The late morning sun is filtering in through the sheer curtains that cover the floor-to-ceiling windows and hide the view of downtown Manhattan. The warm light settles softly on the dark hardwood floors. The TV's on, with the final episode of Lauren's season ofHeat Helpersplaying, drowning out the faint sounds of the city that slip past the double-glazing. Lauren's first post-heat interview is on the screen, her voice lilting in her movie-star purr.
Ralph, James and Allen are away on location, supporting Pack Zed while they film their new season. I've told them theybetter be ready for me reclaiming my pack when they get home, but Ralph assures me they're all making sure they still smell like each other when they aren't dealing with laundry or low supplies or treating minor injuries. Allen told me one night during our call that I don't need to claim them for them to be mine, which made me feel way better than I thought it would.
"… whilst I always had the utmost faith in Pack Zed, it was… hard to let go of old wounds. To be honest, I put off my heat rather longer than I should have as a result. But knowing that my supporters were being supported like the professional caregivers they are, just gave me that little bit more… confidence in the whole thing, I think? If people are treated like professionals, I suppose it's much easier to act like one."
She looks away from the camera, then looks down, like she's let slip more than she meant to.
God, she's good.
The show cuts to Zeke's final interview. He squirms uncomfortably and mutes the television. "I didn't say anything that would affect your socials," he mutters. "And I still can't believe they insisted on making so much merch with my face on it."
"That merch single-handedly funded the case to allow heat support workers to make workers' comp claims. So thank you for letting them." He huffs an embarrassed sigh, but I can feel his pride radiating through the bond alongside his shyness.
They both jump as the door bursts open. Zeke's face stiffens into a wooden expression.
"Ezekiel! Sebastian! You bothpromisedyou would wait until I got back so we could finish the episode together. I'm disappointed in both of you." Johanna strides through the door, plopping the tray of coffees on the table and slumping down into her favourite armchair in a huff. "Not you, Adeline. Sorry, dear.Dellie," she adds as an afterthought. "I know you've been flat out planning the gala."
She sighs, and passes each of us a coffee.
I let a little hint of smugness slip through into their bonds. Seb rolls his eyes.
"You and your pack are still coming, right, Jo? Second Friday of next month?"
She grins at me. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. Supporter Support is doing such great things. Even if you weren't my boy's omega, it's still a very important cause. Oh, but a few of my friends couldn't make it over from LA—"
I wave my hand. "Thanks so much for trying, Jo. It's so thoughtful of you."
She clears her throat. "So I got them to write cheques that would have covered their entry tickets, as well as what I know would have been averygenerous donation. And the cost of their new designer dresses they would have bought to go. And shoes and tuxedos and whatnot."
I laugh, sipping my coffee, and pull myself up off the couch. The belly makes it a little awkward, so Seb helps pull me up. I wince as I'm jabbed in the bladder by a rogue elbow—or maybe a knee? I can never tell. I waddle over to Johanna and hug her around the shoulders.
"Really, Jo. Thank you."
She pats my arm. "You're welcome, Dellie. I'm just so pleased… well, with everything. And I can'twaitto finally meet this Lauren you've all told me so much about. She's promised to make sure we're on the same table."
My face freezes. Seb snorts and Zeke looks away, our bond radiating humour.
My mouth opens and closes silently as I try and think of what to say. Seb's smug satisfaction in the bond makes it hard not to burst out laughing.
My phone rings.
Saved by the bell.
"Trix? Hi, what's up?"
"Um, heyyyyy, Dellie." My sister's voice sounds worried.
"You okay? What's wrong? Did Patrick Townsend have another go at you about that post on the omega PA subreddit—"
"No, all quiet on that front for months now. But… um. So… uh… Oversteeped told me I should just tell Loz, but I don't know how to…"
"… Trix? Tell Loz what?" I can feel a growl creeping into my voice.
"I… uh, may have screwed up a little…"
I frown slightly. "Is anyone dead?"
There's a pause. "Uh. No. Well… not yet?"
