"And Nacho's hoodie. And Pedro's socks. And Sergio's jersey."
His lips twitch. "Quite the collection."
"I'm a goblin."
"You're nesting." His hand comes up to toy with the collar of his flannel. His flannel, on my body. "It's cute."
"It's embarrassing."
"It's omega." Nacho's voice from the stove. Calm. Steady. "Your body knows what it needs. There's no shame in that."
"Easy for you to say. You're not the one hoarding laundry like a deranged magpie."
Sergio makes a sound that might be a laugh. I turn to look at him and find him watching me with an expression I can't read.
"The jersey," he says. "How long have you had that?"
I feel my face heat. "Three days."
"Wondered where it went."
"I can give it back."
"No." His voice is firm. "Keep it."
"But."
"Keep it." He holds my gaze. "It looks better on you anyway."
All four of them are staring at me now, their eyes tracking my every move.
"Dinner," Nacho says, breaking the tension. "Everyone sit. The stew is ready."
I move toward my usual seat. The one between Carlos and Pedro. The one where I'm surrounded by warmth and scent and the low rumble of alpha voices.
Carlos pulls out my chair. Pedro fills my bowl before I can reach for the ladle. Sergio passes me the bread basket without being asked. Nacho sets a glass of water in front of me with the reminder to stay hydrated.
They're taking care of me.
All of them. In small ways. In constant ways.
Like I'm already theirs.
"Eat," Pedro says. His hand brushes my shoulder as he returns to his seat. "You need your strength."
I pick up my spoon.
I look around the table at four men who are watching me like I'm the most precious thing they've ever seen.
I know what I want.
I've always known.
The only question is whether I'm brave enough to take it.
22
CARLOS
