While he explains, his voice confident, I sneak glances at his profile in the light. The line of his strong jaw, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones, and just how ridiculously handsome he is.
I should be focusing on the screen as he enters details from his own phone. Instead, I’m staring at his mouth and trying not to think about how quickly comfort could turn into desire.
“Since I’m in here,” he says, tapping my phone screen, “I’m adding our numbers. Because the fact that we’ve been your neighbors for a month and we’re not in your contacts is personally offensive.”
“You’re in my bookmarks. The ManBaker page.”
“That’s where fans and stalkers go. You get the direct line.” He hands me his phone. “Your turn. Add yourself.”
I’m saved as Sunshine with a flame emoji, and I type in my number before handing it back. He pockets it, sets my phone down, and pulls me closer.
For a moment, we just sit there, the fire I forgot to light still dark, rain picking up outside and pebbling against the windows, while Damien purrs near my thigh.
I press my face into Brody’s neck, breathing easier now.
“Come on,” he murmurs after a minute, his mouth brushing my hair. “I’m making you my famous chai. Then I’m holding you against me until you forget every worrying thought you had today. All while watching a funny movie.”
A laugh slips out of me. “I’d love that.”
“You’re going to thank me.” He eases off the couch and heads toward the kitchen as if he’s lived here for years. I should get up and show him where everything is, but I pull my legs under me instead, watching him open the wrong cupboard, pause, then try the next one with absolute confidence.
He’s amazing, and for a few fragile seconds, the jealousy quiets under the simple fact of him being here. But it doesn’t disappear.
It’s still there beneath my heart, hot and greedy, reminding me that Brody isn’t the only one I need in this room. I burn for Corey’s warmth at my side and Jakob’s steady presence at my back. I yearn for all three of them to be right next to me, not next to their old Omega, and the jealousy aches hotter because I know it isn’t fair, but knowing doesn’t make it hurt less.
24
CLAIRE
“Go, go. YES!” Corey’s on his feet beside me, fist raised, and on the field below, Jakob has just driven through two defenders and planted the ball over the try line with enough force to crack the earth beneath it. The ground shivers under my boots, or maybe that’s me, because Jakob in rugby shorts is a category of visual stimulus my nervous system was not built to handle.
The crowd around us erupts. The benches along the grass are full, and the ones that aren’t have people standing behind them, coffee cups in hand, scarves pulled up against the morning chill. A food stand near the far end pumps the smell of grilled onions and mustard across the field, mixing with cut grass and damp earth and the distant salt-edge of the sea.
But I can’t smell any of it, not properly, anyway, because I’m sitting between two Alphas whose scents are wrapping around me.
Jakob jogs back to position without celebrating. He just rolls his shoulders, shakes the sweat from his curls, and slots back into the line with the calm of a man who expected to score and sees no reason to cheer. His thighs are enormous in those shorts, the jersey straining across his chest and shoulders, and when hebends to brace for the next play, the muscles in his back shift beneath the fabric and my thighs press together. All while my fingers curl around the edge of the bench.
This should be the perfect morning, with the ocean glinting beyond the harbor, my Alphas on either side of me, one of them dominating a field forty yards away. It should be everything.
Except Trudy’s sitting on the other side of Brody, and the jealousy in my chest is a beast.
She’s different today. Clean hair, dark and glossy, tied back in a low knot. Color in her cheeks from last night’s sleep and this morning’s breakfast, which Corey made, because he told me. She’s wearing a cream sweater that hangs off her thin shoulders and dark jeans cuffed at the ankle, and she’s pretty. Wide brown eyes and a mouth that smiles slowly, as if she’s checking first whether it’s safe.
I totally understand why they loved her, and I hate even more that seeing this doesn’t make her a villain. It makes her real.
Earlier, Brody asked if I minded her coming.Of course not, I said, because what was the option? Say no and become the Omega who can’t share a bench at a rugby game? They told me she won’t stay long, just needs a few days, and the rational part of my brain, the sliver that isn’t currently baring its teeth, has decided it won’t be long until she leaves.
But I’ve never shared Alphas before. And the primal core of me, the Omega wiring that runs deeper than logic, is screaming that these men are mine and every second Trudy sits beside them is a second she’s breathing air that belongs to me.
The hypocrisy isn’t lost on me. Three men share me, one Omega, yet the thought of sharing them with anyone? My stomach cramps so hard I press my fist against it.
“Last time we watched Jakob play,” Trudy says to Brody, leaning past his shoulder, “that fullback tried to stiff-arm him,and Jakob just stood there. Didn’t even move. The guy bounced off him and fell on his own ass.”
Brody laughs at a shared history, to a time I wasn’t part of.
The blade twists.
Then Corey’s arm slides around my back and hauls me against his side harshly, his lips pressing to my temple. “Missed you last night.”
