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"Summer. Hey, pretty girl. Wake up," a tantalizing voice whispers, trying to pull me from a deep sleep.
"Go away," I grumble back and pull my blanket above my head, burrowing into the warmth. It's too early for this, my body aches all over, and I feel like I could sleep for another week. The days following a heat are always lazy days for this reason. It completely drains me.
Two masculine chuckles follow my grumpy reply. "We are, sweets. That's why we're trying to say goodbye," Maverick says, humor in his voice. That gets me up. I come off the bed like Frankenstein, eyes darting back and forth between Maverick and Hudson. Unease trickles through me.
"You're leaving?" Their smiles drop into frowns at my worried tone.
"We have to go to work. But we were hoping you'd come by the house tonight. Mason's back from his trip, and Brooklyn will be there. I'm cooking," Maverick says, and both their eyes are shining with hope. Relief courses through me.
"I'd love that," my words fervent.
"Don't say that just yet, pretty girl. You haven't seen him cook," Hudson chortles when Maverick smacks him upside the head. He leans down and presses a brief kiss to my lips. "See you tonight."
He walks toward the door, and Maverick follows suit. This kiss is a little deeper but still way too brief. "Tonight," he declares, the single word a husky promise.
"Tonight," I echo, and then they're out the door, and I flop back on the bed. I know I should get up, shower, maybe even be productive. But my body is still too physically exhausted, so I let myself snuggle back under the covers and drift back into a dreamless sleep.
Twenty-Seven
Mason
Maverick
Dinner at the house tonight. Summer's coming.
My heart stuttersin my chest at the text. Partly because it's Maverick's name that pops up. Since we're in this weird romantic limbo, every text from him feels like it's about to bethetext. The one telling me he's decided he wants to break up and devote all his time to Summer. It's a text I'm sure is coming but also dreading with every part of my being. The other half of me is thrilled I'll get to see Summer again tonight. I've missed her. Hell, I've missed them both.
Hudson
Mav's cooking.
Brooke
Hell yeah. Chicken piccata?
Maverick
Yes, Brooke.
"Mmm," I mumble, feeling drool start to pool in my mouth. His chicken piccata is a family recipe. His mom taught him, who learned it from her mom, and so on. It's almost better than an orgasm, it's that good. Better than any restaurant quality piccata I've ever had, that's for damn sure. He's definitely trying to impress Summer. As much as I'm happy she's coming over, I'm also feeling little stirrings of jealousy eat at me. Not jealous of her, but them. They invited her over after spending her heat with her, and Mav didn't even tell me. I heard from Brooke, who heard it from Hudson.Hudson.
I didn't even get a courtesy text. Not even a call to say,Hey, she went into heat. Just letting you know. Miss you.Instead, he pretended like I didn't exist. Just another indicator that we've run our course.
I would have flown back, too. Screw a hike to take pictures. My mate was inheat,and I'm the only one in this pack who has ever helped an omega through one before. If anyone was going to know what she needed, it would have been me, and I would have come back in a second.
I wonder how she's doing. The days following a heat can be brutal, too, in their own way. Her body will be physically drained and her limbs stiff and sore. Not that my old pack stuck around for the aftercare. They got what they wanted and then bolted, leaving me to check up on the omegas.
Seeing my opportunity, I perk up, grab my keys and laptop, and I'm out the door. Thirty minutes later, I call Summer. "Mason?" her voice raspy with sleep. It makes my cock stir just hearing this one simple word. But I shake off the desire because that's not what I'm here for.
"Hey, beautiful. I'm downstairs, come let me in?" There's rustling on the other end like she's tossing off her covers.
"Really?" her hopeful, excited voice soothes any jealousy I was feeling a half an hour ago. She wants me, too.
"Yeah. I missed you, and I'm not working today. Thought we could spend the day together before dinner tonight." There's a giddiness to my tone that I'm sure she can hear, but I can't seem to give a shit.
A minute later, she's pushing the door open in nothing but a pair of fuzzy slippers, a pair of sinfully short shorts that are just barely peeking out of the bottom of a baggy t-shirt. Her face is split in a huge, breathtaking smile. As soon as the door is open, I swoop in and grab her in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around before leaning in and smashing my lips to hers. I pull away when she moans and tries to deepen it.
She pouts, but I hold up the bag in answer. I came here for a reason, and I will not be sidetracked by sex when I know she's probably still recovering. "What's in the bag?" she asks curiously, squinting her eyes to try to see through the almost translucent white material.
