Page 56 of Pack Frenzy
My throat tightens. He made dinner. Probably set a place for me, too.
“I’m not hungry,” I lie, and hate myself for it.
There’s a pause—long enough that I hold my breath, half-hoping he’ll call me on it, half-terrified he will.
“Leftovers’ll be in the fridge if you change your mind.”
His footsteps fade down the hall, and something in my chest cracks. They don’t owe me anything. Not dinner, not patience, not those careful voices like I’m something fragile they’re afraid to break.
I sink on the edge of the bed, and for the first time since I got here, I feel small.
How am I supposed to do dozens more days of this when it’s only been a week? Two Alphas who make my instincts go haywire, and a Beta who’s all quiet smiles and soft patience that somehow hits just as hard.
Maybe if I stay in my room, I can ride this out without embarrassing myself again.
Maybe.
The next morning,I skip breakfast too, listening to the sounds of the house through the door—Cassian’s laugh, the scrape of chairs, the low rumble of Rowan’s voice. Normal. Easy. Everything I’m not.
So, I shower long enough that the water runs cold, scrubbing at my skin like I can wash away the way I reacted, the way Iwanted. It doesn’t work. When I close my eyes, I still feel Rowan’s hands on my waist, steadying me. Claiming me. And I still feel the part of me that wanted to lean in instead of pull away.
And it’s not just Rowan. I nearly did the same damn thing with Cassian—when he showed me how to fix the fence, when I bandaged that cut on his knuckle.
How I can’t stop thinking about how I was in his bed, him over me, how much I wanted him. There’s even a pull with Eli, but it’s different. Gentle like a soft breeze on a summer day, while Rowan’s a thunderstorm and Cassian’s a goddamn tornado.
Eventually, the silence gets worse than the embarrassment. The room feels too small, the walls pressing in with all the things I’m not saying. My reflection in the mirror looks pale, haunted—like a woman who’s forgotten how to be around people who actually give a damn.
Unable to wait any longer, I open the door and head to the kitchen.
The smell of coffee hits first. Then I spot Eli kneeling next to a big cardboard box, like Christmas came early.
He looks up and grins. “Morning, stranger. The order came in. Anything that doesn’t fit, just toss it back in the box. We only pay for what you keep.”
The normal tone throws me off—no judgment, no careful tiptoeing. Just Eli, being Eli. A place between my shoulder blades loosens.
“You guys really bought me a whole wardrobe?”
“Had to guess sizes.” He shrugs, all Beta calm. “Think I did alright.”
I crouch down next to him, fingers trailing over soft cotton and denim that doesn’t look cheap. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Yeah, we did.” He glances at me, and there’s something steady in his gaze that makes my throat tight. “You’re here. That means you’re ours to take care of.”
Ours.The word lands somewhere behind my ribs and stays there.
I dig through the pile—jeans, soft T-shirts, a hoodie I could live in—and then I stop. Bright teal fabric.
A swimsuit.
“You really planned for everything,” I say, holding it up, “but I don’t think I’ll need this around here.”
Eli wipes his hands on his jeans, a small grin tugging at his mouth. “That’s the point. We’re getting out of here for a few days. Place called Brightwater Bay—has a fair this weekend, right by the lake.”
“A fair?” My brain takes a second to catch up. “You mean with rides and funnel cake and questionable safety standards?”
“Exactly that.” His grin widens. “Cassian’s already claiming the rollercoasters. Rowan says he’s only doing the Ferris wheel. Guess which one I’m in it for.”
I eye him. “Cotton candy?”
