Chapter 27: : Chapter 26

“

here is she?” I growl, clutching my ribs as I shove myself out of my chair at the kitchen table.

“Sleeping.” Arden rolls his eyes and buttons his cuff before moving to do the other. “She barely slept. She was up and down all night, going to the bathroom.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know, considering she told me I wasn’t invited to sleep with her,” I grumble, heading to the oven to check the biscuits. She enjoyed Arden’s at the diner, so I asked my mom for a recipe and followed it to a T.

Well, for the sausage gravy.

I’m not talented enough to make biscuits from scratch, but I did spring for the extra butter name brand variety when I panic shopped at seven a.m. as the grocery store opened.

The biscuits are puffy and golden brown, so I tug them out of the oven, setting the pan on the stovetop, even though the timer says there’s a minute left. I move to check the gravy, which has been resting on low heat, and it smells delicious.

“Quit your complaining. At least she’s still here,” Arden says from behind me. “I think it would be best if we leave Chelsea with free roam of the house today while we all head to the office.”

“Fuck, no,” I hiss, dropping the lid and turning to face him.

“Yeah, that goes double for me.” Linc jogs into the kitchen from the back stairs. “I’ve got a shit ton of groveling to do.”

“Did you talk to my mom?” I ask, because she recommended the same thing.

Not that I told her the specifics, but she recommended a freshly cooked breakfast, flowers, and a card.

If that doesn’t work, she told me to call her back this afternoon, and we would go from there.

She’s about thirty minutes outside of Blacksburg and desperate to come meet Chelsea, but she understood when I told her I thought it would be best to wait a few days.

“No.” Linc scoffs. “But I did wake up no less than seven times last night, and every single time, I picked up Chelsea’s misery in the bond. Most of it was physical discomfort. She’s good at hiding it, apparently.”

“While I understand your need to smooth things over as quickly as possible,” Arden says to Linc, “I would caution you against pushing too hard. She and I had an enlightening talk last night.”

I frown as he describes her attempted escape.

Dammit.

I, too, had a feeling she was going to run.

“But she stuck around.” Arden gives a pointed look. “There’s also the fact that Easton texted this morning, demanding a meeting to share all we know regarding the Manzos. I’m not sure what sparked his interest, but he was not fucking around.”

“I learned my lesson last night. I’ll keep my mouth shut from here on out, unless it’s to apologize,” Linc grinds out, massaging his lower back. “I think I need a new bed. My fucking back and neck are killing me this morning.”

“I’m not going,” I deadpan when Arden looks at me. “You two can go in and do whatever it is that Easton needs done. I’m going to see if I can find some of the smaller baby stuff and start assembling it. I won’t be in her way, but I will be around if she needs anything.”

Easton’s main tech guy is way more skilled than I am. If he needs something handled, he can ask Calder.

I don’t give a fuck if it puts me on East’s shit list.

I’m not scared of him.

It’s a little unsettling that the man just does not give a fuck about what laws he breaks, but he’s far too calculating to do such without a carefully laid-out plan.

I’d imagine you’d have to have balls of steel to employ the kinds of ruthless assholes he does. Literally, Shadow Security is a mess of the other contract workers the sane companies turned down.

I frown, realizing I’m one of those psychos who failed the mental health screening for a few different places.

Whatever, that’s neither here nor there.

I’m not fucking going into the office today, and that’s the end of it. I will stab the first one of my packmates who tries to make me.

Chelsea comes down an hour after Arden forces Lincoln out of the house. Sky circles her feet, and I push off the counter to let the furry beast out into the backyard. I leave the porch door cracked, so she can let herself back in and make my way to check on my omega.

Yeah, I decided that last night too. She’s mine. She doesn’t get to take my virginity and then be all oh, sorry, I didn’t know you guys were killers.

That’s not how this works.

“Good morning,” she says as I come back into the kitchen.

