Page 63 of A Pack of Mistletoe
“It’s a good plan,” Kai agrees, “but she’s already thinking about it. Maybe waiting isn’t right anymore.”
He’s right. I want to make it special but I don't want to hold off and have her thinking we don't want her or some shit.
“Tomorrow morning, if she’s up for it,” I decide. “We make it happen.” I look to Wyatt. “You have enough to make a real breakfast?”
He nods, resolute.
“She’ll probably sleep in,” Kai adds. “I can go out early, get flowers, roses.”
“I’ll pick up something special,” Evander says softly. “Something that shows we mean forever.”
“I’ll handle the paperwork,” Logan adds, completely serious.
We all turn to stare at him. “What?” he says with a shrug. “It’s important.”
The laugh that breaks out eases something in my chest. I reach out, catch him by the back of the neck, and press a slow kiss to his mouth. His smile after is pure love.
When the lights go out, we slip beneath the covers. Logan and Kai bracket our sweet omega tonight, and I don’t mind. She’s a restless sleeper when she’s had too much wine. She smacks Kai when he tries to spoon her and almost kneesLogan in the groin. They grumble and shift, giving her a small island of space in the middle before curling toward their other partners instead.
I watch her for a long time—her slow breathing, the peace on her face. Tomorrow, if everything goes as it should, she’ll wake surrounded by love. Byus.
And this time, it’ll be forever.
Rose
I wake up with regret in my heart and a pounding in my skull. I don’t usually get sick from drinking—thank god—but the headache always comes as punishment for those few too many. Evander had been mixing drinks all night. Along with being the pack’s lawyer, he apparently moonlights as a mixologist and makes all the restaurants drink menus too. Of course he does.
I reach for the left side of the bed and find… nothing. The sheets are cool and wrinkled under my palm. I try the other side. Also empty. My brow furrows as I blink into the dim light. The room is quiet. The door is shut.
No one’s here.
I haven’t woken up to an empty bed since I told the guys about my touch deprivation.
Images from last night crash through my head—Russian Mules and sugary cocktails, shots with the girls in the back, laughter, carols, dancing. At the time it felt perfect. But now? Now I can’t stop wondering if I onlythoughteveryone was having fun. What if I embarrassed them? What if they’re in the living room right now regretting me?
Memories of other Christmas parties flood in. Ones where I sat still and smiled just right, where I was scolded afterward for being too loud, too messy, toome.
My chest tightens. My scent must be souring.
Before I can fully spiral, the door creaks open. Kai pokes his head in. He smiles when he sees me and then frowns, sniffing the air.
“Rosie,” he says softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “You okay?”
He looks so gentle it hurts. My breath catches, and before I can answer, a thick tear spills down my cheek.
His eyes widen. Then he’s crossing the room in two strides, climbing into bed and gathering me into his arms. His warmth seeps into me immediately, grounding and unbearable all at once.
“What happened?” he asks, utterly bewildered.
I sniffle against his shirt and try to explain—how I woke up alone, how the old panic came back, how I started thinking maybe I did something wrong.
He doesn’t say anything right away, just rubs small circles between my shoulder blades. When I finally look up, his lips are curved in a soft, crooked smile.
“Will you come with me, Rosie? Please?” he asks softly.
Kai takes my hand, helping me up. He leads me out into the living room.
The first thing that hits me is the smell—bacon and something sweet, buttery. Then I see it. Garland draped over the fireplace. Twinkle lights framing the television. My couch covered in ridiculous Santa-themed blankets.
