"Okay," she said, consulting her research with the gravity of a scientist about to cure cancer. "The internet says that omegas need different zones in their nests. Like, a sleeping zone, a comfort zone, and a... um..." she squinted at her notebook. "A 'sensory regulation zone'?"
I bit back a smile. "That sounds very official."
"I looked it up!" Charlie said proudly. "Because Dad said I should research before I give advice, and I want to make sure your nest is perfect."
Perfect. The word hit me harder than it should have. When was the last time anyone had cared enough about my comfort to research the best way to provide it?
Marcus certainly never had. His idea of nesting had been expensive sheets and a designer headboard. Beautiful to look at, but sterile. Cold. Nothing like the warm chaos Charlie was proposing.
"So where do we start?" I asked, settling cross-legged on the floor beside her.
"First, we figure out what makes you feel safe," Charlie said, her young face serious with concentration. "Do you like to be up high or down low? Open spaces or cozy corners? Soft things or firm things?"
Each question felt like a small revelation. I'd spent so long adapting to Marcus's preferences, to what looked right in his perfectly curated apartment, that I'd forgotten I was allowed to have my own.
"I think... cozy corners," I said slowly. "And soft things. Lots of soft things."
"Good!" Charlie made a note. "Dad likes corners too. Says it makes him feel like nothing can sneak up on him."
I looked up to find Jonah watching us from the kitchen doorway, his expression soft with something I couldn't quite name. When our eyes met, he offered a small smile that made my stomach flutter.
"Charlie's very thorough with her research," he said, moving closer. "Fair warning, she's been watching YouTube videos about omega comfort for the past week."
"YouTube has videos about that?" I asked, surprised.
"YouTube has videos about everything," Reed said, settling onto the couch behind us. "I once learned how to rewire a vintage motorcycle from a teenager in Oregon."
The casual domesticity of it, all of us gathered in Jonah's living room, planning my comfort like it was the most natural thing in the world, made my throat tight with emotion I wasn't ready to examine.
"Okay, Kit," Charlie continued, oblivious to my internal crisis. "What about scents? The research says omegas need familiar scents to feel really safe."
"I... don't really have any," I admitted. "I left most of my things behind when I moved."
Left most of my life behind when I ran, would have been more accurate, but Charlie didn't need those details.
"That's okay!" Charlie said cheerfully. "We can fix that. Dad's flannel shirts are really good for nesting. They smell like wood and coffee. And Micah gave me one of his aprons that smells like cinnamon. And Reed's got this old jacket that's super soft."
The matter-of-fact way she offered pieces of her father's and friends' clothing made my omega instincts perk up with interest. The idea of being surrounded by their scents, of building a nest that smelled like safety and care, was more appealing than I wanted to admit.
"Charlie," Jonah said gently. "You can't just volunteer other people's clothes."
"Why not? It's for Kit's nest. That's important."
"It is important," Jonah agreed. "But Kit gets to decide what she wants in her space."
The careful way he said it, like my autonomy was something precious to be protected, made my chest warm. Marcus had never asked what I wanted. He'd simply decided what was appropriate and expected me to be grateful.
"I would... I would like that," I said quietly. "If you're sure you don't mind."
Something shifted in the air between us, a charge of awareness that made my skin prickle. The idea of sleeping surrounded bytheir scents, of marking myself with their comfort, felt intimate in a way that had nothing to do with friendship and everything to do with the growing pull I felt toward all three of them.
"Of course we don't mind," Reed said, his voice rougher than usual. "Whatever makes you feel safe."
Charlie, blissfully unaware of the undercurrents swirling around her, had moved on to pillow arrangement theories. But I caught the way Micah's eyes had darkened slightly, the way Jonah's hands had clenched at his sides.
They felt it too. This thing building between us, this sense of rightness that I was trying so hard to resist.
"Can we start with just one blanket?" I asked, needing to break the tension before I did something stupid like ask them to scent me properly. "Maybe in the bonus room? Just to see how it feels?"