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SAMUEL

T he only reason I'm not sporting a boner is because Amaya's tear-stained cheeks are haunting every thought I've had since Vincent ran her up to the nest.

"I'm going back up there," Emmett explodes and turns for the stairs.

My arm snatches out and grabs my best friend by his bicep. "Stop. She'll be okay."

Em's eyes contain a storm of fear and anger. "How do you know that?! Did you not see her? Sam, she never had fucking panic attacks when we were kids. This is so fucked up. She can't even walk into her own home without breaking into pieces!"

I know his rage isn't aimed at me, but goddamn, it's hard not to snap back at him. My alpha's already keyed up, and his condescending tone is testing my last nerve. "I know she'll be perfectly fine, because your beta is up there making her moan like she's about to combust."

"What?" he asks, bewildered.

I roll my eyes. "Listen," I huff, pointing to the ceiling. Like I planned it, Maya lets loose a soft mewl of pleasure. Moving my hand, I jab my finger into his chest where I know he can feel her if he tried. "Now feel . If not her then your alpha. What is going on with Vincent?"

When did I become the voice of reason? Pretty damn sure that was Em's job not too long ago. We might need to have a conversation because this emotional side of him is something I'm not sure how to approach.

"Vince is..." he trails off and nibbles his lip. His eyes flick up to the top of the stairs, a blush tinging his cheeks pink.

"Horny?" I deadpan, feeling like I should get used to all the PDA that comes with a happy pack.

Is that what we are? Happy?

Emmett groans and hangs his head. Nodding, he grips the back of his neck and turns his attention to the living room. "What are we going to do about this place? Think she should come live with us?"

I snort. “Absolutely not. Amaya might have panic attacks now, but I promise you she's still that little girl who stole our shoes and hid them when we tried to force her to wear a longer dress when she was sixteen."

Em laughs and when he locks eyes with me, I'm so damn pleased to see a little sparkle back in his eye that I bounce a little on the balls of my feet. "Shit, I forgot about that."

I nod with a mock pout. "We should've just gone barefoot. Jimmy Staze was just fuckin' beggin’ for us to rip his eyeballs out."

Disgust and annoyance flit across Emmett's face at the mention of that damn wang. "Fuck that guy. So if we are supporting her independence, how do we make this her safe space again?"

Ding dong .

I smirk and pat him on the shoulder. "I got it all taken care of."

"Why the fuck are there strangers in Amaya's home?!"

"Christ, Vincent," I grunt, nicking my gums with my nail where I was nibbling anxiously on them. "Be quiet, you big oaf. Your hissing is loud enough to bring the new chandelier down."

"Samuel," Vince growls so low it's barely even audible. "Get them out of here. Right the fuck now."

Emmett looks over, blushes, then skitters away. Point made, even whisper yelling, Vincent is loud as fuck . Taking in my pack alpha, I notice he's in low slung sweatpants and no shirt. I'm pretty sure those are scratch marks I see on his buzzed skull and his lips are far thicker than normal.

"Jesus, dude. You can't come down here smelling like our needy omega when I have people here trying to work." He's lucky they’re all betas who are required to wear descenting sprays and lotions. The gloves and covered skin are so they don't leave a trace of themselves behind.

No, they are not murderers. And I obviously made them wait outside until the orgasmic screaming stopped a few hours ago.

The couch groans as it's lifted from the ground. "They are my stagers. We hire them to decorate and furnish homes for showings."

"And, pray tell before I ban you to the backyard, why is the couch leaving? Where's the rug? Why the hell is the kitchen table double the length? And what the fuck was wrong with her regular light fixture?"

I give him a blank stare. "Are you still feral?" He glares and I sigh. "Maya freaked out when she came in here this morning. Everything about it reminded her of the night she was taken. I'm wiping her slate clean and giving her the opportunity to make new memories and find fresh comfort in her home. If she wants her stuff back, I'll have it swapped back. Promise."

Vincent studies me, then trails his vivid blue eyes around the people flitting about. "You'd really do this for her?"

"Already doing it, man." My head tilts, and I watch him grapple with understanding my gesture. I'm not dense. I know I was a horrible fucking guy for a long time and I have some serious work to do.

"I'm trying, Vincent," I murmur, tucking my hands in the pocket of my sweatshirt.

With one final sweep of the trespassers, his attention lands on me again. "Thank you for doing this, Sam." Then he turns for the stairs, ready to head back to our mate. "Oh. One more thing. Keep a close fucking eye on them."

I open my mouth, but Paul ambles into the kitchen, followed by my three dads. "We got it handled, son. Go check on Amaya. I have lunch in the fridge whenever you're ready," Paul declares before running off to help a couple of guys haul in the new flat screen TV.

My dads follow and break off to help get everything situated. Momma squeals, catching Vincent's attention. "Oh, it's perfect!"

I look over to find my mom placing a photo of Em, Oli, Maya, and me from when we were seven and eight on the mantle. John and Rich, Emmett's parents, add their own photos, too. My eyes burn, and my feet start carrying me toward the pictures I haven't seen in so many years.

"Sam," Vincent calls my name. When I turn around, he gives me a nod. "She's going to love it."

Smiling, I feel my chest warm for the first time in forever. I think this might be what happiness feels like. If not, it's pretty close.