Page 19 of Keep My Alpha

He’s quiet for a beat. Two. His thumb runs along the edge of the windowsill.

“Okay,” he says. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

***

The walk to Byrne’s feels like bringing a boy home for the first time to meet the family. , Wren’s slows down a little the closer we get, and I bump my shoulder against his arm because he’s too tall for me to reach his shoulder properly.

“They’re going to love you,” I tell him.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know them.”

Inside, our booth is packed. Jude and Rhys on one side, Benji slouched against Knox, Milo tucked under Callum’s arm, Shay sitting ramrod-straight with a spreadsheet open on his phone because apparently co-owning a bar means never having fun again ever.

“He brought the alpha!” Jude yells, practically vaulting over the table to get to me. He pulls me into a hug, then plants himself in Wren’s path, one hand stretched out like a bouncer. He’s like six inches shorter than Wren and looks ridiculous. “Wren, right? The hallway alpha.”

“Jude,” I warn.

“What? I’m being friendly.” Jude doesn’t move. He’s smiling but his eyes are hard as they sweep over Wren from head to toe. “So. You do maintenance.”

“Yeah.”

“And woodcarving.”

“Yeah.”

“And you stepped between our Soren and a handsy alpha.”

Wren’s chin comes up. “Yes.”

Jude stares at him for three more seconds, then breaks into the widest grin I’ve ever seen on him. “Okay. You can sit down. Rhys, move over.”

Rhys shakes his head, but he picks up his beer and slides down further into the booth. “Welcome to the audition.”

“It’s not an audition,” I say, pulling Wren toward the booth.

“It’s absolutely an audition,” Shay says without looking up from his phone.

Milo is already sliding a beer across the table toward Wren with both hands, like an offering to a skittish animal. “Hi. I’m Milo. Ignore all of them. How do you feel about brownies?”

“I—yeah. Brownies are good.”

“He’s so nervous,” Milo whispers to me, delighted.

“Milo. Please.”

Callum, who is clearly the only adult at the table, reaches across and shakes Wren’s hand, firm and brief. “Callum. Milo’s mate. Relax, it gets easier after the first ten minutes.”

It doesn’t get easier. It gets louder.

Jude wants to know everything: where Wren’s from, what he carved for the Festival, how long he’s been doing it, what his intentions are. He actually uses the word intentions. Benji is quieter, watching from his corner with Knox’s arm draped over his shoulders. His eyes are narrowed and suspicious-looking, and then suddenly they widen, and he pulls Knox down by his ear, whispering furiously. Knox shakes his head, looks at Wren, then at me, and his eyes also go wide. He whispers back.

I clear my throat.

Knox comes back up, and says “So!” in way too loud a voice. “The tree. What wood?”

Wren blinks. “Um, ash for the trunk. Maple for the branches and the birds. Different grain patterns give it depth.”