Page 40 of Pack Me Up

I settle into the back with Fox beside me and Hunter sprawled across the far seat. The twins pack into the middle, Colton cracking jokes.

We drive, music on low, the city rolling past. I curl up under a blanket, the weighted pillow across my lap, and listen to the muffled banter up front. Colton and Cody are still arguing over thread count, with Hunter chiming in with the occasional one-liner. Saint glances back every so often, checking on me through the mirror, and every time he does, I smile.

Fox slides his hand over mine, palm warm and steady, fingers threading through, and I grip back.

Hunter’s arm comes up behind my shoulders, loose but protective. He smells like eucalyptus and peppermint, and it grounds me.

The car is full of their scents, their voices, and the promise of safety.

I close my eyes. I believe this is real, this nest, these people, and this weird, fantastic future we are building.

The city slides by in a gentle blur. The mood is soft and full. Hunter puts on a playlist of my songs, but I don’t call it out, and the sound fills the car, layering over the hum of the engine.

Brittney

PACK EM UP GOSSIP COLUMN

MYSTERIOUS ALPHAS WITH BRITTNEY RYAN IDENTIFIED AS HER SECURITY

April 25th

Aknock on the basement door pulls me away from the sheet music I’m writing. I scribble the last note on my mind before shouting, “Come in.”

When Saint comes in, he’s less awkward than the last time he came into my room like this.

He’s been distant from the moment I met him. Not mean or cold, just distant. However, after our conversation yesterday, I see his effort and appreciate it.

“Oli is here to see you,” he tells me with a smile.

I jump up immediately. “Thanks for getting me.”

When I go to walk past him, Saint pulls me into his body. I can feel every ridge of his muscles as he presses a kiss to my forehead. I melt into his arms before I pull myself away with a smile.

“She’s at the front door,” Saint yells after me, and I rush up there, not wanting to keep her waiting.

When I get to the door, Oli is standing there, dressed down in an oversized hoodie that probably belongs to one of her mates and leggings with her hair piled up in a rose-gold cloud.

“Hey, Britt,” she says, voice low. “Can I chat with you somewhere private?”

“Yeah,” I say, not sure what she’s doing here.

Has she decided it’s too risky to have me on her tour?

I pull her into the study next to the living room and shut the door behind us.

She slips past me, eyes flicking over the room. She doesn’t comment, just perches on the edge of the couch with hands clasped tight in her lap.

For a second, I don’t know what to do with myself. I hover by the door, fingers worrying at a loose thread in my sleeve, waiting for her to make the first move.

She does. “I know you’re still settling in,” she says, meeting my eyes with a seriousness that makes my pulse skip. “But I need to talk to you about something.”

My stomach sinks. “Is it the tour?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s… not about the tour. It’s about you. Omega stuff.” The last two words are barely above a whisper, and her cheeks flush pink, visible even under the cloud of hair.

I feel my spine stiffen. “Okay,” I say, and sit cross-legged on the couch, facing her.

Oli lets out a breath, like she’s been holding it for hours. “We are friends, so I don’t want you to be surprised by things that caught me off guard when I met my mates. When I heard you moved in, I knew I needed to talk to you. Do you know that when you meet your scent matches, it can trigger a mini heat? Even if you’re not in your cycle? A mini heat is a shorter, less intense version of your true heat.”