Page 114 of Pack Plus One

Phase One: Raid Zoe’s freezer for emergency ice cream. Eat directly from the tub with the kind of single-minded focus usually reserved for bomb defusal.

“So let me get this straight,” Zoe says, watching me excavate a pint of rocky road. “You decided you actually like them and might give them a chance. But then you went into unexpected heat, and they all helped you through it.”

“Mmhmm,” I confirm around a mouthful of chocolate and marshmallow.

“Then you stayed with them afterward?—”

“Just to recover,” I interject.

“Sure,” she says, rolling her eyes. “And during this ‘recovery period,’ you slept in their alpha’s bed—but not in their actual nest—and basically played house with them for three days.”

I stab my spoon into the ice cream with unnecessary force. “It wasn’t like that.”

“What was it like, then?”

What was it like? How do I explain what it felt like to wake up to Liam’s quiet smile, to have Mason remember exactly how I like my tea, to feel Jude’s infectious laughter loosen something tight in my chest? How do I explain Caleb’s protective hovering that somehow didn’t make me feel smothered?

“It was... nice,” I finally say, inadequately. “They were nice.”

“Nice,” Zoe repeats flatly. “You’re having an existential crisis over ‘nice.’”

“They’re not just nice,” I admit, setting down the ice cream. “They’re... they work together, Zo. Four males with their own business, their own pack dynamic. They fit. They don’t need some prickly, independent omega disrupting that.”

“Did they say that?”

I hesitate. “Not exactly. But I overheard them talking last night. About how I’m not like ‘normal’ omegas, how I don’t nest, how I’m too independent.” The words still sting, even in the retelling. “One of them literally said, ‘We need to accept that’s not who she is.’” My voice drops. “And I do nest…just…not obsessively.”

Zoe’s expression softens. “And what else did they say?”

“What?”

“What else? You heard part of a conversation, Leah. What was the context? What came before or after?”

I open my mouth, then close it again. The truth is, I don’t know. I heard enough—heard them comparing me to “normal” omegas, heard them discussing whether I was “theirs”—and then I’d backed away, unable to bear any more confirmation that I didn’t fit what they needed.

“That’s what I thought,” Zoe says, reading my expression. “You bolted before getting the full story. Classic Leah.”

“I don’t need the full story,” I insist. “I’ve heard it all before, remember? ‘You’re not pack material, Leah.’ ‘No alpha wants an omega who doesn’t know her place.’ Eric made it pretty clear.”

“Eric was an insecure knot who couldn’t handle dating someone more successful than him,” Zoe snaps. “His opinion is worth less than the gum on my shoe.”

She’s not wrong, but it doesn’t change the fact that the Le Roux pack deserves someone who fits naturally into their world. Someone who doesn’t require them to change everything about how they operate just to accommodate one stubborn omega.

I groan.

Phase Two: Queue up Pride & Prejudice, my go-to emotional support movie. “For research,” I tell Zoe when she raises an eyebrow.

“Research on what? How to misunderstand a man’s intentions due to your own prejudice?” she asks dryly. “Because that seems relevant to your current situation.”

I throw a pillow at her. “Shut up and press play.”

We make it to the hand-flexing scene—you know the one—before my phone buzzes again. I’ve been ignoring the steady stream of notifications, but this one comes with a distinctive tone. The special chime I set for bakery emergencies.

“Shit,” I mutter, diving for my phone. “I’m supposed to be at the bakery.”

The message is from my supplier, confirming a delivery of specialty flours for tomorrow morning.

Which means I need to be at the bakery early tomorrow. Which means I can’t hide at Zoe’s indefinitely.