Page 102 of Home to the Hollow

I squint up at him. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Since the morning after our little all nighter,” he winks, tugging my hand. “We’ve had plans in the works for a couple of weeks now. We’re going to add all the amenities we need to function—you’re gonna love it.”

“Who in the hell is paying for all of this and where are we going to live while this goes on?” I ask, following him as he pulls me around the side of the house.

Teddy snorts. “Uh, gambling kingpin of the state. You remember that, right?”

“I’m not a charity case, Edgar Olivier Boone III!”

“Of course you’re not, Sugarplum.” Wolfie jogs up, clad in similar loungewear to Teddy, his face all smiles. “We’re paying for what we want to add. That’s only fair.”

Damnit. He’s got me there, even if it is only semantics. “I don’t know. It sounds like a lot, and how are we going to live here with people banging around?”

“My crew only works when we’re not here or when scheduled, Tilly. They’re the same company that helped build your annoying bestie’s house down yonder.” Edgar smirks at the last part because he knows I marveled every day at how fast they erected that place and how amazing it looked when they finished.

“Fuck,” I mutter. I’m running out of protests fast, and I don’t know if I’m fighting him out of pride, stubbornness, or brattiness now.

“Soon enough, sugarplum. Come see what Prez and I are doing,” Wolfie grins, taking my other hand to pull me away from Teddy.

I don’t miss the look that passes between them for a second, and my lips curve. He stops, tilting his head, and Edgar chuckles, following our excited lover as he heads for a space filled with planks and rolls of wire. Prez is standing over it, holding a large blueprint. McSteamy scratches his head, turning the diagram once before studying the space again.

“What’s going on here?” I ask, looking at the piles of materials curiously.

“Prez is gonna build his aviary back here,” Wolfie says, his eyes lighting up. “And even better, we get to havechickens!”

“What.”

“Yep. Chickens. It’s gonna be great for cooking, and I can’t wait. I mean, fresh eggs all the time…” Wolfie stops when I don’t respond and pouts. “Sugarplum, you don’t look happy.”

Shit. Now I’ve harshed his cheerful buzz. I can do that to anyone but him, and Teddy crosses his arms over his chest, giving me a judgmental glare. “I mean, it sounds cool, baby, but we have a house full of predators. Snakes, cats, and eagles EAT chickens.”

Prez comes over and waves the rolled up design at me. “They do, but the plans for the aviary and the hutch are very sophisticated. I promise, I’ve never once lost a bird to predators at my place. We won't be losing any here, either.”

My expression is uncertain, and I let go of Wolfie to place my hands on his chest. “I believe you, but if you let me name an animal that another one of my animals eats, I’m going to be very upset. I… I don’t deal well with loss.”

His smile is gentle as he pushes a hair off my face. “You may think that’s a big secret, magpie, but it’s not. We’re more intuitive than you realize. We would do nothing to hurt you. You can trust us.”

Wolfie leans in between us with an excited grin and whispers, “Did she just call me baby?”

Oh, fuck me.

These idiots and their laundry list of pet names, and I’ve barely done more than call them silly names in my head. Of course, I’m a hopeless twit who’s withheld that kind of affection. Raising my hand, I pinch the bridge of my nose when I realize the last person I had a real nickname for was Trevor, and he didnotturn out to be my white knight. I haven’t named anyone since; it’s some sort of trauma reaction.

If these guys knew what a goddamned mess I am inside, they’d run for the hills, not build us a fucking nest.

“Sugarplum? What’s wrong? You look upset suddenly,” Wolfie says, pulling back from Prez and I.

“No, no. I’m not.” I look at each of them, smiling at the trio of matching outfits and worried expressions. “I’m not upset at all. I’m a little overwhelmed at what you’ve got planned, and maybe apprehensive because…”

“Because what, drugar?” Teddy asks as he moves to wrap his arms around me from behind.

Confession time. Great. “Apprehensive because I’ve never lived with anyone besides my parents as a kid and Seer when we toured the world. I don’t know what it’s like to have… roommates.”

“Pssh, magpie. That doesn’t matter. We’re not roommates,” Prez scoffs.

“You’re not?”

“No, sugarplum. We’re not roommates—we’re yours,” Wolfie whispers in my ear.

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