Yum yum...
Ash is at the counter with a row of toast and three open mason jars, sleeves rolled, spreading a different batch of what looks like special butter onto each slice, cutting them on the diagonal.
Bram looks up first. “There she is.” The smile reaches all the way up into the crinkles. “Have a seat. You’ve been on your feet since six.”
Ash comes around the counter instead, a piece of toast held out on a plate. “Try this.”
I take a bite. My god. It tastes like... apple butter. With cinnamon up front and something smokier underneath. The second bite happens entirely by reflex.
“That’s gooood,” I say, mouth still full.
“I’ll take gooood over good,” he chuckles, then winks.
I wave the toast at the couch fort, the blanket tower, all of it. “So what is all this?”
“Movie night.” Bram tips the pot so I can see popcorn to the brim inside. “You’ve got time to shower, get comfortable, whatever you like. Then we pick a movie and chill.”
“Yaaay,” Reed announces from inside the couch fort, already horizontal. “I love me a good movie. Or three.”
I stand there one beat longer than necessary, toast in hand, taking it in. Popcorn. Apple butter. Three alphas and a fort built out many blankets—for me, no doubt.
I could really get used to this.
***
By the time I shut the water off, I’m a much cleaner animal than the one who got in.
Then, I stand in front of my dresser, loungewear, right now, feeling like a high-stakes decision. I settle on the soft plaid sleep shorts and the cream knit sweater. It slides off one shoulder no matter what my shoulder does about it, but it’s cute. I leave my hair, which is still a little damp at the ends, down and head downstairs.
Bram straightens up from the coffee table with two popcorn bowls and forgets to set either of them down. Reed’s head appears over the back of the couch fort, followed by a low whistle. Ash just looks, his eyes wide, his glass of cider gone still in his hand.
“Well,” Reed says. “The movie’s gonna have some real stiff competition.”
Heat climbs up my neck, the good kind. I feel pretty. Seen.
“Easy, boys,” I say, and come the rest of the way into the room before my smile gives me away.
I come face to face with the couch fort and stop, suddenly realizing the cushions are wedged into the seam at careless angles, the blankets are stacked instead of layered, and the whole arrangement has clearly been assembled by alphas who think a fort is a structural problem instead of a—well, I don’t have the word for what it actually is, but my hands are already moving.
I kneel on the cushions and get to work. Re-wedge the seam so there’s no gap. Shake the blankets out and layer them, heaviest on the bottom, the soft fleece on top where a cheek might land. And stand the spare pillows up along the backrest in an overlapping row.
I sit back on my heels and look at what I’ve made.
Huh.
That is a nest. A starter nest, anyway. On their couch. Built on autopilot in under four minutes.
Which makes me realize... Am I nesting? Because that can be an impending heat sign... except, no, mine isn’t due for another three months. Maybe wanting to be warm and burrowed-in with my alphas is just a scent-match thing.
My alphas. I sit with the phrase for a moment. A week ago, it would have set off every alarm in my head. Today, it just warms me from the inside out.
“Damn,” Bram says, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. “Nowthatlooks comfy.”
“Way better,” Reed agrees.
Ash crouches down, handing me a glass of cider. “Makes me wanna snuggle already,” he murmurs, his eyes locking onto mine.
Deep down, my omega preens under the absolute approval of her alphas.
