Page 46 of How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates
Wes
O ne of the interns told me I looked radiant this morning.
Radiant . As if I’m featuring in a fucking skincare commercial. As though I'm the kind of alpha who would've spent the weekend doing yoga in a lavender field instead of helping my scent-matched omega through a feral heat with two other alphas.
I didn’t even snap at her in response; which, in itself, is proof that I’m evolving emotionally. (Or possibly concussed.)
Either way—she’s right. I am happy. And it’s still pissing me off, just a little.
If you’d asked me six weeks ago, I’d have sworn Aimee was the worst mistake of my life.
My crazy ex, and the walking, talking, omega equivalent of a glitter bomb in a court filing.
Now, I’m brushing imaginary lint off my suit jacket because I give a shit about how I look when I get home to her: the woman I love.
Unbelievable.
I leave the office a little early—which is the perk of being a partner and not caring what anyone thinks—and walk to my car is just long enough for my phone to buzz with a message from my father.
It’s a photo of him and Celeste, his latest omega, standing on a beach. He’s shirtless, and she’s holding up her left hand.
We’re engaged!!! Hope you’re not too jealous, Wes ;)
I stare at the screen for a long beat, then I lock it and shove the phone in my pocket.
For once, nothing inside me moves. There’s no rage or sadness, not even any resentment, really. Instead, for the first time in a long time, I feel content with the decision that my father can live out his own fantasy.
I didn’t need him to be able to build something different, something real ; and I’m sure as hell not giving it up for anyone.
*
When I walk through the door of the house, it smells like the best thing I’ve ever known.
It’s not just Aimee’s scent—though that’s there too—but it’s home .
Warm food and laughter. Socks in the hallway and some kind of blanket fort half-collapsed in the corner of the living room.
The walls of this pack house are full of chaos and stability, heavily influenced by one omega who has wrecked us all in the best possible way.
Jace is in the kitchen, while Cam’s curled up on the sofa with Aimee in his lap, both of them wearing matching socks and trying to untangle the world’s most aggressively knotted phone charger.
“Hey,” I say, dropping my keys in the bowl.
Aimee turns toward me with that sleepy, soft look that still punches me straight in the gut.
“You’re home,” she smiles.
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” I say, toeing off my shoes. “Smells like you’ve only started one small fire.”
Cam lifts a hand. “It was contained.”
“ Mostly ,” Jace calls from the kitchen.
I make my way over and drop a kiss to the top of Aimee’s head. She leans into it like it’s instinct. Maybe it is.
“You look smug,” she murmurs, tugging gently at my tie.
“Do I?” I hum. “Must be the radiant thing.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, swiping a grape from Cam’s plate on the coffee table and popping it in my mouth.
Jace appears in the kitchen doorway, shirtless with a tea towel slung over his shoulder. “We were just talking.”
Cam, still half-reclined on the couch, lifts his hand. “Pack stuff.”
My eyes narrow. “That sounds vague .”
Aimee shifts a little in Cam’s lap, her fingers still tangled in his. She meets my gaze, calm and steady, but her cheeks are flushed and her voice is softer than usual when she says, “About… claiming.”
Silence passes between us for a long few seconds, then Jace clears his throat.
“Aimee brought it up,” he says. “We weren’t pushing, I swear.”
She rolls her eyes. “He’s right. They all went full Alpha Code of Conduct on me.”
Cam huffs a quiet laugh, then leans in to kiss her shoulder. “We just wanted to be sure that it’s what you want, not what you think we need.”
“It is,” she says firmly, then looks at each of us one by one. “It’s what I want. I don’t want half-measures, or almosts; I want to be bonded. Fully . I want marks that say I belong here, with all three of you.”
I sit down across from her, slowly.
“You’re sure about this?”
I don’t ask it because I doubt her; but because I need to hear it one more time.
Aimee smiles as she nods. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she says, her voice a little breathless. “You’re it for me.”
