27. Emmeline
27
Emmeline
“ W
hy do you always think it’s you?” Oscar asks, pulling us from the silence.
I startle in my seat, my eyes darting around to try and figure out who my alpha is talking to. His eyes aren’t on me, like I’d expect, or on Uri. Instead, they’re directed towards Paxton.
Paxton.
“What?” the head alpha asks, narrowing his brown eyes at Oscar.
The dynamic seems off, especially since Paxton’s sitting on the chair, and Oscar’s on the floor. There’s a good foot or two between them, and it feels strange.
Or maybe I’m just an anxious girl.
“You’re acting like Uri’s self-hatred is your fault.”
“I don’t hate myself,” Uri protests.
Oscar rolls his eyes. “Yes, you do. You’re walking around with a storm over your head, acting as if you’re a danger.”
“Because I am,” Uri says almost gently as he slowly emphasises each word. “You’ve seen what happens when I lose control—the things I’m capable of, the people I’ve hurt.”
“Yes, well, we’ve all shared our feelings on that. It’s clear we’re not going to be able to reason with you,” Oscar says, waving his hand dismissively.
I gasp, and Uri shoots me an amused half-grin. Clearly, he’s not surprised by what Oscar’s saying. Neither am I, if I’m being honest. It is still rude, though.
“The problem right now is you and your feelings,” Oscar says, gesturing to Paxton once more. “You can’t sustain yourself this way.”
Paxton sighs, and Sterling shakes his head.
“Attacking him isn’t going to fix the problem, Oscar,” Sterling says, and Oscar’s head snaps up to look at him.
“It wasn’t meant to be an attack.”
“Well, it feels like one,” Paxton offers. “What are you meaning, then?”
“I’m just saying, you can’t carry all of us and then hate yourself for not doing it perfectly,” Oscar says, shrugging.
“Fuck me dead,” Sterling whispers, and I look up at the beta in shock. His eyes are wide as he stares at Oscar. “That’s one of the most insightful things I’ve ever heard you say.”
Oscar scoffs, but his lips quirk up. “Yeah, yeah.”
“He’s not wrong,” Uri adds almost teasingly. He looks over at Paxton. “But, seriously, Oscar’s right. You can’t take the burden of our pack and combine it with your desire for perfection. It’s killing you.”
“I’m the head alpha. If I don’t hold it together, then we fall apart.”
“We fell apart anyway,” Oscar says.
The thing about Oscar’s bland tone here is that he truly doesn’t mean for his statement to be as offensive and hurtful as it is. It wasn’t to be a dig or to make Paxton feel worse.
“That was my point,” I say softly when all four of them fall silent once more. It’s like they have no idea how to move past this or where to go next. “You’re all… struggling but desperate to hide it.”
“There’s no room for failure in our lives,” Paxton offers.
I nod my head, twiddling my fingers together under my blanket.
Well, I suppose technically it’s theirs…
“That’s how I feel, too. That you can’t stop moving, you can’t slow down. You can’t let the feelings in or you’ve failed, and everything is going to blow apart,” I murmur. My eyes prick with tears, my voice growing huskier as I talk. “I’m already failing as an omega, but if I can ignore that and focus on work , then there’s still a chance to be good enough.”
Paxton’s low growl is muffled underneath the deep, angry one from Uri. His deep brown eyes are wide, his nostrils flaring, as the sweet honey and sharp black pepper fills the air.
I can’t help my whine, but I wish I wasn’t being so dramatic. This moment is not mine. It’s not for me to take for myself or make about me.
“You are not?—”
“No, don’t,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry for being so sensitive. I don’t mean to make this about me, honest.”
My eyes are stinging, my throat burning, as I swallow back a sob. I’m so exhausted, mentally, physically, completely. I hate that, once again, I’m making this about me .
But this is what I meant earlier. How can I fix them when I can barely look after myself?
“You’re nothing like her, Emmeline,” Oscar says, and my entire body freezes. Is that what he thinks I’m worried about? “Nothing. She’s a bitch and deserves to rot in jail before hell claims her soul for all eternity.”
I know that. I truly do.
“Touch dramatic there, Os,” Uri teases, but there’s no real amusement in his words. It falls flat against the weight of our combined despair.
