’m speaking until the question is out in the open. “So, it’s not because I’m excluded?” His eyebrows scrunch down as if he’s deep in thought. “Excluded, you know, not part of the situation.” His brows drop lower, a frown marring his usually happy countenance.
“I know you don’t like her, not like me…and I guess Paul likes her more than I thought. But omegas can be really sensitive to rejection. So…I’d appreciate it if you could be nice when you see her this week. Even if you aren’t part of her heat or any sort of relationship with her, I want us all to stay friends. Yeah? You’re important, Al, you and Paul…you’re the brothers I never had.” He waves his hands to clear the air. “I love my sisters too, but it’s not the same, you know?”
So, she’s taking away my pack, but he wants me to be friends with them all after they leave me? Well, I guess that lends credence to the theory that they’re staying here…it would be harder for them to move to Los Angeles with such a recent purchase of the house. I don’t know if I’m thankful for that or not. I don’t want them to stay just because of that. I may hate the situation, but Spencer is right, they are my family and I want them to be happy.
My voice is choked out, but his smile blazes back to life. “No problem, big guy. It doesn’t cost me anything to be polite, and I’ll be around if you or Paul need me to fetch water or snacks or anything.” I flee the room as quickly as possible before the scream that’s building in my throat breaks free. He calls my name as I bolt back up the stairs—nearly knocking Paul over in the hallway—and slam my door, turning the lock and scrambling for the bathroom just as everything I’ve eaten today makes a hasty return trip.
This next week is going to suck ass and swallow.
Chapter 72
Iwish I had been here when she got home…well, our home. Maybe she’ll want it as hers too. I mean, a guy can dream. Right?
The whole house is filled with her strawberry shortcake scent, and I’m worried I’ll make her uncomfortable if I can’t get my stupid purr under control. It started as soon as I walked in, and the damned thing just won’t stop. As much as I want to go upstairs and see what she needs, I’m currently hiding out in the kitchen, rearranging the cabinets…again…any excuse not to embarrass myself. The fact that she’s even giving us this opportunity is mind-blowing, but it’s not like she would ask us to join her heat if she wasn’t at least considering our pack for something permanent, right?
That is, of course, if she and Al can reconcile. She told Paul she wanted all of us, but not to force anybody. She knows Al hasan issue with omegas and doesn’t want him to feel obligated to join. Going out of her way to say that Al can let us know what he wants and feels most secure with, and that there’s no pressure regardless of his decision. Considering how fast he ran earlier, I’m guessing he’s still uncomfortable. I just hope she doesn’t ask for him specifically, ’cause I might have to make him come tell her no face to face, just so I’m not the one making her cry. He’s family, and he’s stuck with us, but I don’t like it when people are upset with me, so if he insists on hurting her, I won’t be a part of it.
Still, he looked a little funny? Not ha-ha funny, but kind of green. Oh, I hope he isn’t coming down with the stomach flu or something, that would be just terrible timing since he’d have to call in sick to work on Monday…of course he might need to do that anyway, even if he isn’t helping out. I’ve been at full mast since I walked inside, so he’s probably sporting at least a semi-chub from all the pheromones. That would have to be awkward in those suit pants he wears to work.
There’s really nothing left to do down here. Paul has already gone upstairs to see what she might need, and he took a couple of the cases of water and some snack bars with him. I can’t keep fucking around down here. I’m gonna make a fool of myself. Maybe I should go relieve some pressure alone so I don’t come in my pants…that’s always a mess to clean up, better to be prepared.
The door to the nest is still open when I get to the top of the stairs. It’s at the end of the hallway, but I still have to go that way to get to my room. The smell is stronger now, and it’s tinged with Paul’s boozy wood smell. This wouldn’t feel nearly so awkward if my damned chest would stop vibrating for five fucking minutes. My feet carry me past my own room. I see it happening, but they don’t seem to be in my control anymore. Everything seems to be on autopilot as I peer around the door and into the nest.
I find myself standing at the edge of the bed with no memory of walking into the room, staring in awe at the little omega. Sarah is on her hands and knees on the mattress. She keeps running her palms along the sheets, tucking darker pieces of fabric around the edges and under the pile of pillows. There are more here than just what we bought…and I immediately recognize my own Superman pillowcases stuffed into the pile, as well as Paul’s pear-colored ones. It looks like both our comforters have also been hijacked and rolled up to make a lip around the edge of the mattress. Paul and Greg stand off to one side, both already nude and covering themselves with their hands. That’s when I figure it out. She’s stuffing their clothes under the pillows and pushing them under the sides of the boarder she made with our bedding.
My stupid purring chest gets even louder, and her head pops up, turning and staring at me intently. Her pupils have completely taken over the rich chocolate color of her eyes as she looks me up and down, assessing before holding out her hands, palms up. Her fingers flex in the air like she’s waiting for something, and Paul lets out a small chuckle at what must be my flabbergasted expression before sidestepping my way, his hands still over his junk.
