Page 91 of Into the Fire: After
Butterflies frolicked in my stomach as we hurried to empty the elevator into the truck, then the rest of the apartment after that.
Because our omega was getting her very first nest today. And she had no idea.
Caine
AmethystCommonswasofficiallysold.
We’d loved that apartment. The building, the complex—it had been a passion project for all of us. The home Lin and Brooks and I built as our sanctuary from our various demanding realities.
Managing the building, working with the tenants had been my first foray back into the world after hiding from it for so long. On the whole, people were still assholes and I’d just as soon have nothing to do with the majority of them. But I no longer felt like I couldn’t handle them, and that was in no small part because of Lin, and because of Amethyst.
Ghosts haunted the building, though. And as much love as we Arceneauxs had poured into it, it wasn't really all of ours. To quote our omega, we needed a home forPack Arcenox.
So Lin had found a buyer, and we’d house hunted.
Now we drove five people’s entire lives across town toward the older, historic midtown area and the renovated Tudor cottagethat would bear witness to our dreams and our woes. Our steps forward and back. Laughter and tears and sighs and moans.
Hopefully forever, because I was with Brooks one hundred percent—I fucking hated moving.
He and Lin drove the moving truck, while Brea, Taryn, and I rode in the car. The omega bounced in the backseat with excitement as we approached.
She may actually pass out with glee when she sees the nest.
Our new home was—there was no way around it—the quaintest, most adorable fucking thing I’d ever seen. Aged red brick rose up to the iconic plaster and half-timber woodwork. I usually hated the dark woodwork of Tudors, but these beams were a vibrant red color that matched the brick, brightening the entire facade. A round-top front door and a sprawling ivy-covered oak tree completed the storybook home.
The moment Taryn had seen it, she’d wanted it.
Luckily, the inside suited our needs too. Nice open living space with plenty of room for all five of us, functional kitchen with a mid-sized island for congregating. A primary suite with enough space for a double king bed, and a bathroom with separate tub and shower. Three guest bedrooms, two of which—considering how seldom we had actual guests—would serve as home offices for Lin and Brea. The third would be an actual guest room slash library slashI’d like some personal spaceretreat.
Because more than a few of us were known to want a little space from time to time.
But thepiece de resistancewas the attic space. AKA, Taryn’s nest. When we’d toured the house and purchased it, the space was unfinished. Bare studs and insulation and, we were fairly certain, a furry squatter. Taryn knew the plan was to finish it and outfit it as her nest, but she thought that would be happeningafterher imminent heat.
She had no clue the rest of us had already finished the space and outfitted it based on her own sketches and specifications.
Was it wrong to lie? Maybe.
Did I regret it? Not for a moment. Because I had zero doubt that our omega was about to absolutely lose her goddamnedmind,and I couldn’t fucking wait.
Taryn
Unloadingthetruckwasa division of labor.
Alphas: Carry boxes.
Beta: Carry boxes.
Omega: Nest the everliving shit out of our cozy new home.
The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, with my preheat in full swing and, therefore, nesting mode in high gear. Normal chaos-brained Taryn would’ve spent weeks and weeks unpacking (assuming her incredible pack hadn’t gotten it done in the meantime, which they totally would have, resulting in a very frustrated and guilty-feeling omega).
Today, though, I had boxes emptied and items stored faster than my pack could carry them in.
Dishes: Cabineted.
Utensils: Drawered.
Pots and pans: Stowed.
