Page 2 of Bitter Truths

“So. Just us, then,” Weller states, his eyes dragging over me in a slow, thorough assessment.

“Just us.” The words come out softer than I intended.

Freddie stands up, practically bouncing. His scent floods the space between us, and I have to curl my fingers into my palms to resist leaning in.

“Food first,” he says, setting up the pizza boxes. “Then your gift.”

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

The look on their faces suggests they did.

I’ve known they were mine since I was thirteen. It started with Weller. He was driving me home one day, and his scent hit me like a bus. I remember digging my nails into the leather seat and biting my cheek hard enough to bleed.

Then came Freddie. Tristan. Owen.

As each one awakened, it became harder to hide my attraction. But my body remained silent, offering no proof—just the stench of my desperation.

Despite my body’s refusal to cooperate, there’s no denying they are one hundred percent mine. Fear kept me from saying anything. What if they didn’t feel the same? What if they rejected me?

Owen shifts beside me. His knee bumps mine, and the contact lights up my skin.

“You good?”

“Just thinking.” The words come out tiny, like a field mouse squeaking before hawks.

Freddie finishes his fourth slice of pizza and digs into a bag. He pulls out a vanilla cupcake with a pink candle already stuck in the top. He lights it and holds it out to me.

“Make a wish, Bumblebee,” he urges, dimples appearing as his smile widens.

I look at all four of them and wish for the same thing I’ve wished a hundred times: that they’d see me. Really see me. Not as Winston’s untouchable sister or a tagalong, but as theirs. Their omega. Their mate. Their entire world—like they are to me.

I blow out the candle.

Before I can say anything, Freddie swipes his finger through the frosting and licks it off with a grin.

Owen nudges me. “Good wish?”

“Best one yet.”

“Now for your present.” Tristan’s silky tone captures everyone’s attention as he pulls out a tiny velvet box and presents it to me.

“Oh my god.”

“This is from all of us.”

My hands won’t cooperate to open it without making me feel awkward. Inside is a gold necklace with a dainty bee charm.

“Because you’re our little bumblebee,” Freddie adds, as his knuckle grazes my arm.

“Sweet as honey,” Tristan murmurs.

“With a sting when provoked,” Owen finishes, tousling my hair and resting his hand at my nape.

“Fitting,” Weller says as if he approves of the assessment.

I swallow hard, blinking quickly to clear my vision.

“I love it. Thank you.”