Page 76 of Holly Jolly Heat
The attic was exactly what I'd expected, sloped ceiling, old hardwood floors, boxes of Christmas decorations stacked everywhere, photo albums on shelves, the accumulated history of the Rodriguez-Williams family stored away.
It smelled like dust and cedar and Michelle's peppermint-pine scent that had permeated everything.
"Okay," Michelle said, looking around. "Where do we start?"
"With honesty," Janet called from the bottom of the stairs. "You start with honesty."
Then the door closed.
And locked.
"MOM!" Michelle yelled.
"One hour!" Janet called back. "I'll bring snacks!"
Michelle tried the door handle. Locked solid.
"I can't believe she actually locked us in."
"I can," Dex said, examining the door. "This was planned. The lock's been modified. She's been preparing this."
"Of course she has." Michelle turned to face us. "So. We're trapped in my attic. For an hour. What are we supposed to do?"
"Talk," I said, settling onto an old trunk. "Like your mom said. Actually talk about what comes next."
"I thought we were sorting decorations."
"We're not sorting decorations, Michelle. We're addressing the fact that you told us you loved us last night and then immediately started trying to control the situation." I met her eyes. "You meant it when you said you loved us. But you're still scared. And we need to talk about that."
She looked trapped, which was accurate, given our location.
"Of course I'm scared. This is…it's huge. It changes everything."
"Does it?" Lucas asked, sitting on the floor with his back against a box. "Or does it just make official what was already happening?"
"It makes it real. Permanent. Public, eventually." She started pacing, as much as she could in the cramped space. "We still haven't figured out the professional side. The ethics. How we handle clients and reputation and?—"
"Michelle," I interrupted gently. "Stop."
"Stop what?"
"Stop using logistics as a shield. Stop hiding behind professional concerns when what you're really scared of is the vulnerability."
"I'm not?—"
"You are," Dex said quietly. "You do it every time things get too real. You retreat into work, into planning, into control. But Michelle, you can't control love. You can't manage pack bonds like they're a client relationship."
She stopped pacing, and I watched her struggle.
"I don't know how to do this," she admitted. "How to be both. Manager and omega. Professional and personal. How to keep myself from disappearing into the pack."
"Then let us show you," I said. "Let us prove that pack doesn't mean losing yourself. That you can be both. That we want you to be both."
"How?"
"By being honest. By telling you exactly what we see when we look at you." I stood, moving closer. "Michelle, I've been watching you for six months. Through emails, through video calls, through every interaction. And I've seen someone brilliant and driven who's terrified of depending on anyone. Someone who fights for others but never lets others fight for her. Someone who's so scared of being vulnerable that she's convinced herself she doesn't need love."
"That's not?—"
