“You promise your omega is okay with it?” I ask.
“Of course,” he responds, his voice reassuring. “In fact, he’s insisting on it. He wants to help you as much as I do.”
I push that sentiment away as much as I can, because I can’t let myself get confused by this arrangement. My omega disagrees with me, sending up a whine that I stifle in my throat.
My omega and I rarely disagree, but this is for the best.
“Okay,” I say softly, so quiet that I almost don’t hear myself. But the look on Sam’s face tells me he heard, and his expression eases with relief. The smile he gives me is bright, delighted, and I fall a little bit in love with it immediately.
SIX
“I can’t get over how comfy all of your stuff is,” Stacia says as she brings one of my blankets to her cheek and rubs the soft material. “Like, I need this in my life. Can I pay you to crochet me a blanket?”
That makes me smile. “You don’t have to pay me. Just tell me what color or pattern you want, and I can get to it next week. Especially since I’ll finally have my own space to do it.” I organize the crafts box, making sure there’s nothing delicate sitting with my crochet hooks. I notice there’s a whole ball of yarn missing, and let out a quiet but frustrated screech.
“Is everything okay, Opal?” Stacia asks.
I sigh. “I just feel like everything is so…disorganized. I never really unpacked these because there was no place to put them, and now they’re just, scrambled about. Like I was living with no structure.”
“But, you did keep everything in the same vicinity,” Rory says, looking around. She intuitively picks up the exact skein of yarn I was looking for behind the couch and hands it to me. “And, at least you know what you’re looking for because each box is labeled.”
“Seriously though, you’re a much better packer than me,” Stacia adds.
Rory snorts. “Everyone on the planet is a better packer than you. Your wax melts got mixed in with your edible rock candy, and now you can’t figure out which is which.”
Stacia covers her mouth as she giggles. “Ciro always forgets, so every once in a while, he picks one and takes a bite. The guys have a bet going on for how long it takes him to forget again.”
The mental image of Ciro accidentally eating wax almost takes me out. “All those poor discarded and half-eaten wax melts.”
“It’s official,” Rory announces. “I’m getting him some of those hyper-realistic wax melts for Christmas. The food ones.”
We all laugh, but still work as fast as we can to get my stuff packed. Unfortunately, all the guys have plans today, so it’s just us omegas putting in the work to get me out of this hellhole.
And thatiswhat it is. I was trying to be positive before, but now that there’s a light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel, I can finally be honest. Living here washell.
The front door opens, and Rory tenses beside me as she reorganizes my mug collection to fit in the box better. She doesn’t like being around Cindy, says her omega gets testy whenever she’s nearby, so I don’t miss the way she stays quiet when my childhood friend walks into the room, obviously surprised to see my new friends here.
“Hey, Cindy,” Stacia says diplomatically. She’s sweet, always looking for ways to make others feel included, but the way Cindy looks at her and says nothing sets evenmyteeth on edge. Rory gives an almost inaudible omega growl deep in her chest at the blatant disrespect, so I place my hand on her shoulder to silently tell her that I’ll handle it.
“Cindy, you know my friends Stacia and Rory,” I say, formally introducing them.
Again, Cindy doesn’t say ‘hello,’ but she does take in the space around us. Specifically, how much cleaner it is due to my stuff being packed up in boxes. “What are you guys doing?”
I take a deep breath because I really don’t want to bite her head off, not when I’m moving out today. So I give her a big smile and announce, “I’m moving out! You’ll have your living room back later today.”
Despite how happy I thought that would make her, she just gives me a blank stare. “Where are you moving to?”
“With some friends,” I say vaguely.
At the same time, Stacia answers, “With our friend Sam and his pack.”
Cindy’s brow arches. “Sam is an alpha?”
I just stare for a moment, my brain rebooting as I try to come up with a lie, but when it gets too quiet, my head nods on autopilot. “Thatcher, too.”
Annoyance flares over her face. “Isn’t that some kind of omega sin? Moving in with a bunch of alphas you’re not bonded to?”
“That’s an outdated concept,” Rory clips, her grip just a tad bit too tight around my Casper mug.
