Page 68 of Pack Plus One

Zoe

So... how’s it going?

I reach for the whiskey bottle Mason brought.

Screw the glass.

I take a long pull directly from the bottle, the cinnamon burn matching the ache in my chest.

Another text arrives.

Zoe

That bad, huh?

I stare at the message, unsure how to explain that the dinner wasn’t a disaster because of them, but because of me. Becausethey tried, in their own chaotic, ridiculous ways, and I shut them down completely.

The spoon Liam carved still lies on the table, its polished surface gleaming in the dim light. I pick it up, running my fingers over the smooth wood, the careful detailing on the handle. How long did it take him to make this? How many hours did he spend thinking of me, creating something with his hands that he thought I’d like?

The lamb Caleb brought sits half-eaten, perfectly cooked, exactly the way I mentioned liking it once, off-handedly, during that ridiculous pre-wedding cocktail party.

Mason’s whiskey burns pleasantly in my throat, warming me from the inside out.

And even Jude’s ridiculous balloons, still floating by my ceiling, show a strange kind of thoughtfulness in their inappropriate humor.

Four different men. Four different approaches to showing they care.

And I just threw it all back in their faces.

A cramp twists low in my abdomen, sudden and sharp. I wince, pressing a hand to my stomach. Stress, probably. Or the whiskey.

My phone buzzes again.

Zoe

Want me to ditch this dude and come over?

I stare at the message, then at the wreckage around me—the shattered evening, the gifts left behind, the scents still clinging to the air.

With a sigh, I send:

No. I think I made a mistake.

Zoe

What kind of mistake?

Another cramp, deeper this time. Heat licks up my spine, familiar and insistent. I shift on the floor, suddenly restless.

No. No, no, no?—

But my body doesn’t lie. The flush isn’t just from alcohol. The ache isn’t just guilt. My scent shifts subtly, sweetening—vanilla and cinnamon giving way to something richer, needier.

Pre-heat.

And early.

I swallow hard. Of course, it would happen now. When I’ve just screamed at the only pack who’ve ever?—

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