"Because you asked me my favorite color." I patted his head with mock sympathy, my fingers threading through his dark hair before I could stop myself, something in me delighting at the way he leaned into the touch like a cat seeking pets. "Fair is fair."
"I once called a client 'Mom' on a business call." Reid's voice was flat, resigned, his dark eyes fixed on the ceiling like he was praying for death, his jaw tight with remembered mortification. "She was sixty years old and very confused."
I burst out laughing, genuine and surprised, my whole body shaking with it, tears pricking at my eyes.
"No." My voice came out breathless, disbelieving, my hand pressing against my chest as I tried to catch my breath. "You didn't."
"I did." Reid's voice was grim, his dark eyes dropping from the ceiling to meet mine, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, his shoulders loosening slightly. "I said, 'Thanks, Mom, I'll have those reports to you by Friday.' She still brings it up at every quarterly meeting."
"I love that." I was still laughing, wiping tears from my eyes with the back of my hand, my stomach aching from the force of it. "I love that so much."
"My turn." Nolan's voice was sheepish, his cheeks flushing pink, his hand tightening on my knee, his green eyes ducking away from mine. "I once walked into a glass door at a conference. In front of about two hundred people. Gave myself a bloody nose."
"Please tell me someone has video." I turned to him, my eyes wide with delighted horror, my free hand reaching out to grab his arm, my fingers curling into his sleeve.
"Somewhere on the internet, probably." Nolan's voice was rueful, his green eyes warm despite his embarrassment, his free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "It was not my finest moment."
"Kol." I turned to look at him, finding his face still buried against my shoulder, his body shaking with what might have been laughter or dread. "Your turn."
"I don't want to." His voice was muffled, plaintive, his arms tightening around me like I might protect him from his own confession, his fingers clutching at the blanket.
"Too bad." I tugged at his hair gently, forcing his head up, grinning at the flush on his cheeks, my eyes dancing with wicked delight. "Spill."
"Fine." He blew out a breath, his golden eyes meeting mine with exaggerated suffering, his expression tragic and resigned. "I once tripped carrying a wedding cake. Six tiers. It went everywhere. The bride cried. The groom tried to fight me. I still have nightmares about it."
I stared at him, my mouth falling open, horror and hilarity warring on my face, my eyes going wide.
"Kol." My voice came out strangled, my whole body shaking with suppressed laughter, my hand flying to cover my mouth. "That's terrible."
"I know." His voice was mournful, his golden eyes wide and wounded, but there was a glimmer of humor beneath the drama. "I sent flowers every year on their anniversary for five years. They finally sent me a card that said 'Please stop, we've forgiven you, the flowers are making us feel guilty.'"
I lost it. I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe, my body curling forward, tears streaming down my face. Kol was laughing too, his forehead pressed against my temple, his breath warm on my cheek, his shoulders shaking against mine. When I finally caught my breath, I turned to Sawyer, who was watching the scene withsomething like wonder in his amber eyes, his scarred face softer than I'd ever seen it.
"What about you?" My voice was still breathless with laughter, my cheeks hurting from smiling, my fingers squeezing his hand. "Most embarrassing moment?"
He was quiet for a long moment, his brow furrowing like he was thinking hard, his amber eyes going distant.
"Don't get embarrassed." His voice was gruff, matter-of-fact, his shoulders lifting in a small shrug, his jaw set stubbornly.
"Everyone gets embarrassed." I tilted my head, studying him, my thumb stroking across his knuckles, my voice gentle but teasing. "Even big scary Alphas."
Something flickered in his eyes — amusement, maybe, or challenge — his lips pressing together like he was fighting something.
"Tripped over a cat once." His voice was reluctant, like the words were being dragged out of him against his will, his gaze dropping to our joined hands. "Fell into a horse trough. Full of water."
The image hit me — big, stoic Sawyer, soaking wet, glaring at an innocent cat — and I dissolved into giggles again, my whole body shaking, my head falling back.
"The cat okay?" I managed to ask, gasping for breath, my hand squeezing his, my eyes streaming.
"Cat was fine." His voice was gruff, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his scarred lips, his amber eyes warming as he watched me laugh. "Smug little bastard sat there cleaning himself while I dripped."
That set everyone off again — even Reid was laughing, his deep chuckle filling the room, his head thrown back against the chair, his whole body shaking with it.
This. This was what I'd never had. Easy laughter, comfortable silences, people who wanted to know my favoritecolor and shared their embarrassing stories without hesitation. People I could touch without flinching, without calculating, without waiting for the cost.
I found myself reaching out, grabbing Reid's hand where it rested on the arm of the chair, needing another point of contact, needing to feel connected to all of them. He startled slightly at the touch, his dark eyes flying to mine, then his fingers intertwined with mine, warm and solid, his thumb stroking across my knuckles.
Four points of contact now — Kol at my shoulder, Nolan's hand on my knee, Sawyer's hand in one of mine, Reid's in the other. I was surrounded, anchored, held.
