Page 37 of The Alpha: Part One
“He has no concept of how the world sees him. He just wants to make his whiskey and take care of his pack, he doesn’t care about the rest of it. He’d really like you. I hope he’ll get the opportunity to meet you.”
“Eight alphas is a lot for one omega.”
Seth is quiet again, but eventually he says, “it is.”
The rest of the ride home is quiet, and I basically jump out of the truck when Seth puts it in park. Actually, I do jump. I have to. It’s a big truck. But that doesn’t matter because I’m home.
I rush up the walk to unlock the door but Seth yells for me to stop. It takes every drop of patience to stop where I’m at, but instinct takes over as I register the thread of an alpha command in his tone.
“Sorry,” he says, a little sheepishly. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I know you’re happy to be home. Just let me go in first, okay?”
“Why?”
“It will make me feel better.”
Fine. I hand him the keys and follow behind him to the door. I don’t care, I just want to be inside as quickly as possible. The past few days have been absolute misery. I’m going to go straight to the bedroom, spread the bedding back on the bed, then roll it all up around me until I can breathe easy again.
He unlocks the door and tells me to stay behind him, then he cautiously steps inside. I follow close behind him. We go room by room, making sure everything is the way it’s supposed to be. Nothing smells or looks off. Nothing is out of place. Everything is exactly where it was a few days ago.
Finally, he puts the keys on the hook by the door. “Okay. I’ll go get your things from the truck.”
I’m already waiting in the bedroom when he comes back inside. He stands stiffly at the door, holding out the bedding with one hand.
“You can come in, you know.”
He shakes his head, but he does sneak a look around the room. “It’s okay. I’m going to go work on some emails for a while. If you need groceries or anything, just let me know when you’re ready to go.” Then he disappears down the hall.
I didn’t mean to make a nest, but I did. One minute, I was stretching the fitted sheet across the mattress, and then three hours later I’m cocooned in the center of a very cozy nest made up of bedding and laundry. And something else woven into the corner that definitely wasn’t in the bundle when I tied it up at Mateo’s. It’s a blue tee shirt. Seth’s blue tee shirt. The one he was wearing earlier. Oh my god. I stole the shirt off his back. I might die.
Dead or not, he’s not getting his shirt back. It can stay right there where I put it.
He’s sitting on the couch working on his laptop when I finally work up the nerve to leave the bedroom. He’s wearing a black tee shirt, and his bag is sitting beside him unzipped with other clothes piled on the cushion. He smiles at me when I come fully into the room and puts his work away. “Are you ready to go to the grocery store? You mentioned needing some things.”
“I’m sorry I stole your shirt.”
Seth blushes.Blushes.“Don’t be.”
Well, alright. If he’s not bothered, neither am I. “What do you like to eat? I’ll make a list and we can go.”
Seth doesn’t like peas or brown rice, which works out because Ben isn’t big on peas, either, and none of us like brown rice. He does have a weakness for pasta dishes and ice cream, though. That also works out pretty well because who doesn’t love pasta and ice cream? So, we load up the cabinets with too much pasta and zero peas, and we’re pretty happy with ourselves when we have banana splits for dinner.
I don’t have another shift until after the weekend. I asked for extra because I thought it might help take my mind off of Ben and Michael being in the mountains for so long, but my supervisor kindly and gently explained that she barely wanted me there for my regular shift. She said I would be distracted, emotional, and jumpy. I would have argued with her and fought for more hours, but she’s right. I feel a whole lot better knowing Seth is around, though.
I talk to my boys every night, usually on a video call. Tonight I’m making everyone’s life hard because I’m taking the call in the shower. Seth was watching some awful movie when I came into the bathroom, and with every minute of the phone call, the volume on the television has increased.
Ben and Michael are sitting in the cab of one of the trucks for the call. I can hear the muted sounds of whatever is happening there. Every few minutes I take a picture to send them while we talk. They’re miserable, but they love it. The last picture was of my foot resting on the side of the tub with soapy bubbles dripping down my calf, the new picture is of my soaking wet hair fanned out across my breasts, my nipples conveniently hidden by the dark tresses. They both let out curses when it comes through.
“So mean, Des,” Michael murmurs. “Sending us things like that when we can’t do anything about it.”
I giggle, and angle the phone over my shoulder to get a positively cruel shot of my arched back and raised ass. I’ll send that one next. “You don’t want any more pictures? I thought you missed seeing me,” I tease.
“We miss you, you know that,” Ben says. “We’re just sitting next to each other in the cab of a truck, parked on the side of the road with other guys walking past us every few minutes. I don’t want to get myself off sitting next to my brother any more than he does.”
“Liar,” I laugh, and hit send on the picture. “You do more than that next to him when we’re in bed together all the time. You could jerk off sitting across from Michael at the dinner table and neither of you would bat an eye.”
The moment the picture makes it through they both groan.
“You’re killing me, baby,” Michael growls. “That’s the first thing I want to see when I get home. I want you just like that in the shower the second I walk through the door.”