I rest my head against Sterling’s tricep, sniffling, as I try to stop myself from crying.
“You’re not a burden, little storm,” Sterling whispers. His voice carries through the silent room. “You’re precious.”
“You’ve made some very valid points tonight, Emme,” Paxton adds. “We want to be enough for you. We want to support you, to help you, and to be enough for our child. But, to do that, I think we all have to learn how to be enough for ourselves, too.”
“Fucking hell, Pax,” Uri groans, shaking his head. “That one hurt.”
“Didn’t it,” I say before giggling. I’m practically hysterical now, my body no longer acting logically. The exhaustion is taking hold, and, honestly, I just want to go nest now.
I’m tired. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally.
“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but, honestly, I think we need a professional to sort out this mess,” Sterling says.
“Why can’t you believe you’re saying this?” Oscar asks, a deep frown on his face. “You’re always one of the first to propose therapy.”
Sterling’s eyes dart to me, and I instinctively know why he’s nervous.
“Therapy doesn’t make you weak,” I say gently. “Especially not when you’re going to be facing your past.”
Sterling squeezes me gently. “You’re right. I just… faltered.”
“I’ll go,” Uri says firmly. “I’ll reach out to my parents and see if they can give us some recommendations.”
“That’s a good idea,” Paxton says with a nod.
“I don’t need therapy,” Oscar interjects, and my eyes widen. “Not to try and flaunt my healthy state of mind, but?—”
Healthy state of mind?
I don’t know Oscar as well as the rest of them do, but even just being with him today at the hospital has proven how much he’s struggling. I don’t fully understand it, but there’s a lot of medical anxiety there for my alpha, and it seems quite traumatic.
Then again, if opting out of therapy is something we can do, maybe I could just… beg off it, too. I don’t think I’m ready to face my fears.
I feel a phantom kick in my stomach, and I sigh softly. It doesn’t matter if I feel ready, does it?
My baby deserves the best mum they can get, and I owe them this much.
And maybe… maybe I owe it to myself, too.
“Healthy state of mind?” Uri asks, shaking his head. “Os, you could really?—”
“Therapy doesn’t work unless the patient wants to be there,” Oscar says. “I’ve got better things to waste my time on than sharing feelings with a random person.”
I glance at the alpha on the floor, noting how he’s not looking at any of us. There’s no tension in his body, not visibly anyway, and he just seems content in his decision.
“Nobody will push you into something you’re not ready for,” Paxton says softly. “And nobody will judge you for making the decision you feel is right for you either.”
“I’ve been in therapy before, and you all know that I rate it,” Sterling says, glancing at me before looking over at Paxton. “I’m really proud that you’ve decided to go.”
I glance up at Paxton, who never said he was going to go to therapy, but, based on the grin on his face, I think he is. Is this really the right step? All of us doing therapy?
Surely, it’s not going to just fix everything?
“Thanks,” Paxton says, winking at Uri. “He’s clearly not proud of you.”
“Don’t be a shit stirrer,” Uri says, laughing. “I’ve been before, too. I just don’t think it was the most beneficial.”
“This is the first time you’ve actually wanted to go for you. That will make a difference,” Oscar offers, and Uri smiles. “Choosing to go is a very different thing to being forced.”
“That’s true,” Uri says.
My chest burns, and I rush to speak before someone else does.
“I don’t… I don’t want you all to feel like you have to go because of me.” Shame fills my chest, and I wrap the blanket around me tighter.
“We’re choosing to go because it’s time that we move past the toxic shit that’s ruined our life,” Paxton says gently. “It’s time to grow, to heal, to move on. We want a future with you, little treasure, and, to do that, we need to work through the baggage.”
“Seconded,” Sterling says.
“I’ve got a little bit more baggage than just her, but I think it’s time I learn how to deal with it all.” Uri rubs the back of his neck, an almost shy grin on his face as I look over at him. “Imagine if our baby is an alpha, and I cause him?—”
“Or her,” I interject at the same time as Oscar.
“Or her,” Uri says before shuddering. “Fuck, I never thought our child could be a her . I’m not going there tonight. Just imagine if our baby is an alpha, and I spend the next however long of their life scaring them and holding them back.
