Page 59 of Pack Plus One (Sweetwater City Reverse Harem Omegaverse #1)

LEAH

T he rest of the evening unfolds with a new lightness. The guys gather snacks and we pile onto the couch for a movie marathon. No one mentions the words we exchanged earlier, but I feel them in every casual touch, every shared smile, every knowing glance.

As the credits roll on the third film, I reluctantly check the time.

“Stay,” Caleb says, his fingers tangling with mine as I fumble with the hem of his sweater. “Stay tonight.”

The simple invitation makes my heart flutter.

Mason catches my eye from across the living room. “I planned breakfast,” he offers, his voice mild but his meaning clear. He’s been preparing for me to stay. They all have.

Jude flops dramatically against the couch. “If you leave, who’s going to referee our morning arguments? We need adult supervision.”

“You’re all adults,” I point out, but I’m already grinning.

“Debatable,” Liam murmurs, the corner of his mouth quirking upward.

I nod, the simple gesture somehow feeling momentous. “Okay.”

Jude pumps his fist victoriously. “I’ll get the wine.”

“We just had wine with dinner,” I remind him.

“This is celebratory wine. Completely different category.”

Mason stands, shaking his head. “I’ll make tea instead.”

“Tea is just sad water,” Jude protests, but he follows Mason to the kitchen anyway, their bickering fading as they go.

Liam stretches, his tall frame unfolding from the floor as Caleb’s hand settles at the small of my back, guiding me toward the stairs. His touch is light but the warmth of his palm still seeps through the borrowed sweater.

The upper floor of the pack house is quiet, the hallway softly lit. I’ve been up here before, but tonight feels like something else entirely. Like I’m crossing a threshold I can’t uncross.

Caleb leads me toward his bedroom with its massive bed and dark walls. We’re halfway there when I pause, my gaze caught by the partially open door at the other end of the hall.

The nest room.

The sanctuary. For heats. For emotional distress. For the deepest kind of comfort. For a level of belonging I’ve never allowed myself.

Caleb notices my hesitation, following my gaze to the door. “Leah?”

I swallow, suddenly nervous in a way I can’t fully explain. “How about...” The words stick in my throat. I try again, cheeks warming. “How about we sleep in the nest?”

Something shifts in Caleb’s expression—surprise, followed by a joy so raw it makes my chest ache. “You’re sure?”

I nod, the tightness in my throat making speech difficult.

He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles with such reverence I nearly combust. “Come on,” he says softly, tugging me toward the room.

The nest room is exactly as I remembered, yet somehow more intimidating now that I’m not being bombarded by heat.

The moment I step in, the actual nest steals my breath.

That enormous circular mattress cradled in the sunken portion of the floor, piled with pillows and blankets in a chaotic arrangement that speaks to years of pack life.

It’s beautiful in its disorder, but it’s not mine. Not yet.

“It needs work,” I say without thinking.

Caleb laughs softly. “It’s been waiting for you.”

The simple truth of his statement hits me hard. This space, this sacred, omega-centered space, has existed in their home for years. Waiting for the missing piece of their pack.

Waiting for me.

I step closer to the nest, running my fingers over the jumble of blankets. I can scent each pack member in the materials—Caleb’s dark chocolate, Jude’s bright citrus, Liam’s old books, Mason’s sandalwood. They’ve all contributed, but the arrangement lacks the touch of an omega.

Without conscious thought, I begin dismantling the nest, pulling blankets and pillows out and setting them in distinct piles. Caleb watches silently, not interfering, understanding instinctively that this is something I need to do myself.

The door creaks open behind us, and Jude pokes his head in, curiosity etched on his features. “Hey, we were wondering if—” He stops, eyes widening as he takes in the scene. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “Are you?—?”

“Yes,” Caleb answers for me, his voice low with significance. “She’s rebuilding the nest.”

Jude vanishes so quickly I almost laugh, his footsteps pounding down the hallway. Seconds later, more footsteps approach—these more controlled.

Liam and Mason appear in the doorway, both radiating a careful restraint that tells me Jude has updated them on what’s happening. Mason carries a steaming mug that he sets on the small table near the entrance before backing away respectfully.

“Tea,” he says simply. “For when you’re ready.”

I nod my thanks, hands still busy with the sorting. None of them enter fully, understanding without being told that I need space for this ritual.

“Can we help?” Liam asks quietly.

I consider for a moment, then nod. “Bring me your favorite things. One each. Something that smells strongly of you.”

They disappear without another word, even Jude managing to contain his usual commentary. I return to my task, methodically emptying the nest until I’m left with the bare circular mattress. Only then do I truly realize the magnitude of what I’m doing.

I smooth the wrinkles from the duvet, the soft cotton warm beneath my fingers. I fluff the pillows, arranging them just how I like them to be, then step back to admire my handiwork. A small smile plays on my lips. It feels…right.

The pack returns one by one, each bearing gifts.

Mason is first, presenting a soft gray cardigan. “It’s warm,” he says unnecessarily, holding it out with careful hands. “One of my favorites.”

