Page 31 of Finding Forever with the Alpha Pack

When Conrad joins us, he pauses, dropping the flooring samples as his eyes go wide, staring at how Grace has arranged the chips. He turns to me, his mouth moving silently as he mouths,She knows.Bending down, he picks up the samples, his movements almost dazed. Grace bends to help him, a soft smile on her lips.

"Are you okay, Con?" she asks gently, her tone filled with warmth.

As I watch her kneeling there, helping him, it hits me like a freight train.Three different colors. Three pups.My gaze flicks between the walls and Grace’s peaceful expression, and I feel my heart swell. If her choices are indicative of what she’s having … two boys and a girl.

I pull out my phone, hands still trembling with excitement, and snap a quick panorama of the room, focusing on placing the paint chips. I send it to the guys-only group chat with a single instruction:Don’t respond.This is Grace’s moment, and when she fully realizes what’s coming, she’s going to be ecstatic. But I also know how much it’ll overwhelm her.

Tucking my phone away, I turn back to Grace and Conrad, my grin threatening to split my face in two.Three babies.A beautiful chaos of little feet and cries and laughter. And I’ll be there, every step of the way. For now, though, I keep the excitement bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to let it out.

Graceand I sit cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by fabric swatches and flooring samples scattered around us like some kind of chaotic art project. I watch her delicate fingers trail over the pieces, her brows furrowed in concentration. Her choices are narrowed down to five for the flooring, and I’ve lost track of how many times she’s switched up the fabric selections.

“Here’s what I’m thinking…” she murmurs, her eyes flickering with uncertainty as she lifts one swatch, then drops it, picking up another. The way she bites her bottom lip, deep in thought, makes me smile. Even now, when she’s focused on something as mundane as interior design, there’s a fierceness to her that’s undeniable.

Conrad and Nicolai ran out to our mom’s hardware store to grab the paint quarts I need for the walls. Griffin and Ethan are on duty, watching the older kids, giving us some much-needed breathing room. I can hear their laughter drifting up from outside, light and carefree. Lorcan lounges on Grace’s bed nearby, eyes half-closed but ever vigilant, ready to jump in at a moment’s notice.

“I’m back!” Conrad’s voice echoes from the hallway just before he steps into the room, holding three paint cans like trophies.

I stand up, stretching my legs, and then offer Grace my hands, helping her to her feet. “Let’s get you off the floor, Gracie, and let Conrad and I paint the bottom foot of these walls. Then you can put the flooring and material against them to see what looks best.”

“Sounds good,” she says, but her words are accompanied by a wide yawn. “Do you mind if I nap while I wait? I’m tired again.”

I feel a pang in my chest, a mix of concern and tenderness as I wrap an arm around her waist and lead her to the bed. “Of course, Gracie.” I nod to Lorcan, who’s already shifting, kicking off his boots to make space. “Lor, your turn. Grace needs a nap.”

He gives a soft smile, scooting back and lifting the blanket. “Come here, lass. Let’s take a nap.”

The second she lays down, she curls into him, her body relaxing as if she’s finally found some sense of peace. Within moments, her breathing evens out, and she’s asleep, her soft sighs filling the quiet room. I linger for a moment, watching them, my heart aching with how much I love her. She looks so small like this, fragile in a way that makes me want to protect her from everything.

“Let’s get to it,” I murmur to Conrad, shaking off the emotions that threaten to bubble up.

We move to the closet and start painting, the rhythmic back-and-forth motion of the rollers soothing in its repetition. The dusty rose color spreads across the wall, soft and delicate, while Conrad works the deep blue onto his side.

“Can you believe it?” I ask, holding up three fingers, raising my eyebrows. My chest tightens with excitement and anxiety, the enormity of it all hitting me again.

Conrad shrugs casually, but there’s a knowing smile on his face. “I mean, triplets run in my family...” He says it so nonchalantly that my heart stutters.Shit. I’d forgotten about that little tidbit.

“Maybe there’s two or three daddies this time,” I joke lightly, trying to ease the tension building in my chest. “A man can hope, right?”

He laughs softly, shaking his head, but there’s a flicker of something serious in his eyes when he looks at me. “To be honest, I hope there’s three. It would make it easier on Gracie.”

I pause mid-stroke, the weight of his words sinking in. He’s right. “Four out of six kids would be here,” he continues, his gaze locked on the wall as he rolls the paint on in smooth strokes. “Meaning she might only have to try one or two more times, so everyone has a baby like she wants.”

My breath catches as I look at him. I hadn’t thought of it like that. There’s a softness in his expression, a genuine concern for her well-being that mirrors my own.

“Yeah…” I finally say, voice quiet. “I just want this to be as easy on her as possible.”

Conrad gives a small nod, his eyes thoughtful. “We all do, Barrett. Whatever it takes, we’ll make sure she has what she needs.”

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable. It’s the silence of understanding, of shared determination. As I roll the dusty rose onto the wall, I glance over at the bed where Grace is still sleeping peacefully in Lorcan’s arms. For her, I’d do anything. Paint a thousand walls, build a hundred rooms … Whatever it takes to make her dream a reality.

About an hour later,the paint is dry, and I notice Gracie stirring. Her lashes flutter, and a soft groan escapes her lips as she rolls over to face me, her hair tumbling across her cheek. “Is it ready?” Her voice is rough from sleep, raspy and endearing.

“All cured and ready to be matched up,” I reply softly, stepping closer and extending my hands to help her out of bed. She shifts, pressing a gentle kiss to Lorcan’s brow before sliding her palm into mine, her skin warm and soft against my calloused fingers.

With a gentle tug, I pull her to her feet and guide her toward the nursery, flicking on all the lights as we step inside. The soft glow floods the room, illuminating the walls that have been transformed over the past few hours. Instead of just painting the bottom foot, we finished all the walls. On the opposite wall, a rough sketch of the pond’s reflection sprawls across the surface, every detail painstakingly rendered—the shoreline, the gentle ripple of water, the shadows of our wolves standing together.

But the focal point—the one that took me hours to get just right—is Grace’s silhouette, standing several feet back from the water’s edge, looking into the pond, as if searching for the truth of our bond.

Grace inhales sharply, her eyes widening as she takes it all in. Her gaze sweeps over the wolves’ reflections, then back to the silhouette of herself. “You picked the pond. And all of us...” Her voice trembles, and then she’s leaping into my arms, her body colliding with mine, nearly knocking us both back a step. Sheclings to me, tears streaming down her cheeks, but there’s no sadness here—just pure, unfiltered joy.

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