Page 24 of Pack Me Up
Tommy squeezes my hand, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Me too, Britt. Me too.”
Colton finally says, “If he gives you trouble, let us know.”
Tommy gives him a salute. “Will do, boss.”
I lean back against the cushions.
Tommy stretches and sighs. “I should go. I’m crashing with Oli tonight, but I wanted to see you first.” He stands, and I rise to hug him, letting his skinny arms wrap around me like a shield.
“You’re coming to rehearsal tomorrow,” I say. “No excuses.”
He grins. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Colton walks him to the door, and for a second, they’re face to face, the alpha and the omega.
Tommy leaves until I’m alone with the twins.
Cody sits beside me, this time close enough to feel the warmth of his body. “He’s a lot,” he says.
“He’s the best,” I reply.
Colton sits on the armrest, gaze softer now. “You want us to go, or stay?”
I think about it. About being alone, about being watched. About how, for once, the only thing I want is company that doesn’t ask for anything.
“Stay,” I say, and the word comes easier than I expect.
Colton kicks off his shoes and pulls his legs up, casual as anything. Cody leans his head back, closes his eyes, and lets out a long, slow breath.
For a while, we just exist, and no one talks. We watch the horror movie, half-distracted, but it doesn’t matter who’s killing whom on the screen. The real story is here, in the hush between three people who are still learning about each other.
Fox
PHOENIX PACK SECURITY BRIEF #112
ALL PHOENIX PACK RESOURCES ARE TO BE DEVOTED TO BRITTNEY RYAN
April 21st
Saint’s footsteps are the worst. They’re never off-beat, and never casual. He paces the length of the living room, five precise strides and back, every turn perfectly executed in the light leaking through our high windows. Hunter watches from the armchair, sprawled with deliberate laziness, boots up on the ottoman, his hands tapping a rhythm against the battered leather. I sit on the far end of the couch, a glass of water sweating into my palm, trying not to leave rings on the side table. I am not an alpha, but I am good at reading the room, and this one reeks of stress.
Saint stops at the window, arms crossed, and glares at the city like he’s daring it to start something. “We need a plan,” he says, the words sharp.
Hunter snorts. “She already likes us, boss. You’re the one who’s overthinking it.”
“She deserves to be courted properly. Don’t just assume that since she likes us, she’s automatically ours. Plus, she likes Colton and Cody,” I say, before I can stop myself. “They’re the ones she actually hung out with this past week of us watching her.”
Hunter’s smile is sharp. “Maybe you should spend time with her, Fox. You act like being a beta means you have to come in last.”
Saint ignores us both. “We play it smart and we impress her. None of you fuck this up.”
There’s a tension here, strung tight and electric, but it’s not new. The house is full of this friction from forced proximity. The five of us have been circling each other for years, each pretending to be comfortable in our assigned roles. Saint as the sledgehammer, the twins as a unit, Hunter as the distraction, me as the guy who patches things up when the others aren’t looking. It’s fine. It’s always been fine.
Except now there’s Brittney, and for the first time since I grew up, I’m not sure what my job is supposed to be.
I swirl the water in my glass, watching the tiny cyclone spin itself out. “She’s not something you can achieve with plans and precision,” I say.
Saint turns from the window, eyes sharp as broken ice. “You’re saying we should stay away?”
