“…Okay,” I say quietly, the fight draining out of me.
Grason slides one arm under my knees and the other around my back, lifting me with careful ease. The movement is smooth and controlled, like he’s afraid of jostling me, and he carries me into the next room without a word.
The ice pack stays lodged between my legs as we move.
Warren has already pulled out a chair for me. Grason lowers me into it just as carefully, making sure I’m steady before letting go.
“Thank you,” I whisper once I’m settled.
The tall alpha meets my eyes, his expression open and earnest. “You’re welcome,” he whispers just as softly.
The long table is already set when we sit down, plates and silverware laid out with quiet care as Beck and Warren finish bringing over the last of the dishes.
Cass makes his way to the table a few steps behind everyone else, moving carefully with a cane, the steady tapof it a soft counterpoint to the clink of dishes. I’m glad to see he isn’t being careless with his injury.
During my heat, there were more than a few moments when I was convinced he was going to snap his leg clean in half.
He takes the chair at the head of the table, right beside mine, and the sight of it sends a small, unexpected swell of relief through my chest.
Beck offers me some wine, but I shake my head, choosing water instead. The food is simple, warm, and clearly made with care. It’s also a little rich right after a heat.
Omegas are supposed to ease back in with bland, gentle foods so their stomachs don’t revolt. I know that, but I also don’t care. I’m starving.
Everyone sits, then digs in. Beck takes the chair next to me, with Warren and Grason across from us. I wait for the alphas to serve themselves first, then I reach for a pork chop as well as a dinner roll. Then I eat until the hollow ache in my belly finally eases and my shoulders start to loosen.
Beck watches me for a second, then gestures with his fork toward a small pot near his elbow. “I made mac and cheese too,” he says hopefully. “If you want some.”
I glance at it, my mouth literally watering, but force myself to shake my head. “Not tonight.”
His face falls immediately. “Oh. I just—” He trails off for a second, then grimaces slightly. “I wanted to make you some of your favorite foods. But you were sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake you up.”
My chest tightens a little at that. "I actually love mac and cheese," I tell him quickly. "It's just an omega thing. We have to be careful with rich food right after our heat."
Clear guilt hits Beck hard and fast. His shouldersslump, eyes wide. “Oh my god. I didn’t even think about that.” His mouth falls open. “I should’ve known. I’m sorry, Tansy. I didn’t?—”
“Hey,” I cut in gently, shaking my head. “It’s really not a big deal. Most people don’t know that stuff unless they’re taught. And you did great.” I nod at the table, the food, the care woven into all of it. “This is perfect. I don’t think I’ve ever had a pork chop this delicious before.”
The beta studies my face like he’s making sure I mean it, then exhales, tension easing out of him. “Okay,” he says softly. “Next time, though. I’ll make it when you can actually enjoy it.”
I smile at that and take another bite of my soft roll, warmth settling a little deeper into my bones.
Cass clears his throat beside me, the sound low and deliberate, like he’s been waiting for a break in the conversation. I glance over and find his attention fixed on me, expression careful in a way that makes my chest tighten.
“After dinner,” he says quietly, “would you like to see your nesting room?” The words land gently, offered instead of commanding me. “Grason set it up,” he adds.
Grason straightens a little at the mention of his name. “You can change it however you want,” he says quickly. “Move things. Add stuff. Whatever?—”
There’s a sharp smack, quick and precise.
Warren’s hand clips the back of Grason’s head without even looking at him.
Grason freezes, then immediately ducks his head, shoulders hunching as he clamps his mouth shut, eyes dropping to his plate like he’s just been reminded of something important.
The table goes quiet for half a beat.
Beck blinks, looking between them. “What the hell was that?” he asks, brow furrowing.
Cass exhales slowly through his nose, one hand lifting in a subtle gesture, telling everyone to let it go, and the easy noise of dinner resumes a second later. But I don’t miss the way Grason stays carefully silent after that. Or the way Warren keeps his gaze firmly on his food, jaw set tight.
