Page 85 of Talk About… History

“Hey, guys, there are groceries in the trunk,” I called out. All three of my other packmates immediately went outside to grab the rest. My omega tried to pass by, but I wouldn’t let her, snatching her up and burying my head in her neck, breathing her in like I hadn’t just seen her a few hours earlier.

“Why do you smell so delicious, omega?” I teased.

She let out a small, half-hearted laugh. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have to explain that one to you, beta,” she shot back.

God, I loved the playful side of this omega. It felt like we didn’t get to see her walls come down often, but when we did, she was incredible.

“This house feels better when you’re here,” I admitted, still soaking her in and refusing to let go just yet.

The other guys didn’t protest. They just carried the groceries around us, giving us our moment.

“What are we making?” Ford asked, his stomach rumbling loudly as he passed. With a chuckle, I let her go, following him into the kitchen.

“I figured we’d do something easy—alfredo, garlic bread, and salad tonight,” I said as I started to unload the bags. “Plus, a little white wine to go with it.”

“Oooh, where are the glasses?” Avery asked, turning my way.

“Cabinet above the sink,” I said. She reached for it, but before she could stretch on her tiptoes, Arden was there, pressing himself against her back and grabbing enough glasses for everyone.

Her face warmed, but she didn’t say anything in protest. A small smile formed on her face, and I noticed she didn’t pull away from him this time. I wasn’t sure what exactly had changed this afternoon, but I was grateful for it.

This felt like a real pack now. The disconnect that had been haunting us—the wedge between us—was a lot smaller now.

“I’ll be on salad duty. You do not want me near your stove,” Ford admitted, grabbing the lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, and toppings.

It was strange for the beta to take the lead, but this was my kitchen. I started directing everyone—helping Ford find the large bowl for the salad, setting aside the ingredients and measuring them out for the alfredo sauce. I put Mason on shredding the Parmesan while Arden stepped in to slice up the chicken.

“We need some music,” Ford declared, putting on some folk-style pop music that Avery immediately started singing along to. Apparently, he’d already found her favorite genre.

“Wait, why is it so quiet in here?” I asked, glancing around for my dogs.

“They caught the scent of a rabbit in the yard earlier,” Avery laughed. “They wouldn’t come in.”

Shaking my head, I went to the door, opening it and let out a sharp whistle. Lola and Molly came bounding up the steps, breathless, tails wagging furiously. They greeted me long enough to get a scratch each before they were back off into the yard.

Nothing really came between a beagle and a trail—except maybe food. I knew damn well the next time we opened the door, they’d be running inside, excited for dinner.

Between the music and the light conversation, the kitchen was quickly full of life. I had known I wanted to be part of a pack my whole life. I always knew it was going to be different from what I grew up with.

It wasn’t going to be a cold, spacious house with superficial pack members that I barely knew.

No, I wanted this life—the one full of laughter and conversation, discovering little things about each other and committing them to memory, inside jokes, sneaking bites to the beagles.

I wanted all that, and it was starting to happen right in front of me.

“Hey, you okay?” Avery asked as she danced past, pausing for a second to study me.

“Just appreciating this pack thing, you know?” I said quietly, giving her a soft smile as I tucked a loose strand of her black hair behind her ear.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” she said, just as quietly. “But kind of nice.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said, brushing a kiss over her lips because I couldn’t stand to not touch her, to not kiss her for a moment longer.

“I think I know exactly what I want for dessert,” I teased, letting my fingers ghost down her hips.

Her breath caught before she let out a little chuckle and pushed me away. “You can certainly have that for dessert, but I need to eat first,” she said, dancing away from me again to join Arden in seasoning the chicken and getting it in the hot pan.

It wasn’t long before we had a full spread laid out on the table and two beagles begging at our feet.

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