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A throb of heat hits between my hips, and my fingers clutch at Jonah’s beard. Which reminds me…
“Oh God,” I groan. “Did I—push you between my legs again?”
“Only every day,” my big man replies with pride, then bounces his bushy eyebrows at me. “Ave was jealous. But I told him that’s our thing.”
My fighter rolls his eyes before smacking another kiss onto my arm, flashing me his bedroom eyes. “In case you were wondering, kitten, our thing is doggy style.”
I cut him a look. “How romantic.”
Of course, the barb only makes him smile more. Spencer laughs quietly as he sits at Jonah’s side, turning to his brother. As soon as Tristan’s eyes blink open and he sees us, a rush of new emotions floods our bond.
There’s joy and love and gratitude. Pride for his pack. And then a complicated mix of things that make no sense to me.
Whatever it is, the humor falls off all of their faces. Jonah sighs, lifting me off his lap and turning me to face them as Tristan meets each of their gazes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, turning from face to sober face. “Guys?”
It’s amazing how calm I feel.
When I first came to this house, the smallest hint of unhappiness from any of them would have sent me spiraling. Now, I know it isn’t anything to do with us.
But it turns out to have everything to do with me.
Tristan kisses me slowly and then frames my face in his hands as he stares into my eyes. “Sweet baby,” he sighs, “there’s something we need to tell you.”
chapter
sixty-eight
*Dumbest Assholes Alive*
Avery changed the group chat name to The *Luckiest* Assholes Alive
Jonah
yeah, good call.
The Sunday after my heat is warm and sunny. A perfect day for a picnic—which is exactly what the guys have planned for all of us.
This park is lovely. A large patch of greenery and ancient oak trees, sprawled between picturesque brick streets, lined with sunny little shops and posh restaurants. Off to the side, I spy a pretty peacock fountain surrounded by a colorful rose garden.
I wish the setting were enough to help me feel better. But my stomach seethes, protesting the panic churning there.
I have my interior curtain up, not wanting to swamp the guys with my anxiety. Besides, if they know how upset I am, they might try to talk me out of this. And it’s taken seven days for me to talk myself into it, so.
Soft kisses sink through the hair on my crown. “Beautiful baby girl,” Tristan hums, tucking me into his suited-up side. “You look so gorgeous today.”
It’s just a crop top and a black denim skirt. I didn’t know what to wear to meet the omega who might potentially be my long-lost sister.
Twin, my mind corrects.
That little piece of info was added after the initial batch. When my heat broke, and my alphas told me about the man who had approached them at Avery’s fight, they only knew his omega was friends with Meg Ash, a fellow orphan, and, apparently, identical to me.
It wasn’t until a couple of days after my heat, when he started slowly getting back to real life, that Tristan reached back out to the Pierson pack and got a copy of their omega’s birth certificate.
Not only do we have the same woman—Alana Skyes—listed as our birth mother. We also have the same birthday.
Jonah is, of course, the first to see past the mask I’m wearing. He sighs, bending forward to balance his forearms on his knees. His warm eyes trace my face from his place across the limo while his features crease, wincing.
