Page 55 of Begrudgingly Yours
Jett snorts into his cup. “That guy is the life of the party. Respectfully,” he jokes.
That causes both of us to laugh. “Thatcher’s a good guy,” Everett says as he takes a sip of his drink. I finish making my own and join their circle, happy to finally be with my pack once again. Our drinks are so strong, you can smell the liquor in the air. I point down at it and look to Jett. “Please let us know if this bothers you,” I tell him seriously.
He waves me off. “I appreciate the sentiment, man, but it’s fine. Not drinking is a personal choice for me, I don’t expect anyone else to follow it.” He takes a sip from his own cup. “Besides, I have a cranberry mocktail. I think I’ll survive.”
He winks at me and I realize he has the right idea. It’s not the real thing, but it still helps satiate my alpha. That and cranberry scented candles. It should be embarrassing, but it feels freeing. Being able to give my alpha what it needs is honest self-care, and I don’t want to suppress him just because it might be seen as weird.
Not to mention the bombshell that Everett told us the other day. Jett’s scent match and Rory are the same person. There’s nothing to discuss with our different omegas because theyaren’tdifferent. They are one and the same, and it feels like a massive gift from the universe.
However, we’ve all come to terms that we’ll have to wait for Rory to come to us.Ifshe comes to us. Everett described how scared she looked, how hesitant. I don’t want to push her or make her feel obligated to be ours just because it looks like fate. It’s achoice. She’smychoice, always, but I only want to be hers if she makes that decision willingly. I can be patient if it means she wants us for us and not because the world is pushing her towards it.
But also, what are the fucking odds? How fucking weird can this universe be?
I turn the second a mix of familiar scents pour into the kitchen. Pack Pearson walks in, all dressed in various colors, and it takes me a second to realize that they’re the literal Scooby Doo gang. Atlas has on an orange ascot underneath his blue collar, Stacia is wearing a very 70’s inspired purple dress with go-go boots, and Kendall is wearing a green shirt and has a fake blunt between his lips. Then Ciro comes into view wearing an orange sweater vest and fake glasses. A cackle escapes my mouth before I can think better of it.
“Please, I need to see him,” I say, knowing that Uriah is hiding back there. The rest of the pack starts to smile, knowing what’s causing me this much amusement. Everett tries to hide his laughter, but Jett joins in with enthusiasm.
“Don’t make fun of him,” Stacia says with a pout. Kendall and Ciro are holding in their own laughter as they part, letting Uriah come forward. He’s in a onesie with the hoodie up,showing Scooby Doo’s face above him. He’s scowling as he goes to his omega’s side.
“How can I not make fun of him, it’s hilarious!”
“I’ll do whatever my omega wants, even if it means having to put up with your immature ass,” Uriah grumbles.
“Dax,” Everett warns as I continue to laugh, although his smile says he’s just as entertained.
“Hey, at least we’re wearing a matching costume. What the hell are you guys doing?” Stacia taunts.
I nod my head, letting my laughter die down. A tiny groan escapes as I look at our three differing costumes. Everett is dressed as a gladiator and Jett is in a pirate get-up.
“I wanted us to be the three musketeers but I was outvoted. Now I’m inthisinstead,” I say, pointing at the stupid whip.
Everett laughs. “He’s being dramatic. We couldn’t find a costume in all of our sizes so we had to compromise.”
I scoff. “We could have squeezed our cheeks into those costumes. Forfriendship.”
Ciro lets out a snort and Jett shakes his head. “There’s no amount of friendship that would have made that costume fit Everett.”
I throw my hands up. “I’m the only one with any imagination.”
That makes everyone chuckle. I offer drinks to everyone, and this time Atlas and Stacia stay sober instead of Uriah, so I give him an extra strong drink. He deserves it for dressing like a cartoon dog.
I smell her before I see her. A dramatic signal that causes my head to whip around. I can tell Jett and Everett smell it, too, because both of their scents spike just as deep cranberries metaphorically fall from the sky and land directly in our nostrils.
Rory strides around the corner, her skin shimmering fromhead to toe in a powdery blue. It’s a striking cerulean that compliments her hair, which is up in a high bun just like the night we met, the tendrils hanging down in an effortless illusion. Her long one-shoulder gown flows to the floor, black polyester swimming over her, billowing in a way that makes her look like she’s floating on air.
She used her hair to her advantage, because I see the vision immediately. It’s like she’s jumped right out of a mythology retelling.
Stacia squeals as her best friend finds them. Their happiness at seeing each other makes my heart full. I may not be able to give Rory the comfort she needs, but she has someone that does, and that makes my alpha rest easy in my chest.
All three of us stare at her, and we don’t even notice that it’s become quiet and awkward until Kendall coughs as discreetly as he can.
“Wow.” Jett clears his throat and takes a sip from his cup. “You look incredible.”
Her scent spikes the slightest amount, just enough to be noticeable, as she pushes one of those tendrils behind her ear. “I wanted to be Hades,” she says, swaying her dress. “Seemed fitting. And you’re a pirate, I see.”
Jett puts on a smirk, one that I’ve never really seen on him before. It screams confidence, and I realize right then and there that he’s gone into the right profession. “Yeah. I reckon I look a bit like William Turner. What do you think?”
Rory shrugs, but it feels anything but casual. Her eyes travel down to where his flowy shirt billows and exposes his chest. When she catches herself staring, she looks away, a blush reaching her cheeks.