Jace exhales hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been ready since she nested in my hoodie, man. I’m not pretending I haven’t rehearsed this.”
Cam laughs. “Yeah, he tried a speech in the mirror last week.”
“ Wrong. ” Jace shoots him a glare. “I was brushing my teeth.”
Aimee leans into Cam and tugs him down so she can kiss the underside of his jaw. “You ready?”
He grins. “I’ve been emotionally monogamous since you ate all my cereal.”
“I replaced it,” she argues.
“With granola , Aims. It’s not the same thing.”
“Hey! I’m health-conscious, alright.”
“...You bought it because it had chocolate chips.”
“Right. And I stand by that decision.”
We’re all laughing now, but there’s something else beneath it—something heavier, something steadier.
“Do we want to wait?” Jace asks quietly, leaning against the doorframe. “Plan something? Make it a thing?”
“No,” Aimee says immediately. “I don’t want fanfare; I just want you. And… And I want it soon.”
“Soon?” Cam repeats.
Aimee bites down on her bottom lip, then shrugs her shoulders. “I mean… Yeah. Why not?”
My chest tightens, but not with dread: with something heavier . Hope, maybe. The kind that sneaks up on you after years of telling yourself you’re not allowed to want this.
I’ve spent months, years convincing myself that Aimee Saunders was a mistake; and now she’s sitting here, wrapped in Cam’s arms with her big dark eyes locked on mine, looking more certain than I’ve ever seen her.
“You sure you really want this?” I clear my throat. “All of us, all at once?”
She doesn’t flinch. “I am absolutely sure, Wes. You don’t need to worry—I wouldn’t be saying it if I didn’t mean it. I don’t want ‘almost’. I want everything .”
The thing with Aimee is this: she knows me too damn well, and I also know her. Which means I know that this isn’t a heat-high, or a whim, or a way to fix something broken; this is her honestly, truly choosing us. Choosing me .
It hits me all at once—how badly I want this. How long I’ve wanted it without admitting it.
Cam gives a soft little whistle, the kind he does when he’s overwhelmed and trying to play it cool.
“Well. That settles it. For me, anyway.” He beams down at her, all dimples and affection, and presses a kiss to her temple.
“You already feel like home, Aims. Mark or not. But if this is what you want…”
“It is,” she says gently, reaching up to brush her fingers across his jaw. “You were the first one I ever trusted to stay.”
Jace groans dramatically, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. “Okay, well, now I need to emotionally prepare. Maybe trim. Possibly exfoliate.”
Aimee snorts. “You’re exfoliating for a claiming?”
He lifts his brows. “I’m not showing up to my girl’s lifelong bite-fest with rough elbows. I have standards.”
Cam blinks. “You do?”
“Don’t act surprised. I moisturize. Religiously .”
“I know,” I mutter. “You labeled the products.”
Aimee grins and shifts slightly to look at me again, and god help me, I melt under it. “Wes?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah?”
“I mean it,” she says, her smile softening. “I want this.”
I inhale, then nod slowly. “Alright. Then yeah. Let’s do it.”
“ Excellent ,” Jace says, straightening against the door. “I have candles somewhere. Do we need ambiance? Should I make a playlist?”
Aimee squints. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh come on, don’t pretend like you wouldn’t want to be claimed to a moody alt-rock banger.”
“Oh my god ,” I groan. “Please never say those words in a sentence ever again.”
“What?” Jace’s grin is feral. “You’re telling me you don’t want to rock out during Operation: Bite Our Girl ?”
My face pales. “We are not calling it that.”
“Too late.” Cam’s already wheezing. “I just renamed the group chat.”
Aimee lets out a laugh so full it echoes through the house; and right then, watching her tucked between us, glowing with something more than just joy—something that feels like belonging—I know I’m done fighting it.
It turns out she’s not the storm after all. She’s the thing I survived the storm for .
And tonight, we make her ours.