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This is what coming home is like.
I think about that the next morning, after a lot more sex, as we all lie on the bed, limbs tangled together, the covers haphazardly pulled over us.
They were kind of relentless, courting me in their own simple, non-flashy way. Hanging around. Caring about the girl I cared about. Trying to help her. To help me. Hinting at wanting me. Wanting us.
It took me a while, but somewhere along the line, I fell for them.
It’s impossible not to love them. Not to reach for them. Somewhere inside my anxiety is stirring, poking at me, reminding me of Potato going hungry, of the café, of having to ask Bee to feed my cat and keep my business from going under.
About Brinlee’s brother and debts.
About my debt and my parents.
My mind is trying to throw me back into the usual pool of stress where I constantly struggle not to drown—but I’m not alone. Not alone. Sure, I’ll keep struggling, but the thought of all these wonderful people waiting for me at home in the evenings, trying to help me solve the problems, listening to me, holding me, wanting to help me, it just… it makes everything better.
I’m kinda jealous that they all work at the same place and get to see each other all day.
But I love my Book Café, and I like hanging out there with my friends. If I can keep it… God, I wish I could keep it, but if I have to let it go, then I know I won’t die of sorrow, because I’ll have my pack, and that is a game changer.
My pretty, spirited delta girl.
My graceful, peacekeeping beta boy.
My damaged, growly blond alpha.
And my protective, broody, dark top alpha.
I’ve never felt more at peace with myself and the world than I do now. Trial run, my ass. This pack is my pack now, too, and I’ll spend the rest of my life paying back the favor that fate made me when it sent them into my path.
A WEEK LATER
46
SAWYER
Three days lost in my heat, and then trying to decide where to live, how to arrange our schedules so we coincide enough to spend some time together. We settled on living at the McGraw Pack apartment since it’s bigger and the bed is extendable enough to accommodate us all.
And then we helped Brinlee move her stuff from her horrible little apartment there, too.
Which leaves… me.
And Potato.
Potato likes the boxes I have brought to the apartment, because he is a cat, and he thinks they have been brought in for his personal entertainment.
Which means I keep having to fish him out of them as I pack my belongings away. The idea is to rent out the apartment, and that income will also help pay my debt and Brinlee’s.
Turns out she hadn’t gone to a loan shark, after all, thank fuck. Makes things so much simpler. Knowing she isn’t in mortal danger from the street mafia is doing wonders for my anxiety, as in, I’m slightly more relaxed.
The guys are coming over today to help me carry away some of the boxes, and it’s finally time for the pack to meet… the cat.
The doorbell rings, and I buzz them up. I crack the door open, mindful of Potato winding around my legs, meowing and trying to get his little head out the door.
“Potato, no. Back. I said, back.” I end up picking him up, and he starts purring when I stroke him behind the ears. “Good kitty.”
Of course, as three familiar broad-shouldered men come up the steps, he turns into a ball of claws and spitting fury.
“Easy, boy, easy… Friends. They’re friends, okay?”
