Page 97 of My Knotty Mountain Men

Violet

The past few weeks have been nothing short of amazing. Every day, I wake up so thankful for the pack I have and the life we’re building together.

We’ve settled into a nice routine. Every night, I get to be sandwiched between the men who mean the world to me and wake up with them still by my side.

They go to work, and I either hang out around the house or go with one of them.

I haven’t had much time to be bored, using whatever free time I have to mess with my room and nest, getting both of them just right.

The guys have been saints because I may have asked them to change the room color... twice. It seemed nice on the paint sample, but once it was all over the walls, it felt wrong.

I cried. Yup, full-on sobbed. I blame it on the pregnancy hormones or just my picky Omega nature for needing a perfect nest. But the guys didn’t bat an eye and jumped to work with me until we found the perfect color.

After we got the wall colors out of the way, it was getting the right furniture and its placement. Different rooms called for different things. My bedroom has a queen bed on this gorgeous bed frame, bookshelves that line the walls—which are already filled with all my books from my Calling Wood home—basic dresser, desk, and nightstands that you would find in bedrooms. But they’re all in styles and colors I like.

My nest is entirely different. It has a king size bed that takes over most of the floor space, a mini fridge in the corner, a smallnight table, and an obscene amount of fairy lights. That's it for furniture. I like my nests as clutter-free as possible.

Of course, that doesn’t count when it comes to blankets and pillows. I have so many that I could get lost in them for days. And every time we go out, I seem to find something new to buy and add to the collection.

I don’t remember my need for them being this bad before. Maybe it’s another pregnancy thing? I’ve read that Omegas can crave their nest more while pregnant, and boy, has that proven to be true.

The amount of times the guys find me in my nest when they come home, curled up, sleeping, or just reading a book is pretty much every time.

Honestly, I’m not even sure why I bothered letting them make one of the rooms into my very own bedroom, seeing as how I don’t think I’ve used it once.

I’m either in my nest or in the pack room.

Nolan pointed out that it would be a good thing to have because, at some point, I’m going to need my own space away from the guys and the babies.

My nest is also a space no one is allowed in. My bedroom, on the other hand, is not so strict.

I may have growled at Aiden when he came to get me for supper one time. Then I cried and felt bad, but he said he was the one who was sorry because he should have known better.

That's another thing I’ve never done before—been so territorial over my nest. Yes, it’s a sacred place that not many are welcome into. It’s my safe place for only me.

My friends have come into my nest back home a few times, and I didn’t feel like biting their heads off because I trusted them.

And I trust the guys, I do, yet I don’t want them in there. The idea of anyone coming into my nest and moving a single thing out of place makes me want to rage.

Another thought I’ve had was that all this is due to me finally having my first heat. Before, I had never truly felt all the things an Omega did. Now that I have, things have changed and are more intense?

I don’t know, and I may never know.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter, grunting as I try to pull myself out of my Jeep. Well, not my Jeep, Nolan’s Jeep, but seeing as how I’m the only one who drives it, I’ve claimed it.

Huffing, I manage to wiggle my way out of the Jeep and onto the ground. “I need to adjust the damn steering wheel,” I grumble, glaring at the wheel like it kicked my dog.

I might be a little pissy today. But I have every right to be, seeing as how it’s been a shitty day since the moment I woke up.

I’m twenty weeks pregnant now, and my belly has grown what feels like overnight. I almost can’t see my own feet, and anytime I look at myself in the mirror, I cry.

It doesn’t matter how many times the guys call me sexy and obsess over my body, I don’t feel it. I think I just need to get used to the changes.

It’s not that I think I’m ugly or anything; it’s the fact that my belly is a lot bigger than the average pregnant woman’s at twenty weeks. And I’m only halfway done with my pregnancy.How big am I going to get? Am I going to need the guys to roll me around?

The thought has angry tears springing to my eyes.

I swear if I didn’t just have my eighteen-week check-up, I’d think I was having twins or even triplets. But nope, my doctor confirmed there was still only one baby in there.

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