Sandra’s expression softens. She shifts her weight, giving me her full attention. "Of course. You can tell me anything, Oli."
"I left a part out when we talked about it before." I look down at my hands. "Before you walked into the Lucky Road that night, I had a lot of insecurities about not being able to carry a baby. When we realized you were our scent-match, I was terrified."
Sandra reaches across the drop cloth, wrapping her warm fingers around my wrist. She doesn't offer empty platitudes or pity.
I force myself to meet her eyes, needing her to see the absolute truth. "I was terrified that I would be jealous. I thought that watching another Omega give our pack the child I could never carry would break me."
A tear slips down Sandra’s cheek, cutting a path through a faint smudge of blue dust on her skin. She squeezes my wrist tighter.
"But I was so wrong." I flip my hand over, tangling my fingers with hers. "I’m not jealous, Sandra. Not even for a single second. I look at you, and I look at this bump, and I just feel complete. I feel like this is our shared miracle. You're giving us a family, and I feel like this little girl is just as much mine as she is anyone else's in this house."
Sandra lets out a sob. She shifts forward, throwing her arms around my neck. I catch her, wrapping my arms tight aroundher waist, being careful of the bump pressing between us. My honeysuckle scent flares, bright and overwhelming, mixing with her sweet jasmine.
"She is your baby, Oli." She buries her face in my shoulder, her tears soaking through my t-shirt. "You're going to be a parent. This little girl is going to have two Omegas to spoil her rotten."
I laugh, blinking back my own tears. I rub my hands up and down her back, feeling the tension knotted tight in her muscles. She’s carrying the physical weight for all of us, and the strain is obvious in the rigid line of her spine.
She pulls back, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist. She tries to shift her legs, but a wince escapes her lips. She brings a hand around to massage her lower lumbar, her breath hitching.
"Okay, that's it." I push myself up off the floor. I reach down, gripping her hands, and carefully haul her to her feet. "The paint and tape are pausing. You are hurting, and I am putting a stop to it right now."
Sandra tries to wave me off, a stubborn set to her jaw. "Oli, really, I just need to stretch—"
"You need to lie down." I wrap an arm around her waist, guiding her away from the drop cloths and the half-painted wall. "The Alphas aren't the only ones who get to take care of you. I'm taking you to the nest, and I am going to spoil you until you forget what back pain even feels like."
She looks at me, the argument dying in her throat when she sees the absolute determination in my eyes. She lets out a long, conceding sigh, leaning her weight against my side.
"Lead the way."
The nest is a sanctuary of heavy blackout curtains and massive, oversized pillows. The scent of our pack, smoke, ginger, and dates, saturates the mattress. It provides a constant, comforting reminder of the Alphas who keep us grounded.
I lead Sandra over to the sprawling nest. The late afternoon sun tries to peek through the edges of the curtains, casting a dim, golden glow over the room.
"Lie down." I grab a few of the thickest memory foam pillows. "On your side. Let's get the weight off your back."
She lets out a long groan of relief, settling onto her left side. I wedge a firm pillow under her right knee to keep her hips aligned and tuck another one against her back for support. I don't rush anything. I just want her to feel safe and comfortable.
I sit on the mattress right behind her and grab a bottle of massage oil from the nightstand. I pump a generous amount into my palms, rubbing my hands together to heat the slick liquid.
She wears Ross’s oversized gray t-shirt and maternity leggings. I start at the base of her neck, pushing the cotton collar aside to press my warm, oiled palms into her tight muscles. I use slow, gliding strokes, working my way across her shoulders.
Sandra drops her head forward with a heavy sigh. "God, that feels amazing."
"Your muscles are carrying so much extra tension." I drag my thumbs down the sides of her spine, but the thick fabric of her shirt gets in the way of a proper glide. I stop, resting my hands lightly on her shoulders. "I could relieve a lot more of that pressure if we get this shirt out of the way. Is that okay?"
She nods without hesitation. She pushes herself up just enough to let me pull the heavy cotton over her head and toss it onto the floor. I unfasten her maternity bra next, slipping the straps down her arms to set it aside.
She settles back onto the pillows, her bare back and shoulders exposed to the dim light. Her skin is flushed.
I add more oil to my hands. I start back at the base of her neck, right over Jethro’s bite mark, and work my way down. I press my thumbs into the tight muscles running along her spine.I’m hyper-aware of her, ensuring my pressure is firm enough to relieve the aches but gentle enough to keep safe.
I reach her lower lumbar, where the weight of the baby pulls everything forward. I use the heels of my hands to knead the deep knots sitting right above her hips, pushing the tension out in slow, sweeping motions to relieve the pressure.
Sandra melts into the mattress. Her breathing slows, turning deep and even. Her sweet scent of jasmine and sage shifts, losing the sharp edge of exhaustion and blooming into a rich, heady aroma.
I trace the tight, stretched skin of her sides, my thumbs brushing over the stretch marks beginning to branch across her hips. I lean down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss right over one of the silver lines.
"You're so beautiful." I trace the mark with my tongue, tasting the salt on her skin. "Your body is doing something incredible. You carry the weight for all of us."
