Page 85 of How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates

“No—I sound like someone who actually sees her for what she is. She knowsexactlyhow to play you both. Big doe eyes and fucking glitter casseroles while she turns you against me, one stupid protein-soaked pasta dish at a time.”

“She’snot turning us against you,” I growl. “You’re doing that all by yourself.”

“You’re fucking blind.”

“And you’re not part of this pack if you keep treating her like this.”

The silence stretches long enough that even Jace shifts beside me. Wes looks between us both as if he doesn’t recognize what’s happening—as though he can’t quite believe the ground is shifting under his feet and he’s powerless to stop it—and then, without a word, he turns and walks out.

I wince as the front door slams to a close a few moments later.

Jace lets out a long sigh as he mutters something about going to check on her; meanwhile, I stay rooted in the kitchen, fists clenched so tight I can feel my nails in my palms.

The pasta still shimmers pink on top of the stove, but all I can think about is the look on her face when she left…

And the look on my brother’s, too.

Fuck.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jace

Idon’t follow Wes. Not because I don’t want to lay him out for what he just said—because I do—but because Aimee walked out of the room looking like someone had yanked the ground from under her, and she needs me.

Cam stays frozen in the kitchen, fists clenched, jaw tight. I get that it’s harder for him. Pack is pack, so of course I feel a little torn, but they’rebrother’s, so he’s bound to feel even more stuck in the middle.

I’ll deal with Wes later. For now, I head upstairs.

The door to Aimee’s room is mostly closed, but the soft click of the handle feels louder than it should. I step in quietly. She’s not crying, exactly, but she’s curled up on her side on the bed, one arm tucked under her head, the other gripping the edge of the blanket.

She looks small and tired; as if whatever spark she walked in with has dulled at the edges.

“Hey,” I say softly, closing the door behind me. “Mind if I come in?”

She doesn’t look up, but she nods. I toe off my shoes and walk over, easing myself down behind her. She shifts just enough to let me in, and I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her back against my chest and breathing in the faint twinge of her scent.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur into her hair.

She doesn’t say anything for a long, drawn out moment. Then, finally: “He hates me.”

“No,” I tell her automatically. “He’s jealous. And a dick.”

“He’s just soangry,” she says as she lets out a tired, not-quite-laugh. “I thought we could get past this. I really did.”

“Wecanget past it,” I say firmly, because I need her to believe it. “Wewill.Cam’s on your side. I’m on your side. And Wes… Look, things are kind of raw for him right now. It’s a lot. He just needs time, and then he’ll come around.”

She twists just slightly to look up at me. “You think so?”

“Iknowso.”

She sighs deeply, then hesitates. “I didn’t think it would be such a big deal,” she says, her tone full of innocence. “I was just trying to get myself comfortable in a new place. I didn’t think anyone would really care about where I put the eggs, or the color of the pasta water. It was just supposed to be fun.”

“Itisfun,” I insist, squeezing her a little tighter. “Look; when it was just the three of us, the house worked. But it was boring. Beige. Too quiet. But then you’ve come along, and suddenly there’s color,everywhere.A lot of pink. Which isn’t a bad thing! We’ve even got towels that match now, and the spice rack has…vibes, apparently.”

She lets out a small huff.

“And yeah, it’s maybe been alittleextreme at times,” I add gently. I feel her tense immediately, so I continue quickly. “But! You’re an omega. I’ve never lived with one before, so I don’t know what’s normal and what’s not. Maybe pink protein pastaisa love language.”

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