The lights are low. My blankets are piled everywhere, soft and familiar, and I’m curled on my side in a pair of tiny cotton shorts and a loose shirt that smells faintly like Warren for some reason.
Beck is stretched out beside me, his socked feet crossed at the ankles, wearing one of his oversized sweaters that makes him look even softer than usual.
“But the problem is that Warren didn’t clean out the pan after cooking the first batch of bacon,” Beck says, mid-story. “He just slaps in more without thinking about it.” He claps his hands together sharply. “The grease explodes.” Beck’s eyes go wide, and I lean in. “It’severywhere, popping like gunfire. It hits the cabinets. The backsplash. The ceiling.” Beck’s hands move dramatically, playing it all out. “Iswear some of it achieved orbit.” The beta pauses, giving me a dramatic look. “And then the pan catches fire.”
I gasp.
“So of course, Warren panics,” Beck says, “and tosses the damn thing into the sink and turns the water on high.”
“No!” I cover my mouth.
“Oh, yes,” Beck nods. “A wave of hot grease and water erupts from the sink. Warren springs back,” Beck hops up onto his knees in the middle of my nest, fully committed to the story. “His bare feet slide right through the grease he just spilled. And he falls back, flat on his ass.” Beck throws himself backward onto the blankets with a loudthump. “He just laid there. Covered in soot, water, and grease, the soles of his feet burning and his pride mortally wounded.”
I feel awful, but I lose it. Laughter bursts out of me, loud and uncontrollable, my stomach aching as I curl forward. “That’s awful!”
Beck sits up, smiling widely. “And that’s why Warren doesn’t cook anymore.”
I wipe at my eyes, still laughing. “I feel so bad for him.” I place my hand on my chest. “That poor baby.”
“Poorus,” Beck corrects. “We were cleaning congealed grease off the ceiling for weeks.”
“Well, I’ll make sure not to ask for his help in the kitchen.” I reach for another gummy bear, popping it into my mouth.
“He’s a much better handyman anyway.” Beck snuggles back up against my side, grabbing a handful of gummies and pouring them into his mouth.
The snacks are scattered around us like we planned for a siege. Half a plate of cookies. An open bag of chips. One box of crackers demolished, the other still somehow sealed.
“How are you feeling?” Beck shifts onto his side to faceme, propping his head on his hand. “You good?” he asks as those bright blue eyes scan my face.
I nod without hesitation. “Yeah. I really am.” And for once, I don’t feel like I’m lying. I just feel happy. And light. “I think Cass is working overtime, flooding our bond with all his feel-good vibes.” I tap my temple.
Beck hums like that sounds amazing. “The perks of a mental bond. Built-in serotonin boosters if your mates are nice.”
“Hey, do you—” I hesitate for a second, not sure if I should ask my next question, but Beck leans in, eyes wide, like he’ll die if I don’t finish my thought. “Do you have that with Cass?” I ask carefully. “A mental bond, I mean.”
Beck shakes his head once. “No,” he says simply.
My stomach drops. “Oh. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”
“It’s okay,” he says with a sweet laugh. “Really.” He looks right into my eyes. “A lot of betas don’t have mental bonds with their alphas. It’s actually pretty common.”
That makes me feel a little better, but I still study his face. “Does that ever…bother you?”
He’s quiet for a moment, eyes drifting to the ceiling like he’s trying to remember. “Not now,” he says honestly. “But at first, it did.”
My chest tightens for him.
“I used to worry that it meant we were missing something in our relationship,” he continues. “Like Cass and I weren’t really mates if I couldn’t feel him.”
I nod slowly, listening.
“But I realized a long time ago how silly that was.” He reaches for another gummy bear. “I don’t need to feel Cass in my head to know how much he loves me. He shows me every day. In a hundred little ways. Same with Warren and Gray.” He pops the gummy bear in his mouth. “Lovedoesn’t only live in bonds. It lives in actions. And our boys are very good at showing their love.”
Something warm settles in my chest. “I like that," I say quietly. “And it makes sense. I mean, I’m only connected to Cass, but I know that Warren and Grason feel deeply for me.”
“They really do,” Beck says, like he’s relieved I know that. “I remember not long after Cass mated me, I was pretty sad we didn’t have a bond. He sat me down and explained that it was a lot like with family. That while I didn’t have a mental bond with my parents, I knew, without question, that they loved me .” He shrugs lightly. “You don’t need a voice in your head to prove love is real.”
That lands somewhere tender in my chest, and my thoughts suddenly drift somewhere else entirely.To my parents.