“If I put so much fear in their heads, then I’m the problem. I can’t… I won’t pass on my fears. I won’t subject them to live a life created by my mistakes.”
“Your parents would be proud,” Paxton says, and his scent grows stronger as he radiates his own pride.
“They will be when I tell them,” Uri admits. Looking at me, he adds, “My parents are both psychologists. My mum specialises in helping teenagers through any unexpected transitions, and my dad specifically works with omegas.”
“Wow, that’s got to be a… job.”
“A job?” Sterling asks, laughing. He’s not the only one.
I blush. “I was going to say rewarding, or hard, or… I don’t know. It sounds difficult, and emotional, and fucking terrifying.”
Oscar laughs. “I’d rather be unemployed than have that job.”
Paxton rolls his eyes. “You’d rather be unemployed than have most jobs.”
“It’s all of the above,” Uri says with a nod. “But it puts them in a good position to give us some recommendations for us, if we want them.”
“We do,” Paxton says.
“You’ve all shared so much tonight,” I say before biting my lip. I don’t really know how to finish what I was going to say. I don’t know how to explain that I feel inadequate.
That I’m not doing much of the same.
I find it a little terrifying how quickly they’ve all just got on board. Sure, Uri’s had a few freak outs, but he’s agreed to start therapy and to start working through his trauma.
Oscar might not want to attend therapy, but he’s committed to me and our child. He’s determined to support us and seems to have elected himself as the doctor of the pack—without the degree, the bedside manner, or the ability to prescribe medication.
Paxton never once faltered in his commitment to me. From the moment our bond kicked in, he was there, ready, willing, open. I know he’s struggling with his own feelings of inadequacy, but he’s determined to push past them and to be here.
Sterling, well, my beta is a complicated man, but he’s one who has now made his position clear. He wants to be with me. He wants to be in my life, as my mate, and he’s determined to trust in me rather than to let his untrusting inner voice have a place.
They’re all confident that they’re going to be able to make this work, and, strangely enough, they’re not expecting me to be the person that fixes them. They’re taking accountability, and they’re willing to show up.
And yet, here I sit, still doubting myself. Still uncertain of my own worth. Still unsure how I’m meant to do this.
If they’re all willing to heal, what excuse do I have to stay broken?
“I think today has been a very good day,” Paxton says, and his scent seems to soften as he leans in closer. “We’re finally on the same page.”
I can feel the heat from Oscar’s touch, and, combined with Sterling’s steady heart beat, my purring makes sense. I’m comfortable. Happy.
Secure.
“We’re a pack, but we’ve spent far too long living like we’re separate pieces,” Paxton says quietly. “From this point on, we choose each other.”
“Well, yeah, but, also, we choose to be whole ,” Uri says.
Oscar shakes his head. “I’ve always chosen to be whole. I’m not just half an Oscar.”
I giggle, and Oscar’s grip tightens on my ankle. This simple touch is the one thing connecting us together, and it’s so powerful, so perfect .
“You’ve got half a brain,” Sterling says, and I twat his chest. My beta laughs. “We can sit here and make all the sappy proclamations that you want or we can just move past this and know we’re going to be healthier people as each day goes on.”
“Not physically. You’re not taking my cake away,” Uri says, and the bark in his words has me erupting into a giggle fit.
“I think we’d lose half our workforce in the first month if we cut off your break time cake parties,” Paxton mutters, and I bury my head into Sterling.
He holds the back of my head, his large hands massaging my scalp so nicely. My laughter settles as they continue teasing and joking, and it feels so nice .
It’s the safest I’ve ever felt, that’s for sure.
“ I
feel so warm,” I mumble through a yawn.
Sterling’s cradling me to his chest, my back firmly planted against him, and my head rests against his shoulder. He’s so warm, so comfortable, so lovely.
My legs are in Paxton’s lap, my alpha desperate for the connection. His hand brushes up and down my calf, ever so gently, and Oscar still holds tightly onto my ankle. Uri’s half-asleep opposite me, but his foot is touching mine.
Even with how heavy the conversation has been, I’m so content having all of us here. After all the days of sickness and anxiety, of dehydration and lack of sleep, I’m finally at ease.
