I hold up a hand to stop him from coming over and plucking my bags from where they hang, able to read the man’s mind. There's something so satisfying about carrying all the bags at once, and I'm not ready to part with my treasures because today feels so light and airy compared to everything a few months ago.
I want to embrace normality and bask in it. Things I have taken for granted before, even ridiculous things, suddenly feel precious, like the little red dents left on my forearms by a glorious day of frivolity.
My mouth opens to protest, but then I snap it shut because, dammit, I think she's right.
I spin on my heels and search for the male in question, but I fail to spot him because the guys have fanned out today to go "just check on something”—their very smooth, subtle, unobvious way of sneaking off to shop for me.
They are so adorably clueless sometimes.
Technically, we're here at the mall to buy Teddie a gift—a revelation that I still can't quite get over because I wasn't certain my brother would reach this birthday.
But he's so much better.
Actually fucking healing.
It's slower than we hoped for, per Doctor Tamara, but his case was extreme. He’s dragged himself back from the brink. Everytime I even think about it, my chest grows tight with old anxiety and then releases in relief.
Having him here on our shared birthday is the best gift I could ever receive.
Of course my mates have loudly and repeatedly insisted that'snot a gift and doesn't count. They've spent endless hours pestering me for information about clothing and gemstones and favorite flavors…
Secretly, a part of me dances on tiptoe whenever they ask me about my likes and dislikes. Luka nerdily opens the notes app in his phone and types in it; Ridge leans forward as he listens, cupping his chin in his hand and staring intensely; Kylian will repeat it all back to me with a tongue click and a "We got this;" and Colter will lean down until his mask brushes against my ear and whisper, "Is that all? Give us more."
In fact, though the birthday that Ted and I share isn't until next week, the guys have already started slipping me presents. Some have been breathtakingly spectacular.
Like the new camouflage fatigues and body armor sized just for me. My brother has given us his blessing to go out on missions together. I'm officially joining Alpha Team X. And I get to go as myself now, which engenders equal parts elation and staggering responsibility.
I'll be the first omega ever officially appointed to our military. And I'll have to do an amazing job to ensure all those omegas who dream of following in my footsteps can.
It's a heady weight, and I feel vastly underprepared for it, like I’ve cobbled together a meager homemade life raft and amabout to set sail on the ocean. But I won't be alone, and that makes all the difference.
My men know how seriously I take that appointment, and their thoughtful present was the first item they gave me. I probably cried for an hour afterward—and not the pretty kind of crying, but the type of sobs that claw your chest apart—as they each took turns holding me in their arms.
They followed it up a few days later with a bouquet of random mismatched flowers that recalls the hodgepodge they first gave me. It sits in a vase on a table in our entryway, and I can’t help but smile each time we come back to our wing of the castle and I see it.
Last night, my alphas also tried singing "Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman" by Bryan Adams. By all musical accounts, it was an utter disaster. Ridge kept going flat, Luka kept snapping at the others to try to keep them on time, Kylian kept trying to make a heartfelt song into heavy metal for some unknown reason, and Colter's voice was barely above a whisper.
But, somehow, my chest had still swollen until the dam of emotion broke, and soft joy spilled from my eyes.
Gosh, they make me cry a lot these days.
Even now, as I stand here thinking about them, my bones soften and my chest warms as I replay their barbershop quartet-style mishap in my head. My eyes gloss, and I swipe at them because it would be horribly embarrassing to have my eyeliner run over nothing. Especially since I'm wearing a short, flirty coral dress in an attempt to look cute today.
But when I think about the fact that my tears are all now for happy reasons, that just makes more appear. My mates aresunlight bursting through this cloudy storm I’ve endured for so many years. And I adore the sweet, utterly thoughtful effort that they seem to put into every single day. Their devotion to my dreams and to making me know that I'm seen and loved for who I am.
It's so profoundly beautiful in a way that defies description. My chest grows taut as gratitude rumbles through it.
Shit. There go the waterworks.
I have to drag out a tissue from my purse and dab away a quick burst of silent tears that quickly soak my cheeks because I’m literally so full of happiness that it apparently leaks out of me now, soft and sweet as spring rain. Luckily, Harper's studying the menu, and Colter is slightly behind me so he can't see what a fool I'm making of myself.
With a breath, I get it together, and we glide forward in line. A shaft of sunlight hits my hair. Dust motes dance inside it, and I feel stupidly like I can relate to that flickering swirl. A swaying opalescent emotion rises through me.
Warm.
I'm suddenly very warm.
My breasts grow heavy, and my lungs start to tighten as my breathing shallows. Sliding sideways on my low heels, I try to get out of that patch of sun. But the heat doesn't seem to decrease once I'm next to Harper. Instead, my cheeks start to roast, and a sinuous sensation twines down my spine, leaving trailing prickles in its wake.
