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He digresses.

At any rate, all the upheaval has Rowan craving Luca’s predictable, pants-loathing, constantly-singing beta behavior.

It helps that he and Nix are almost inseparable, like the cosmic-zodiac-twins they are.

Seriously.

They’d done some math and discovered they were born at the same minute, Luca in Nashville and Nix in Clearwater.

Maybe that’s why Rowan’s wolf likes him almost as much as he does Nix.

Not in the same chemically-dependent, constantly lustful way, but in a calm, comfortable, soothing way. Like the same, but opposite.

Rowan’s not sure that it makes sense, exactly, but it does to the wolf.

Or maybe it’s because he smells like Nix 99.99% of the time.

Yeah, maybe it’s that.

“What time is it?” Rowan inquires, suddenly struck by the position of the sun and Gideon standing in the kitchen with a flat, hard-plastic case no bigger than a small shoebox.

It must be time for Nix to wake up hungry, since the wolf had propelled him out of bed and into the kitchen for food. It’s been very reliable at predicting his omega’s needs for sustenance in the past sixteen weeks.

He eyes the box again and thinks it must be important if Gideon’s busy with it this early.

“What’s that?”

“Something for later. Don’t worry about it now, it’s almost 7:00 a.m.. I can make Nix something for breakfast?” Gideon quickly suggests, and Rowan feels like he’s missing something important, but he’s also grateful that he’s dodged a bullet from his rude behavior earlier, sohe lets it slide.

Rowan has always been smart enough to choose the path of least resistance. Especially when it comes to Gideon Carnell.

“I suspect it won’t be the same as you foraging for it, but it’s got to be better than granola bars and yogurt.”

It won’t be the same, and Rowan has never hated his lack of expertise in the kitchen more than at that moment. He smells his own self-loathing in the sharp alcohol scent he’s leaking out in distress.

He almost misses Gideon’s nonchalant, “I could teach you? If you wanted?”

Learn how to feed his mate nutritious food? Grow his babies with more than cookies and granola? Yes, please. The wolf spins in circles with glee. “Yeah?”

“Sure. I know your mom showed you how to crack eggs. I’ll teach you how to cook bacon and make French toast. We can even have syrup and berries.”

He thinks for a minute about whether Nix will like the offered menu, but even once he receives aGOsignal from the wolf, he hesitates.

“I don’t know…I don’t want to fuck it up.”

The anxiety is his own; he doesn’t want his pregnant mate to see him as incompetent.

“You can do it, but it doesn’t have to be perfect. Besides, if you fuck it up I won’t tell if you won’t. Get that baking sheet out from up there. Add some parchment paper and turn the oven on to 400°F.”

For the next thirty minutes, Gideon shows Rowan that he can make bacon in the oven, crack a dozen eggs, and add cinnamon to make French toast. He gets some of the spice up his nose, and it tickles his throat.

It reminds him of the sleeping Leo, who hadn’t left Finn once since they’d arrived. The others had been in and out, but not Leo.

“Gid?” Rowan asks as he moves the crisp bacon from the baking sheet to a paper towel-lined plate.

“Hmmm?”

“Will Leo be okay? His being angry when we got here…it makes my wolf feel off.”