Page 54 of Keep My Alpha

“Wren.”

“I could fix it in ten minutes, tops.”

He pinches my hip through my shirt. “You are not fixing a railing at a barbecue thrown in our honor.”

“It’s not for us. It’s a pack thing.”

“Jude literally has cue cards for a toast about us.”

I look over. Jude’s actually holding a stack of index cards, shuffling through them while Rhys stands below the bench with a hand on Jude’s calf, ready to catch him if he falls. Honestly, with Jude, that’s probably a good idea.

“I’m gonna need another beer,” I mutter.

Soren laughs against my shoulder, and I feel it all the way through my chest.

Aaron shows up with two beers, because my brother always knows when I need a drink and when to be a pain in my ass about it. “You look like you’re about to pass out,” he says, way too cheerful, and hands me a bottle. Then he turns to Soren. “Is he being weird? He’s being weird, right? He always gets weird at parties.”

“He’s being perfect,” Soren says.

“Gross,” Aaron says, making a face. “You two are disgusting. I love it. Hey Wren, did you ever tell Soren about the time you got your head stuck in a fence?”

“I was seven,” I mutter, but Aaron’s already gone, dragging Ava over by the elbow. Ava’s been his partner in crime since the Festival, and she’s already cracking up.

“A fence?” Soren says, his voice full of delight.

“I’m not telling this story.”

“You don’t have to,” Aaron calls over his shoulder. “I’ve got visual aids on my phone.”

Ava slides in next to Soren like she’s always belonged there and immediately starts telling a story about Callum getting stuck in a tire swing when he was nine. Callum’s six feet away, seasoning corn like it’s a bomb about to go off, and doesn’t even look up. “It was a regulation tire swing. The hole was smaller than advertised.”

“The hole was normal-sized,” Ava shoots back. “You were just built like a fridge by fourth grade.”

Milo shows up next to Callum with a plate of something that smells like brown butter, pressing his hip against Callum’s arm like it’s just what they do. Callum takes the plate, still focused on his corn, and drops a kiss on top of Milo’s head without missing a beat.

I watch them. All of them. Not from the outside this time. Not through a window, not across the quad, not hiding behind my workbench.

I’m right in the middle of it.

Shay comes through the back door with a clipboard and a bar towel over his shoulder, directing Diego to move a cooler and Tessa to swap the keg. Declan watches him from the grill with that look. The one where his whole face goes soft and dumb and he forgets he’s holding a spatula. I know it because I’ve been wearing it for weeks.

Shay catches Declan looking. “Stop staring and flip the burgers.”

“They’re flipped.”

“Then flip them again. I’m not serving charcoal to our pack.”

Our pack. Shay says it like it’s no big deal, like it’s always been true. Maybe for him, it has.

Jude taps his beer bottle against his index cards and clears his throat with the theatrical gravity of a man who’s been waiting for this moment his entire life. “Attention! Attention, please. Yes, that means you, Knox. Put your tongue back in your own mouth for thirty seconds.”

Knox pulls his tongue from Benji’s neck with zero shame. Benji flips Jude off without looking.

“Thank you. Beautiful. Okay.” Jude straightens on the bench, one hand on Rhys’s shoulder for balance, the other holding his beer up. The string lights catch the copper in his hair and the wild grin on his face.

“A year ago,” he says, “I downloaded a trashy hookup app because I wanted to get laid. That’s it. That was the whole plan. Get knotted, have a good time, maybe find someone whose sheets didn’t smell like a middle school locker room.” He pauses. “Low bar. I know.”

A few people laugh. Rhys shakes his head, smiling at the ground.