Chelsea is dressed for the day in a pretty black dress. It looks soft. I’d like to be able to run my hands over it as I give her a good morning kiss, but I keep my chill.

Instead, I head over, pulling open the oven.

“Good morning. Biscuits are in here, and the gravy is on the stove.” I try to smile, but it comes out feeling more like a grimace. “I set you out a plate on the island. I’ll be in the garage if you need anything, but otherwise, I’ll see you at lunch.”

Chelsea’s eyes widen. “Oh, okay.”

She slides her hands down her dress, nodding.

I’m not sure what I did wrong this time, and I frown. “Okay. Great.”

Turning to head to the garage, I freeze when she calls my name. I turn back just in time for her to wrap her arms around me.

“Thank you. It smells great.” She runs her hand down my back, and I exhale in pure relief.

“Anytime.”

Baby stuff takes a while to assemble, and I didn’t even attempt the crib on my own. I manage the swing, the bouncer seat that oscillates, the playard, and the bedside bassinet, but that takes until just past lunch.

I’m anxious to see what went down with Easton, but I haven’t heard from Arden or Linc, so I figure they’ll fill me in when they get home.

If it was important, they’d call.

Lunch consists of turkey and cranberry sandwiches with a side of mashed potatoes, but Chelsea doesn’t come down, even with the scent of the gravy heavy in the air.

Cutting off the burners, I rub my hands together.

Arden said not to bother her…but lunch doesn’t count, right?

I also would love to casually walk her through the living room, where I stored all the assembled baby stuff.

Do we still need to quietly court her when she and Linc bonded? Can’t we just loudly accept that she’s going to be ours?

Goddammit.

Times like these are when I wish I better understood human emotions.

Sometimes, I even struggle to determine which emotion I’m feeling.

It’s frustrating.

It isn’t possible to dissolve bonds, but they can be chemically eased. You’re still going to be tied to that person for the entirety of your or their life. I don’t see her going to one of those places to have that done.

Wiping my hands off on my jeans, I head up the back stairs to go searching for Chelsea. I’m sure Arden means well, but he’s not the end-all be-all for knowing how Chelsea will react. And, also, I just want to check on her.

Chelsea looks a little like an angry drowned rat when she makes her way out of the bathroom to find me sitting on the edge of the bed in the primary suite. Her bare shoulders slump as she tries—and fails—to pull her towel closed to cover her stomach.

“My back hurts. I thought the hot water would help, but it didn’t,” she mutters, stepping over and separating the clothes she left on the bed.

It’s not the dress she was in earlier, either.

Those are my sweats and Lincoln’s shirt. I’m not sure when she snagged those, but if she keeps it up, I’ll need to buy more clothing for her to continually steal.

Not that I mind.

I could do with some more clothes. I tend to buy repeats of my favorite things, so I have the same T-shirt or pair of sweats in every color they offer and backups somewhere in my closet.

It’s just one of those quirks of my personality. I always like to have an extra set of everything, just in case something happens to the first. Companies like to stop carrying my favorite products, and it has led me to more than one meltdown.

“I can rub your back for you after we have some lunch,” I offer, stretching out on the bed.

Chelsea’s gaze migrates to study my chest and torso as I lean back on my forearms.

I’ve got a growing addiction to the hungry look on her face.

See, things aren’t hopeless.

We’ve just got to be patient and play our cards right.

“I don’t even know if I should eat,” she says, dropping the towel and grabbing the T-shirt.

Holy fuck.

It looks like her skin is stretched to its literal capacity. I’m baffled how women carry multiples, but I guess it’s a miracle of the female body.

She sighs, shakes out the shirt, and pulls it on before moving to get herself into my sweats. She keeps them tucked under her stomach and glances at me.

I hate that she looks so uncomfortable, and my mind races through ways to help her feel better. “I have a surprise for you downstairs. How about we check that out, then I’ll rub your back while you try to have at least a little lunch?”

Her head tilts, and it feels like an eternity passes as I wait for her to nod her agreement.