Page 35 of Pack Me Up
“I’m okay,” she says, and the way she says it makes me believe it’s a lie.
I stay by the door, too big for the space, the tips of my boots nearly touching a laundry basket. Her eyes flick up to mine, and I see a flash of amusement.
After an uncomfortably long silence, she smiles again and asks, “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”
I decide to lay it all out there. I don’t want her to take my distance the wrong way.
I clear my throat. “I’m not great at this. The omega thing, I mean.”
Her eyebrows go up, curiosity taking the edge off her posture. “You’re not?”
“I’ve never spent time with one before who wasn’t just a client.” My tongue feels thick.
She tilts her head, like she’s cataloging this. “My omega likes that.”
I try to relax, but the nerves stick to my skin like a rash. “If I’m doing something wrong, or too much, or…whatever, just tell me. I don’t want to screw this up. Especially for them.” I gesture at the wall to my brothers.
Brittney’s eyes soften. “You’re not screwing anything up,” she says, and the kindness in her voice is harder to handle than if she’d told me to fuck off.
I nod, looking at the ceiling, the window, anywhere but her face. “Colton and Cody say I overthink things. Hunter says I’m a bossy, controlling asshole. Fox just… tries to help. But you-” I stop, hating the shape of the words. “You matter. To them and to me. I want to get it right.”
She lets that hang in the air. Then, a smile, tiny, but there. “I’ll tell you if you’re ever too bossy,” she promises. “But honestly, I get it. You’re the oldest brother and the pack leader, which comes with a lot of pressure. I want you just the way you are, don’t change for me. Someone’s got to keep the others from burning down the house.”
It’s the first real laugh I’ve had in days, sharp and surprised. “They’d do it, too,” I say. “Colton almost lit the kitchen on fire last Thanksgiving. Cody just egged him on.”
She bites her lip, hiding a grin, and for a moment we’re both in on the joke. The tension drains out of my shoulders, just a little.
I step closer, the scent of her hitting me all at once. It’s sweet like toffee and chocolate, with an undercurrent of hazelnut. That explains Hunter’s nickname.
“Seriously,” I say, softer. “If you need space, or want to change rooms, or anything you need, you tell me. I’ll make it happen.”
Her eyes flicker, unreadable. “I like this room,” she says. “It feels… safe.”
Safe. It’s the one thing I always wanted to give my pack, the thing I’ve failed at more times than I can count. The word makes my alpha puff up with pride.
“Good,” I manage.
For a while, we just sit in silence with her on the bed, me rooted to the floor like an idiot. I want to say something important, something that will help us connect, but my mind blanks.
She saves me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
She hesitates, then asks, “Why do you do it? The security stuff. You could do anything. Why this?”
It’s not the question I expected, but I like it. She wants to get to know me. I shrug, struggling for honesty. “Protecting people is all I know. Making things secure. It gives me something to control when the rest of the world is chaos.”
She nods, like she understands. “Makes sense.”
The silence that follows is comfortable, for the first time. She picks up the guitar and strums, softer now, her hands steadier with someone else in the room. I listen, letting the notes fill the space between us.
When she finishes, I say, “You should play in the basement. The acoustics down there are insane.”
We made sure of it.
She grins, wide and bright. “I can’t believe you built that room yourself.”
I roll my eyes. “With help.”
