***
Dinner feels almost sacred in its hush, and I can’t help grinning at the silence. That has to mean something good—big, wonderful news is coming.
Our home never clamors with noise—I designed Ragon to be a sanctuary, and Eli always speaks in thoughtful waves instead of bursts. Drake usually fills the gaps, cracking jokes about the hospital cafeteria, flirting shamelessly with me, spinning wild tales about the other alphas on his unit. But tonight he simply eats, and the emptiness between bites makes my pulse race with anticipation.
He pushes his mashed potatoes around his plate, eyes flicking up at me and away again so often it feels like waiting for a firework to burst. Eli is equally still, as if he’s deciphering a secret message in his fork tines. Ragon eats with that familiar, unshakable control, but his scent has shifted—tauter and electric, like energy waiting to release in a spectacular flare.
I take a bite of chicken and catch myself wanting it to taste like celebration. It does taste fine—rosemary and lemon, exactly what I intended—but in my mouth it feels weightless, like it’s dancing with possibility instead of flavor.
“So,” I say, too sweetly, and try to steady my breath, “the nesting store was incredible. Thank you—really, thank you.”
All three heads lift as if I’ve whispered a spell that pulled their strings. Drake’s lips curl into an eager smile that falters at the corners. “You’re welcome. You deserve every perfect thing.”
Eli emits a soft, pleased murmur. Ragon holds my gaze, his bright blue eyes blazing steady, unreadable—and thrilling. My skin prickles with hope.
I press on, voice light. “I can’t stop picturing that moon pillow at the head of my nest.”
“It suits you,” Eli says quietly, and even that small compliment feels like the key clicking in a lock.
I swallow hard, my heart pounding. “Today was so good,” I admit, feeling the words glow on my tongue. “Really good.”
“It was perfect,” Drake agrees softly, eyes down, voice hushed as though he’s saving breath for the big moment.
My heart skips. Perfect means they know how much I need this. Perfect means this is the night.
We glide through the rest of the meal on a current of excitement. Eli asks about the new bakery down the street I’ve been dying to try. Drake talks about his next shift, a grin tugging at his voice. Ragon gently inquires which groceries we should restock for those late-night midnight cravings. Every question feels like a drumbeat leading to the crescendo I’m longing for.
When the plates are clear, I push back my chair, unable to hide my eagerness. “Let me clean up—”
“No,” Ragon says softly but firmly, and I catch the gleam of resolve in his scent. “We’ll all help.”
In minutes, the kitchen is sparkling. Ragon rinses and stacks with brisk efficiency; Eli arranges everything in the dishwasher with precise satisfaction; Drake hums a victory tune as he dries and puts away pans. Each clink and splash feels like a celebratory percussion.
When the last dish is tucked away, Ragon straightens, his scent humming with certainty. “Living room,” he announces.
My heart leaps so high I almost laugh. Perfect. This is it.
Drake pats the couch beside him with a tentative smile. Eli settles beside me, eyes warm. I sink into the worn leather, inhaling the familiar mix of candle spice and us. It’s like a cozy invitation, and I feel a fluttering thrill beneath my ribs.
We sit, breath caught, like the calm before fireworks erupt. No one needs to speak. I already know what’s coming. My alphas are about to ask me to make it official. A whole month early.
The clock in the hallway ticks. A car drives by outside. Someone a few houses down laughs loud enough to be heard through the window.
"Okay," I finally say, because silence is worse. "So. Talk."
Drake looks at Eli. Eli looks at Ragon.
"Two months ago," Drake says, every word clearly costing him, "I smelled someone at the hospital."
My throat closes.
No.
No, no, no.
"An omega?" My voice sounds thin, far away.
He nods. "She'd been in a minor car wreck. Just bruises and a sprain. She was scared. I went to check on her and… Vee, the second I got close it was like getting hit with a freight train. My whole body just—reacted."
