Page 154 of Pack Plus One

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’shappening. 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.”

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