There’s a paper on his chair that says ‘be right back’.
I nod, and Mack holds out a hand, helping me on to the giant pillow. It’s cozier than I could imagine. It sucks you in just the right amount; it’s comforting. Mack grabs a few dark green pillows and lays them down in a way so I can prop up my leg.
“Where’s your project?” he asks.
“On the couch,” I reply, using the same volume he is.
Mack hasn’t done anything to make me believe he’s anything like my old pack and it’s important that I give him a shot to prove who he is, and not persecute him for crimes he hasn’t committed.
I wish my leg wasn’t in a cast or I’d fully be walking around and snooping, instead I just look at what I can. The two main photos he has are of him and his brother. It looks like it’s from when Cole graduated from Air Force bootcamp. Mack must have still been in high school or middle school. The other photo is of him, Cole, and Jonah, all dressed in tuxedos, somewhat smiling.
It’s cute, and I kind of want a copy of it for myself.
His awards are too far away for me to read the inscription. I nestle myself further into this giant cushion and decide I really like Mack’s office. In some ways, it almost reminds me of a nest, with the dimmed lights and cozy nature.
Mack re-enters the room, shutting his door behind him. He has my crochet project, a bottle of water, and a bag of pretzels for me. I take them all with a small smile.
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Aren’t they not supposed to hear me?” I respond, probably coming across more bratty than I want.
It’s the needy, desperate Omega deep inside of me. I can’t help myself.
He gets down on his haunches and really stares at me, almost to where I feel uncomfortable. I want to break our little stare down, but I also won’t be the one to cave first.
“Your last pack hid you?” he asks, though it almost feels more like a statement.
I give him a quick sign of agreement and he grabs my hand, kissing the pulse point of my wrist.
“Okay,” he says.
Okay? Okay, what?
My brows furrow as I watch him walk back over to his desk, removing the piece of paper and sitting in his chair. He grabs his headset off its stand and places it on his head. He leaves his left ear uncovered so he can hear me.
“I’m back. Sorry about that. I needed to get my Omega situated,” he says with a tilt of his lips, glancing at me.
I can see his screen, though I can’t read the small chat box. I doubt he can read the chatter either with how quickly it’s coming in. But it’s evident his viewers are losing their fucking minds.
“If you don’t have anything kind to say, you will be booted,” Mack reiterates, and I smile to myself. “Ifshe makes an appearance, it will be after we’ve discussed it thoroughly, but my private life is private.”
It all makes a lot more sense now and I’m able to take a relieving breath. There’s a difference between being private and being a secret. Mack is letting his fan base know he’s taken, while also protecting me and himself.
I wonder how much he gives to his fans, and how nice it must be to have some things he can just have for himself. My issue with my last pack wasn’t really about being hidden away as much as it was about how they treated me in private.
Mack goes back to playing his game, and it’s a lot easier than I imagined tuning out his gaming chatter. Now and then, he answers some questions, but mostly he’s just playing his game. People really pay to watch other people play games like this?
I keep working on my project, but at some point my eyes get heavier. I’m lulled by Mack’s voice and his thick peppermint scent and being cocooned by the best piece of furniture that was ever made.
Chapter 20
Mack
I should’ve anticipatedher coming up here. I should have discussed my job more and what it meant for our relationship. But I’ve never done this before, never needed to consider someone else's feelings in this way. Jonah and Cole never have expectations of me, but Shiloh does, as she should. I’ve got to do better, and if that means dealing with the unpleasant chatter while I stream, so be it. Nearly a quarter of my viewers are women, and I knew the news wouldn’t go over well. The weird parasocial relationship I have with my viewers makes me want to quit, but in the same breath, it’s why I don’t.
I’ve spent so much time building this base up, creating this community. While I love it, there’s also a heavy burden of dealing with strangers on the internet. I want to protect Shiloh from that, and I can only hope that I can manage my temper. Especially as I read the chatter rolling in:
I’m actually crying over him being taken.
