"Playlist?" Drake asks.
"No lyrics. I need to hear the road."
Drake grumbles. "You're killing my vibe."
"Your vibe will recover," Eli murmurs.
Instrumentals fill the car—some ambient nonsense that sounds like a spa and a spaceship had a baby. The world outside rolls by in smears of green and grey.
Marie leans forward, pointing. "Is that where you used to live?" she asks Drake.
"No. My terrible bachelor pad was three blocks further down and twice as ugly."
She laughs, bright and nervous. Her scent warms, pleased.
I watch the back of her head and try to mute the way my heart is keeping score.
Eli's hand finds my knee. His thumb rubs once over the fabric of my leggings, a quiet, grounding circle. I let my muscles unlock a millimeter.
"Where first?" Jasper asks.
"Nesting store. Then the bookstore. Then maybe the bakery, if you behave."
"I always behave."
I snort. "You sound like someone who schedules their rebellions two weeks in advance."
"Three," he corrects.
Drake cackles. "Oh, he's going to fit right in."
The nesting store smells like heaven and poor impulse control.
Warmth hits us the second we walk in, thick with cotton and synthetic fluff and whatever they pump through the vents to make omegas spend just a little bit more. Displays of blankets and pillows tower in curated color stories. A little sign near the entrance reads BUILD YOUR BEST NEST in loopy script.
"This is where she turns feral," Eli tells Jasper. "Don't touch anything unless she says you can."
"Oh, please. Like I'm territorial about—"
"Last time we came," Drake interrupts, "she hissed at a teenage beta for picking up the last moss-green throw."
"It was the perfect texture! And he was going to use it in acar, Drake. That's sacrilege."
Marie's eyes go wide. "Wow. I've never seen this much fluff in one place."
"Welcome to my church. The altar is that wall over there."
I lead the way, instincts kicking in. My hands find old paths—up this aisle, left at the scented sachets, past the section that's all white and beige for omegas who pretend they don't spill things.
My section is the far back corner. Colors deep enough to drown in. Textures that grab your fingers and don't let go.
I reach for a display pillow, thumb rubbing along the edge. "Okay. Rules. We don't buy anything scratchy. We don't buy anything that pills. We don't buy anything that sheds more than Drake's hair."
"Rude," Drake mutters.
"And we buy whatever I decide is acceptable."
Eli gives Jasper a tiny nod, as if to saythis is normal, I promise. Jasper folds his arms, watching.
