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An arm bands around my shoulders and Dylan pulls me against him, my back pressing into his front, and I try to ignore how wonderful it feels. “Defending my honor from the big bad wolf?” he purrs into my ear. “Little omega, I’m touched.”
“Don’t read into it,” I say, a little breathless.
“Let her go,” Brady demands.
“Why?” Dylan asks.
My throat clenches as Austin, Dylan, and I all wait for Brady to confess the truth. The oldest brother clenches his jaw, glares at me, then at Dylan, before turning and storming away.
“He needs to get laid,” Dylan whispers into my ear.
“You’re disgusting,” I tell him, extracting myself from his hold for the second time to preserve my own sanity. Once I’m far enough away, I take a breath and study the two brothers. Austin doesn’t give much away, but Dylan... There’s a little bit of chaos in his gaze, like he’s ready to cross all the lines, even though he has no idea what it would mean. “What now?”
“There’s usually an after-party, but I don’t feel like going.” Dylan stretches his arms overhead, and I force myself to look away from that pure ab porn.
Where is his shirt?
“Hot tub and beer?” Austin asks.
Dylan nods. “You game, Quinn?”
“Uh.” That sounds like a terrible idea. As much as I’d love the excuse to ogle them in swimsuits, I’m not trying to torture myself. “Actually, I just remembered I have to study for an exam.”
“Is that so?” Dylan asks, and I can practically hear him accusing me of being a liar. He knows I don’t have any tests left and that it’s just an excuse.
But that’s okay with me. I’ll continue hiding the truth if it means ensuring my mom doesn’t come back from her trip to learn I’ve ruined the family.
Twenty-Eight
QUINN
For two days, outside of desperately trying to find an internship, all I can think about is the way Dylan wrapped his arm around me. Luckily, I work at the beach on Saturday and Sunday and miss running into the guys, for the most part. Dylan’s fight was amazing, and I should have hung out with him after, but the more they invite me to be a part of their trio, the harder it is for me to be at ease. The harder it is for me to remember my place.
We’re family.
Not a pack.
It’s Monday, and the house is once again blessedly empty. My phone rings for the third time as I climb out of the shower. I frown at it and wrap the towel around myself before grabbing the device. Mom. FaceTime. I answer the call via audio.
“Hey, I need to grab a robe.”
“Quinn, baby! How’s everything going?”
Horrible. Awful. I totally masturbated to the thought of your stepsons, and I may or may not be losing my mind. “It’s great. How’s the trip?” I trade out my towel and shrug on the fluffy blue robe—the same shade of blue as Austin’s eyes—andsecure it around my waist before dropping onto the bed and clicking into the video feed.
Mom’s smiling face appears a moment later. “There’s my pretty girl! Oh, Quinn. You should see the architecture and the food! Your stepdads have been spoiling me.” She’s practically glowing, and a soft grin tugs at my lips.
“I’m so happy you’re having fun. Have you gone dancing yet?”
She gushes about all the nights out and the music. I try to listen, but my mind begins to stray down a dark path. I’ll never have what she has. This pure love and happiness. Eventually, I might end up with a pack, but it won’t be enough. I’ll always have this secret and it’ll eat me alive.
“Quinn, honey. What’s wrong?”
I shake myself. Mom’s face is lined with concern, and she’s brought the camera closer to her face, studying me.
“Quinn?”
“Nothing, sorry. I’m tired.”