The baby within is happy knowing that their pack is here.
And, honestly, it’s a little embarrassing how that’s all it took for me to settle, too.
“That’s what pack is meant to feel like,” Oscar offers, sounding just as sleepy as I do.
“Let’s go to bed,” Paxton says, reaching forward to brush the hair out of my eyes. “Do you want to go to your nest tonight, little treasure, or a bed?”
“That’s a really stupid question,” Oscar says. “She wants her nest. The real question is if she wants us in it with her or not.”
My heart races, and I can feel the quickening of my mind as it perks up in understanding. Do I want them in my nest?
Yes, obviously.
Am I going to admit that out loud?
Not even if I was on my deathbed.
“Don’t talk about Emme as if she’s not present,” Uri warns, and I look over at my gentle alpha. He gives me a tentative smile. “We won’t be offended no matter what.”
“I…”
“Feel nervous,” Sterling says. I glance up at him and nod. “We’re going to come into your nest with you. I think you and the baby need us close. At least tonight.”
“Okay.”
I squeeze his hand, relieved that he took the decision out of my hands. I’m even more relieved that he made the decision I wanted in the first place.
Paxton rubs my thigh, his touch soft and grounding. “Let’s get everything locked up for the night. I want to go get showered, but then I’ll come and join you all in the nest.”
“Me, too,” Sterling says. “I’m wiped, but I feel grimy.”
“You don’t have to come in,” I offer, a little breathless. The knot in my stomach forms quickly and tightly. Here I am, sitting on Sterling’s lap, knowing he made the decision for us, but my anxiety can’t trust that he actually wants to be in my nest.
Fuck, I really do need therapy, don’t I?
“I want to,” Sterling says, kissing my temple. “But I won’t taint your nest with the dirty scents from the restaurant.” He winks at me. “It’ll make Oscar cry.”
“You’re not wrong,” the sleepy alpha mumbles, still pressed against me.
“What about me?” I ask, delicately sniffing to see if anything smells off.
Oscar groans, lifting his head up. His icy grey eyes meet mine. “You’ve perfumed a few times, and you’re covered in our scent. You’re beautiful.”
My blush is immediate.
“Come on, time for bed,” Paxton commands, his voice deepening.
Sterling sits forward, moving me with his body.
“We don’t need to rush,” I say, and, this time, I’m not just a little breathless—I’m practically gasping. I don’t even know why I said it when I so desperately want them there.
But I’m nervous. Scared I’ll mess things up somehow and undo the progress we’ve made.
“We want to,” Paxton replies. He lifts me from Sterling’s lap, gently steadying me on the floor. Rising from the sofa in one fluid moment, he’s suddenly towering over me.
The quickening of my heart is for an entirely different reason this time. Damn, he’s hot.
He leans forward and brushes his lips against mine. He’s so soft, so gentle, and I whimper, desperate for more.
“Let us take care of you for tonight, little treasure.”
Sterling stretches and stands. Between the two men, I feel trapped. Although, it’s not a bad feeling.
“You four go ahead. I’ll lock up, then come join you.”
My chest tightens as I nod, and Paxton gives my hand one last squeeze before he disappears. Uri’s watching me with a soft, unreadable expression in his gaze.
“You okay?” I ask, although I already know the answer.
“He’s okay,” Oscar decides. “But I’m not. Let’s go to bed and cuddle.”
And cuddle?
Fuck, I never considered cuddling was going to be part of the deal.
“Breathe. Calm.” Uri’s words are more than a command—they’re an alpha bark, forcing me into submission.
I could voice my frustration, but, honestly, I’m just grateful he’s easing the mental burden on me tonight.
“Nobody will do anything you don’t want, and that includes snuggling,” Uri says, taking my hand in his.
The two of us follow after Oscar, the blonde-haired alpha clearly serious about wanting to go to bed.
“I tend to be a leech, so if you don’t like it, just wake me up, and I’ll move,” Oscar promises without even turning to look at me.
I tighten my grip on Uri’s hand. “It’ll be fine.”
Fine is not the word I want to use. Perfect doesn’t feel strong enough.
