Page 90

I ache to talk to Dez, to give him a chance even as my uncertainty about this pack steals my thoughts. So, I reply, pleased when he answers immediately. Like he was waiting.

Me

Thank you. The sketches are beautiful.

Dez

You’re beautiful.

The page is in your mailbox.

I want to respect your boundaries. Just know, I’m here when you’re ready.

Swoon.

We talk for a bit more before signing off. Without the distraction, I’m forced to confront the last unread text. The one that takes all the affection swirling through me and sinks it to the bottom of the sea.

Connor

Can we talk?

Just seeing his name on my screen throws my instincts into a fit. Anger, pain, fear, sadness, humiliation. For all their faults, Pack Parker taught me one valuable lesson.

Never be with a man who puts you down to make himself feel taller. Never set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.

I’m not stupid. There’s something in Connor’s past that pushed him to act the way he did. I’m just not sure it matters. If he can treat me like that when we barely know each other, who’s to say he’ll be any different once we do?

With a little squeal, my phone goes flying to the end of the bed. Nate grumbles, brow creased as he pulls me closer without waking. Like he knows I need the touch.

How can this man be in the same pack as Connor?

Where can our future when I want to put the pack lead through a woodchipper? Because having Nate with me, getting another glimpse of what it could be like to have a partner who cares, healed something I’ve been ignoring. Reincarnated this desire I squashed and destroyed over years of mistreatment.

I want Nate and Dez. I feel safe with them in a way I never have before, a way that has me debating courtship when I said I’d never do it again. But they’re a package deal. Wanting them means taking Connor too, for all his wishy-washy ways.

Can I accept that he’s a flawed human and move forward, as friends or something else, or do I let this fuckup taint the possibility of a relationship that I can actually see lasting?

My fears about courtship mingle with this new stress until my insides are so chaotic, I can’t decide if screaming or puking is the best option. When my alarm goes off, it’s a blessing even as Nate squirms and groans about it being too early.

Everything’s too fresh to unpack, but there’s more than enough at Nymph to keep me busy. I don’t need to give Connor Morgan any more of my time.

After a standoff in my kitchen that includes both stern alpha voice and puppy eyes, I allow Nate to drive me to Nymph. His instincts are restless, positive I’m going to run again.

Is it terrible that I kind of like how possessive he is?

Probably, but whatever.

Before we leave, I snatch Dez’s sketch from the mailbox and keep it close, huffing the page like a maniac but it makes me feel better. Calmer and more balanced than I did last night. Maybe I’ll actually be productive today.

After refusing to let Nate inside, I hand over a spare key for my place in case he isn’t ready to go home yet. You’d think I give him a fucking engagement ring with how bright he smiles. Adorable.

Hours later, I’m neck deep in plaster and dirt, sketches tucked in a pocket, when I see three beautiful omegas and one stoic beta standing outside my door with matching expressions and…

“What the fuck?” Flipping the lock, I usher them inside, warily eyeing Mellie.

High-waisted grey shorts and a cropped t-shirt sit comfortably on her curvy, petite frame, her flame-ombre hair tied up in messy space buns. Freshly done nails wrap around the handle of a bedazzled sledgehammer slung over her shoulder.

“Who gave you a weapon?” I ask.