Page 27 of How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates

Jace

I don’t follow Wes. Not because I don’t want to lay him out for what he just said—because I do—but because Aimee walked out of the room looking like someone had yanked the ground from under her, and she needs me.

Cam stays frozen in the kitchen, fists clenched, jaw tight. I get that it’s harder for him. Pack is pack, so of course I feel a little torn, but they’re brother’s , so he’s bound to feel even more stuck in the middle.

I’ll deal with Wes later. For now, I head upstairs.

The door to Aimee’s room is mostly closed, but the soft click of the handle feels louder than it should. I step in quietly. She’s not crying, exactly, but she’s curled up on her side on the bed, one arm tucked under her head, the other gripping the edge of the blanket.

She looks small and tired; as if whatever spark she walked in with has dulled at the edges.

“Hey,” I say softly, closing the door behind me. “Mind if I come in?”

She doesn’t look up, but she nods. I toe off my shoes and walk over, easing myself down behind her. She shifts just enough to let me in, and I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her back against my chest and breathing in the faint twinge of her scent.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur into her hair.

She doesn’t say anything for a long, drawn out moment. Then, finally: “He hates me.”

“No,” I tell her automatically. “He’s jealous. And a dick.”

“He’s just so angry, ” she says as she lets out a tired, not-quite-laugh. “I thought we could get past this. I really did.”

“We can get past it,” I say firmly, because I need her to believe it. “We will. Cam’s on your side. I’m on your side. And Wes… Look, things are kind of raw for him right now. It’s a lot. He just needs time, and then he’ll come around.”

She twists just slightly to look up at me. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

She sighs deeply, then hesitates. “I didn’t think it would be such a big deal,” she says, her tone full of innocence.

“I was just trying to get myself comfortable in a new place. I didn’t think anyone would really care about where I put the eggs, or the color of the pasta water. It was just supposed to be fun.”

“It is fun,” I insist, squeezing her a little tighter.

“Look; when it was just the three of us, the house worked. But it was boring. Beige. Too quiet. But then you’ve come along, and suddenly there’s color, everywhere.

A lot of pink. Which isn’t a bad thing! We’ve even got towels that match now, and the spice rack has… vibes , apparently.”

She lets out a small huff.

“And yeah, it’s maybe been a little extreme at times,” I add gently. I feel her tense immediately, so I continue quickly. “ But ! You’re an omega. I’ve never lived with one before, so I don’t know what’s normal and what’s not. Maybe pink protein pasta is a love language.”

She laughs properly for the first time since Wes opened his damn mouth, and I relax around her.

God, I love that sound. And I really love having her here.

“I thought it might be funny,” she explains, her voice small. “I thought… if I can’t fix things with him, I could at least make him laugh.”

I sigh. “He doesn’t deserve that much effort from you.”

She sniffs, then pauses. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” I say, holding her tighter. “Because you deserve better than what he said. You’re not manipulative. You’re not a problem. You’re part of this pack.”

“You mean that?” she asks. “Even if we’re not bonded yet?”

“ Especially then,” I say. “I never thought that going on that dating app would actually do much for us as a pack, but… But now I believe it. You’re our scent match, Aims. And we don’t need an official bond to know it’s right. You’re mine. Ours . That won’t change.”

She presses her face into my chest. “Thank you.”

“I’ve got you,” I murmur, nuzzling into her hair. “Always.”

We lie there for a while, her body tucked against mine, our hands laced together. I can feel her breath slow, her heart still fluttering but steadier now, and I press another kiss to the top of her head as I let my eyes close.

The door creaks open gently a few minutes later. I don’t need to look up to know it’s Cam.

I hear the soft thud of his boots coming off, the quiet sigh as he steps inside. There’s a pause as though he’s waiting for permission, even though he doesn’t need it.

“She’s okay,” I murmur, just loud enough for him to hear. “We’re just resting.”

He nods, then crosses the room and climbs onto the other side of the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, and a second later, one of his big arms slides around her waist, his body curling up behind hers.

Aimee lets out the softest little sigh, like the tension’s melting from her bones. Her fingers grip mine just a little tighter.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi,” Cam says quietly, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Sorry I took so long.”

“It’s okay,” she breathes. “You’re here now.”

He rests his forehead gently against the back of her neck. I feel the way her body relaxes completely between us, warm and safe; and yeah—this is new.

We’ve never done this before, the three of us in one bed, holding each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world. But it is . There’s nothing weird about it, nothing that doesn’t feel exactly, completely right. She’s ours, we’re hers, and this —this is pack.

“I wanted to punch him,” Cam mutters. “I still do.”

“I know,” I say. “Same.”

“I didn’t think he’d go that far,” Cam admits. “Not to her . Not like that.”

I feel her shift a little, almost as though she’s trying to make herself smaller.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Aims,” Cam says, soft but firm. “You made this place better the second you walked in. You’ve made us better.”

“I just wanted to fit,” she whispers. “And I… I wanted you to want me here.”

“We do,” I say immediately.

Cam nods against her. “We do. So much it scares the hell out of me.”

She sniffs. “Even if I keep putting things in the wrong cupboards?”

Cam huffs a quiet laugh against her neck. “Even then.”

“Even if I make glitter pasta again?”

“I’ll eat it,” I say, grinning. “Cam’ll pretend to like it. We’ll both survive.”

She lets out a soft, slightly teary laugh and wipes at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie.

“You guys are too good to me.”

“No,” Cam murmurs. “We’re just good for you.”

She nestles in closer, completely surrounded now, our pack forming around her like muscle memory, like instinct. And even though none of us say it out loud, I know we all feel it.

We’re hers, and she’s ours.

…Even if there is one missing link.