But besides that, we’re treating her like any other recruit while still giving appropriate consideration to her biological needs.
The nest room that was here already wasn’t good enough. It was small and lackluster. It’s important that our trainee feels comfortable and safe. It won’t be good for anyone if she’s too stressed from a poor environment to perform on the job. That’s why we built her a bigger, better nest.
We stocked it with the basic things, pillows and such, so it wouldn’t look empty. Hestia can fill it with her own things and remove whatever she doesn’t like.
We redid the rest of her suite while we were at it. Fixing up the bathroom, bedroom, and sitting room, plus new furniture for those rooms too. It just made sense to renovate everything at once.
Now that everything is in place, I do one last deep clean in case we tracked in any dust or dirt. Magnus goes over thebathroom and stocks it with all the personal care products we bought her.
I wish I knew if Hestia needed anything else. We haven’t talked to her beyond a few texts, seeing if she arrived safely. We didn’t want to seem overprotective and ask for all the details about her travel arrangements. Normally we would be more involved, but we’re too in our heads about whether it will seem like we’re overbearing alphas trying to care for an omega.
Orion sent her an info packet about our region and asked the other rescuers to meet with her in our stead. They’re great people, and I’m sure they showed her around town and helped her find anything she needs. I comfort myself with that thought.
It only takes two hours to clean everything, leaving the wood furniture gleaming and bathroom sparkling.
Magnus and I do one last spot check, and Cato wanders behind us, readjusting things to whatever strange decorating ideas he has—skewing pillows and moving a clock from one shelf to another.
We all need to get this out of our system before our omega joins us.
I don’t understandwhywe’re acting like this though. I mean, I understand the biological urges, but my alpha has never acted like this before. It’s not like I’m concerned about an omega working as a rescuer. It must be the close quarters that has us out of sorts. We haven’t dated in years, and our pack is closed to new members, so we aren’t even looking for a mate.
That must be where this stems from, instincts firing back up now that there will be an omega around.
Once Hestia settles in, I’m sure our instincts will settle too, and she’ll be just another trainee.
Chapter 4
Hestia
Ican’t stop messing with my hair, tucking the loose strands into my ponytail or under my knit hat, trying to stop them from blowing into my face and sticking to my lip balm. No matter how I tie up my hair, some of it always escapes. Normally I can ignore it, but I want to make a good first impression.
I’m not even sure I was this nervous on my first day at the academy. I was excited and hopeful, not worried about whether my classmates would like me. I knew I could prove my skills to the professors, show them I can do this no matter my designation.
Now I’m older, wiser, and warier.
I didn’t experience any major pushback at the academy, but the subtle questioning and jabs built up over the years. I’m hesitant when I meet new people. I was always treated slightly differently, and had more eyes on me even though I graduated with top marks.
The stakes are even higher now because if my team doesn’t think I can do the job, I won’t pass the training.
Part of proving I can do this is looking competent, and not like I’m a mess.
If only I could stop fidgeting and touching my hair and readjusting my coat and pulling my mittens on and off.
Maybe I should have waited inside until they arrived, but I wanted to appear eager and ready to work. That’s why I’m out in the cold in front of the Fools Rush Inn with all my things.
And now it’s snowing.
The flakes are big and fluffy, and they keep landing on my eyelashes, so now I’m blinking rapidly in addition to the other nervous fidgeting.
I shouldn’t have been so eager that I came out thirty minutes before they’re supposed to arrive.
I don’t want to lug everything back inside. I look at front doors wistfully, the warm glow of the lights tempting, a cozy beacon on a snowy day.
No.
I turn away resolutely. I’m capable of handling the elements. It’s just anxiety making me want to hide in a dark, comfortable place to soothe my emotions.
Instead, I think about how snowfall increases the risk of injury and the measures people should take to prevent accidents. Focusing on the research will stop the anxious thoughts.