I accept it with a smile, tucking it into the foundation layer I’m building. “Perfect. Thank you.”

Liam approaches next, cradling what appears to be a well-worn quilt in deep blue. “My grandmother made this,” he explains, his voice softened with memory. “I’ve had it since childhood.”

The significance of his offering steals my breath. “Liam,” I whisper, “are you sure?”

He nods, placing the quilt in my outstretched hands. “It belongs in our nest.”

Our nest.

Jude appears next, holding a faded orange hoodie.

“This,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “was my lucky hoodie. Wore it during our first big brewing competition. Figured you might need some extra luck with the bakery.” He shrugs, avoiding my gaze, his cheeks flushed a faint pink.

“Plus, it smells like me,” he adds, his usual grin returning.

“So, you know, you won’t forget about me. ”

“Juuude,” I protest, accepting the hoodie. I tuck the hoodie into the growing nest, secretly pleased.

Caleb is last, approaching with something clutched in his large hands that he seems almost hesitant to offer. When he opens his fingers, I see a simple cotton t-shirt, worn thin.

“It’s not special,” he says gruffly. “Just... it’s what I sleep in most nights.”

The simplicity of his offering touches me more deeply than something grand would have.

“It’s perfect,” I tell him, taking the shirt and bringing it to my nose. His scent fills my lungs—dark chocolate and espresso, safety and strength.

With their offerings added to my materials, I begin the actual construction of the nest. There’s no conscious plan to my movements, just instinct guiding my hands as I layer and fold, tuck and arrange.

The foundation needs to be sturdy—that’s where I place Liam’s quilt, its weight and history providing a solid base.

Mason’s cardigan gets folded into the area I instinctively know will be his sleeping spot, positioned for maximum warmth.

Jude’s hoodie becomes part of the central pile of pillows—chaotic and bright, just like him. And Caleb’s t-shirt I place where I know my head will rest, his scent positioned to surround me through the night.

The pack watches in reverent silence as I work. It should make me self-conscious, this audience to such an intimate ritual, but instead it feels right. This nest isn’t just for me—it’s for us. For all five of us together.

When I finally sit back on my heels, surveying my creation, a sense of profound satisfaction washes over me.

The nest looks nothing like the original jumble I dismantled.

It’s structured now. There’s Mason’s tidy corner, Liam’s section with extra pillows for his broad shoulders, Jude’s chaotic but somehow perfect sprawl area at the foot, and Caleb’s space beside mine at the center.

It’s beautiful. It’s functional. It’s ours.

“Done,” I announce, suddenly shy as I look up at them.

The emotion on their faces steals my breath. None of them speak for a long moment.

Jude breaks the silence first, because of course he does. “Dibs on being the little spoon.”

The tension breaks, laughter bubbling up from my chest. “You’re always the little spoon, Jude.”

“That’s because I’m excellent at it. Some people are natural athletes; I’m a natural little spoon. It’s my calling.”

“An admirable life goal,” Liam deadpans, but his eyes are bright with happiness.

Mason moves to the wall panel, dimming the lights to a soft glow. “Temperature preference?” he asks, hand hovering over the thermostat.

“Warmer,” I decide. “But not too warm.”

He nods, making a minute adjustment before stepping toward the nest. He pauses at the edge, looking to me for permission. It’s such a subtle acknowledgment that this space is now under my authority that it brings a small smile to my lips.

I hold out my hand, inviting him in. “Come on.”

That’s all it takes. The four of them shed outer layers before they join me in the nest. I find myself in the center, Caleb’s solid warmth at my back, Liam a comforting presence at my front.

Jude sprawls across the foot of the nest, one arm flung dramatically over his eyes. Mason occupies the space near Liam.

“Perfect,” Caleb murmurs against my hair, his arm a welcome weight across my waist.

And it is.

Soon, the tension from the day releases from my shoulders.

“What are we going to do about Eric?” I finally ask the question that’s been lurking at the back of my mind all evening.

“Beat him at his own game,” Caleb says simply, his voice rumbling against my back where I’m tucked against his chest.

“By making the best damn pastries in the city,” Liam elaborates from my other side.

“And by leveraging our collective skills to hit him out of the water,” Mason adds from his corner.

“And by looking hot as hell while doing it,” Jude contributes sleepily from the foot of the nest. “Never underestimate the power of attractiveness in customer acquisition.”

I smile into the darkness, their confidence infectious. “Okay,” I say. “We’ll beat him fair and square.”

“Mostly fair,” Jude amends. “Square-adjacent, at minimum.”

“Jude,” Liam and Mason warn in unison.

“Fine,” Jude huffs. “But if we’re going completely legit, someone needs to remind Caleb that growling at health inspectors is frowned upon.”

Caleb’s answering growl rumbles through the nest, making me giggle. I snuggle closer, enjoying the warmth of their bodies and the easy banter. Sleep pulls at me, and the last thing I hear is Jude’s whispered comment: “Dibs on the omega in the morning.”