Page 38 of Pack Me Up

He sees my face and tilts his head. “Overwhelming?”

“Little bit,” I admit, hands clenched in my hoodie pockets.

He smiles, gently. “Let’s start slow. One aisle at a time. You pick, I’ll carry.”

I nod, and we step together into the softness.

Fox starts with the basics, leading me down the main aisle lined with nest bases. There are thick foam pads in muted colors, modular beanbags that could swallow a grown man whole, and doughnut-shaped platforms rimmed in faux fur or chunky knits.He doesn’t pressure, just trails a half-step behind, sometimes picking up a sample and rolling it between his hands before offering it over.

After ten minutes of slow browsing, my nerves settle enough to voice what’s rattling in my chest. “I’ve never had a nest that was all mine,” I say, as we stand in front of a display of weighted blankets, each labeled by pound and color. “The hotels had them on tour, but we were always moving, and Oli offered me the one in her apartment, after she moved her stuff out, but it felt wrong.”

Saint’s smile is sad, but kind. “You get to have one now and you get to build it exactly how you want. It is all yours.”

“I want help deciding,” I say, and the twins jump into action immediately.

Colton and Cody swoop in, each with armfuls of color.

Colton says, “You have to see this pattern. They even make it in the biggest size.”

Cody steps up. “Ignore him, the thread count on these is insane. Go by feel, not the way it looks.”

Colton presses a navy-and-teal geometric throw into my arms. It’s plush, and the surface feels cool under my palms. Cody drapes a sand-colored knit over my shoulder, then doubles back to snag a cashmere blanket from the next bin over.

Hunter watches, amused, then steps in to run his fingers over both fabrics. “Which do you like better?”

I squeeze each, weighing them. The geometric is thick and striking, but the knit is softer, less aggressive on my skin. “I like this one,” I admit, stroking the knit. Cody looks smug and Colton sulks, but only for show.

“I knew you’d go neutral,” Cody says.

Colton recovers in a second, snatching a pillow from the next rack. “What about accents? You can’t just go beige, you need a pop.”

He holds up a pillow shaped like a fox. It’s bright orange, with ridiculous eyes and felt ears. I laugh, I can’t help it. “Fox should be suggesting that,” I say.

Colton winks. “We look out for our brothers, too.”

Saint appears, silent as a shadow, just behind Colton’s shoulder. “You’ve got good taste,” he says, nodding at the knit. “But don’t let them rush you. This is all yours.”

I flush, unsure what to say. I can feel the pride rolling off Saint, almost as strong as the steady alpha scent that follows him everywhere.

Hunter is further down the aisle, eyes never still, scanning the store. He leans back against a wall of display comforters and calls out, “They have weighted plushies. You should look at these.”

Fox’s head tilts, curiosity piqued. “You want to check them out?”

I nod, so we move as a unit. It’s me and Fox, the twins orbiting, Saint and Hunter covering the rear. In the plush section, the colors are more saturated, the textures even more outrageous. Colton finds a weighted shark, and Cody a gigantic octopus. Fox points out a long, pale blue snake with soft velvet scales.

I run my hand down its length, surprised at the heft and the way it makes my arm tingle. “It’s weirdly soothing,” I say, and Fox smiles like he knew I’d say that. “But I’m not sure I want a bunch of animals in my nest.”

Hunter materializes beside me, reaching past to nudge a purple weighted pillow in a C shape. “Try it like this,” he says, draping it across my shoulders.

The effect is instant: my spine relaxes, the world grows quieter, and the pressure is just right. I sigh from the comfort it brings me.

Hunter’s voice is gentle. “Some stuff just hits different. You don’t have to explain.”

He steps back, but I catch the faintest glimmer of warmth in his eyes.

We work our way through the rest, picking pillows, testing blankets, Fox encouraging me to close my eyes and imagine how each would feel in a quiet room, alone, late at night. Saint only intervenes when I look lost. Otherwise, he lets me choose, always nodding when I do.

The twins return like clockwork, each time with a new candidate for the nest.