We come to a sudden stop outside the door to my nest, and I know that the tension thrumming in the air doesn’t belong to Oscar or I. No, this time, it rests firmly with Uri.
“Are you okay?” I murmur, repeating my question from only a few moments ago.
“Are you sure?” Uri asks, and I tighten my grip on his hand, refusing to let go.
Oscar’s the only other one here—Sterling and Paxton both showering and getting ready to come and join us—but I won’t rush this moment, even knowing how badly Oscar wants to go to sleep.
“I’m sure.” I stay by his side, waiting to let him make the decision to enter. The nest I made yesterday under Paxton’s careful gaze stands tall, and it’s so inviting.
I’m desperate to be inside, to have us all there, to finally, finally feel what it’s like to have my entire pack there with me.
But I can’t force this moment. Uri is already struggling, and he’s laid his soul bare tonight, so I won’t add pressure.
I’ll stand here with him for as long as he needs.
“Any day now would be good,” Oscar says, tapping his feet. “I’d like to see our nest.”
“Let’s go inside, then,” Uri says. Within the blink of an eye, he crouches down, lifts me into his arms, and strides through the open doorway.
There’s no hesitation in his steps as he advances towards the nest, and when Oscar draws back the curtains—well, the soft white fabric that I used as a curtain—Uri doesn’t pause in dropping down to his knees to gently place me inside.
My heart rate speeds up, and my tummy flutters, but I can’t deny how excited I am for this moment. Uri waits, and I direct him towards where I want him to lie down.
He’s on my direct left because part of me knows that he’s the most anxious right now. The one who needs me, and the one I need.
Oscar crawls into my nest next and doesn’t hesitate in dragging himself to lie between my legs. I rest my head on the pillow, my heart racing, but nobody speaks.
Sterling joins us next, and, without prompting, he comes to lie on my right side. He pulls the blankets down and curls up next to me, his breathing calm and steady. He asks Uri about his parents, and I stay quiet, just listening to them speak.
Every so often, Oscar pipes up, but they all seem calm and at ease.
They’re here because they want to be. Not because they have to be.
But I can’t settle until Paxton gets here. I need him. I really, really need him. The calm ease from downstairs is gone, and I know that it won’t return until he’s here.
It’s frustrating. My mind won’t quiet, and my eyes won’t close.
“Your heartbeat’s gotten faster,” Sterling murmurs, brushing his knuckles over my arm. “He’s coming, little storm. He won’t make you wait much longer.”
I nod, but I still can’t quite breathe right.
“His showers are only thirteen minutes on average,” Oscar adds. His voice showing that he’s far sleepier than I am.
“I’m sure he’ll be showering faster tonight,” Uri teases, and Sterling chuckles along with him.
I personally don’t find anything humorous about this.
The door creaks open, a slither of light invading the darkness.
Every instinct inside me stills.
Then, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla fills the room.
Paxton.
He’s here.
I whine, and it’s only the heavy arms of Uri and Sterling that hold me in place. I don’t know whether it’s adrenaline or some other hormone, that has my nerves dancing, and there’s, like, a tether tugging me towards my alpha.
He steps in slowly, his hair damp, and his scent so beautifully fresh. He’s shirtless but wearing a pair of dark shorts—red, maybe, but it’s hard to tell in the shadows of the night.
“Is there room for me?” Paxton asks, and relief fills me.
“Come take my spot,” Sterling says, scooting over. “I think Emme needs you more, right now.”
“I need you both,” I whisper, my voice shaky, but I don’t regret the truth.
“We know you do, little storm,” Sterling says softly, but that’s all he says.
Paxton edges forward, carefully minding that he doesn’t disturb Oscar, before he slides in between Sterling and I. Blankets are tugged around him, and I can feel his body heat.
It’s almost as if I’m absorbing it just for my own desire.
I don’t speak. I don’t need to.
Paxton’s hand finds mine, and finally— finally —I relax.
My pack is here, and everything is right in the world.
Sure, tonight has been hard—well, damn, the last few weeks have been hard. It’s become very apparent that none of us are whole yet. Not even close. But we’re not pretending that we are either.
Having a pack was never about something fixing them or having them fix me.
It’s about finding a place where we can support each other as we all learn to heal.
And now, I think we have that.