Chapter 38
Rose
The nest is finally ready. The workers finished it while we were out getting the stuff to decorate.
It looks like a little holiday cottage pulled straight from a snow globe.
The siding gleams a fresh, clean white, and the shutters are painted the deep red of Santa’s suit.
Tiny wreaths hang on each window, their ribbons fluttering gently in the cold breeze.
A small Christmas tree twinkles on the covered porch, its lights casting warm golden patterns across the snow.
The air smells faintly of pine and fresh paint, and for the first time in days, something inside me settles.
It feels like home in this new life I’m creating with this pack.
A Christmas themed nest would have been absurd to me just a few weeks ago.
But with Evanders list in place I decided to fully embrace it this year. Including in the new nest.
The Nest Store decorators have placed everything for me.
Lots of omega's and packs think it's cheating to have someone besides the omega do it, but I wouldn't even know where to begin.
More than that, I don't want to if I don't have to.
The guys offered to wait until my heat to view the nest, but that doesn't feel right either. I want this to be for all of us.
Now we’re all standing outside the new auxiliary nest, snow crunching softly beneath our boots.
I hold the key in one hand and Harlan’s steady warmth in the other.
Wyatt stands close on my other side, his body radiating heat against the chill, while the rest of the pack gathers just behind us.
I take a slow, bracing breath of winter air—the kind that smells like pine and woodsmoke, and turn the key.
The door creaks open, and I’m greeted by everything my quietly repressed omega heart could ever want.
It’s a true nest. Both traditional and intimate.
The windows are shuttered from the inside, keeping the world out, and the light inside glows soft and golden.
Twinkle lights are strung along the walls, wrapping the space in a gentle halo.
There’s a recessed area for the nest itself, layered with plush cushions, fleece throw blankets, and pillows so soft they look like fresh snowdrifts.
A little black potbelly stove sits in the corner, crackling faintly, filling the air with the scent of cedar and warmth. The whole place feels like stepping inside a Christmas card—cozy, quiet, safe. My chest tightens with love.
Evander comes up behind me, sliding his arms around my middle, just beneath my breasts. His scent—mulled wine and something sweet, wraps around me like a blanket.
“Happy, Candy?” he murmurs against my ear.
And I am. More than I’ve ever been.