Page 16 of Scrum Heat

I lunge forward and just about manage to land silently without waking him. I take a moment to steady my breathing, then shuffle down the rest hallway, taking in the house properly now that I’m upright and catastrophe-free.

It’s… A mess. A charming, mismatched, testosterone-saturated mess.

I pass what I come to realize is Theo’s door, which is open—obviously. It smells like cologne and bad decisions, and there’s a suspicious pair of boxers hanging from the door handle.

I pretend I don’t see them.

Directly across the hall, Finn’s room is glowing with a soft lamp and the energy of someone who writes affirmations on his mirror in dry-erase marker. It’s neat and tidy and organized, and perfect for him.

I head down the stairs as quietly as I can, straight into the living room that looks very much like an ad forWhat Happens When You Let Four Alphas Furnish Without Supervision.There’s two leather couches, a worn armchair, weights under the coffee table, and rugby balls in places rugby balls should never be.

The kitchen’s straight ahead; blessedly empty and mostly clean. It smells like burnt toast and protein powder, but hey—small wins. I step inside and glance out of the huge window that overlooks the backyard, noting that despite the early hour, Jax is there, doing pull-ups.

On atree.

I raid the cupboards for something to eat—somethingnotmade of protein powder or chicken—when something catches my attention. My shoulders stiffen, and my eyes narrow.

And sitting on the counter like a glittering beacon of emotional violation is my mug. Not just any mug, either: mycomfort mug. My emotional support chalice. It’s pink and ceramic, withNot Today, Satanwritten across it in gold sparkles.

“What. The.FUCK?!”

I know it before I even reach it: my precious mug has been scented.

No: it's beenalpha-bombed.

“Frankie!” Finn skids into the kitchen moments later, all wide-eyed and parted lips. “Are you okay?! What happened?!”

“No, I’m not okay!” I hold the mug aloft. “Someonescented my drinkware, Finn!”

He gasps, and looks genuinely heartbroken.

“It wasn’t me, Iswear! I only scented the dish towels!”

“THE DISH TOWELS?!”

“Jax said it would help you feel secure!”

“Jax hasn’t said more thanfifteen wordsto me!”

Right on cue, the back door creaks open, and Jax steps inside, shirtless, sweaty, and holding… a chair.

A whole-ass, hand-carved wooden chair.

He doesn’t speak. Just sets it down by the kitchen table and gestures toward it like it’s a sacrifice to the omega gods.

I blink at it. Then at him.

Then at the chair again.

“…Did you just…make that?”

“It’s ergonomic,” he nods, then disappears into the living room without another word.

The chair remains.

I squint my eyes, looking at it a little closer. It’s notjusta chair: there’s actual,realdetail there - it has little carved wolves on the legs, and one of them is…smiling? Another is howling at a crescent moon that is very clearly a rugby ball.

“See?” Finn beams at it. “We’re all trying so hard!”

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