Page 23 of A Pack of Mistletoe
My chest still heaves. I can’t slow it down.
Logan kneels directly in front of me, his gaze locking with Harlan’s.
“Breathe with Logan,” Harlan orders—quiet but commanding, the kind of tone that sinks straight into my omega core.
Logan inhales slowly, deliberately. I mirror him. He exhales, and Harlan’s voice keeps me steady. Again. Again.
Until my breaths stop scraping like glass. Until the fire in my chest softens to embers.
I’m still cradled in Kai’s arms, too mortified to move. I press my face into his chest, hiding in the solid warmth of him. His hold tightens. He rubs his cheek against my hair, scent-marking me in quiet reassurance.
“What happened, Candy?” Evander asks softly, crouching beside Logan.
The five of them circle me, forming a wall of safety. The looming house is only a shadow behind us now.
“I’m sorry. It’s—the house is just…” My throat closes around the words.
“Like your parents’ house,” Harlan finishes for me.
My eyes flick up to his. He watches steadily, knowingly. I nod. His hand moves through my curls, soothing and careful not to snag.
“I was there once,” he says. “Met your father for business.”
“I know,” I whisper.
His hand stills for a heartbeat, then resumes, slower. His gaze weighs on me, like he’s fitting pieces together.
“Let’s go home. I’ll cook,” Wyatt says.
“But the house,” I squeak as Kai lifts me easily and starts toward the car.
“What about the house?” Evander asks breezily, climbing into the seat behind mine.
“It’s perfect for you. Exactly what you need.” My voice wobbles.
Kai buckles me in, then elbows Evander away from the seat directly behind me. He takes my hand—large, warm, anchoring.
“It’s not perfect for you,” Logan says firmly, settling beside Evander.
“Yeah, but it had everything you wanted—bedrooms, bathrooms, even a pool with a bar,” I protest weakly.
“It was too big,” Harlan says flatly. “Right, guys?”
“Truly ostentatious,” Kai agrees solemnly.
“Tacky as hell,” Evander adds with a grin.
“Too much gloss,” Wyatt mutters in his low drawl.
“Hated it,” Logan says, deadpan.
I stare at them, stunned. Minutes ago they were admiring it—talking about mancaves and home offices. Hot tears prick my eyes.
“You’re going to end up in my tiny room again tonight,” I whisper, throat tight.
Harlan just shrugs. “Let’s go home.”
Kai squeezes my hand. “Home,” he echoes.
