18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
I blink awake, the world still hazy around me. The weight of tears lingers on my cheeks, evidence of a sleepless night spent wrestling with my thoughts. A soft knock cuts through the fog, pulling me back from the depths sleep. I can’t make out who it is, and for a moment, the prospect of company stirs anxiety in the pit of my stomach.
I murmur, “Come in,” my voice barely breaking the silence of the room. The door creaks open, and the shape of Lucas fills the frame. He steps inside, a gentle smile dancing at the corners of his lips. He stops, taking a moment to look at me, and though he says nothing, I can see the worry etched into the lines of his brow. My eyes must betray the remnants of my tears—red and puffy, as if I’d been sparring with emotions too heavy for the morning.
“Hey,” he finally says, his tone low, careful not to disrupt the fragile air between us. “I was just checking in. Would you like to join us for dinner? It’s all set up in the kitchen. Or I can bring you something here if you want more time.”
I take a deep breath, the idea of being alone with my thoughts gnawing at my insides. But then there’s another feeling—a flicker of warmth at the thought of their company, the comfort of voices mingling in the air, and perhaps the chance to distract myself from this cloud hovering over my heart. A small smile emerges, hesitant but sincere.
“I’ll eat with you,” I say softly, a choice made more out of need than desire.
Lucas nods, a slight relief in his posture. He steps back, motioning for me to follow. “Alright then, let’s get you some food.”
As we walk through the corridor, I can feel the weight of the day pushing against my chest, but his presence allows a sliver of light to cut through the heaviness. I wonder, as we make our way to the kitchen, if this is the balm I’ve needed—a moment to stitch together the tattered edges of my heart, if only for a while.
The kitchen greets me with the smell of food, making my stomach growl with hunger. I hesitate at the threshold, acutely aware of the dampness still on my cheeks, a dissonance between my internal storm and the laughter spilling from the table. I take a deep breath before stepping into the kitchen, Lucan beside me not saying anything as if he knew I needed a minute to compose myself.
The room comes alive as I enter, a swirl of movement and sound. Conversation quiets momentarily, replaced by the flutter of my heart in my chest. Faces turn toward me, a gathering of familiar warmth and kindness that cuts through the weight of my emotions.
“Hey, look who finally decided to join!” Dakota says with a teasing grin, his tone lighter than I am used to hearing.
I force a smile, but I can feel the redness blooming on my cheeks—probably a mixture of the lingering effects of my tears and the embarrassment of being on display. As I move closer to the table, I notice the spread of food laid out, a colorful display that clashes violently with the heaviness of my mood.
"Come, sit," Gabriel gestures to an empty chair next to him, his eyes meeting mine with an understanding that makes me wonder if he can sense my emotional state. I slide into the seat, grateful for the normalcy of the moment despite everything.
Theo sets a plate in front of me, already filled with what looks like some kind of pasta dish with roasted vegetables. "You need to eat," he says quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Especially after today."
"Thank you," I murmur, the simple kindness nearly bringing fresh tears to my eyes. I take a bite, surprised by how good it tastes—rich and savory with hints of herbs I can't quite identify. My hunger awakens fully with that first bite, and I realize I haven't eaten since our lunch at the café.
"Good, right?" Lucas says, noticing my expression. "Theo is the one with the culinary skills in this house.”
Theo adjusts his glasses, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Someone had to learn to cook properly. Otherwise, we'd all be living on takeout and protein shakes."
I take another bite, letting the flavors distract me from the emotional turmoil still churning inside. The normalcy of this dinner scene—four Alphas and me, eating pasta and talking about cooking skills—feels surreal against the backdrop of what's happened in the last twenty-four hours.
"How are you holding up?" Gabriel asks quietly, his voice pitched low enough that only I can hear him over Dakota and Lucas's banter about some case they worked on last year.
I hesitate, fork suspended midway to my mouth. The automatic "I'm fine" hovers on my lips, but something in Gabriel's expression stops me from saying it. Maybe it's the genuine concern in his eyes, or maybe I'm just too tired to maintain the facade.
"Honestly? Not great," I admit, keeping my voice equally low. "It's... a lot to process."
Gabriel nods, no judgment in his expression. "That's understandable. You've been through more in the past few days than most people experience in years."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I ask, a hint of wry humor breaking through my melancholy.
"No," he replies with surprising candor. "Just acknowledging reality."
I take another bite, grateful for his straightforward response. There's no empty platitude, no Alpha assurance that everything will be fine. Just recognition of the situation for what it is—difficult, frightening, overwhelming.
"The food is really good," I say, changing the subject. "I didn't expect..."
"What? That Alphas could cook?" Theo asks, apparently having over heard my comment. There's a teasing glint behind his glasses.
"That you'd have time for proper meals," I clarify, offering a small smile. "With everything going on, I half-expected microwave dinners."
"We make time for real food," Theo says, passing a basket of garlic bread my way. "It's one of our non-negotiables. Pack dinners, whenever possible."
"Pack dinners," I repeat, the concept foreign yet oddly appealing. My meals have been solitary affairs for so long—quick bites between customers at the shop, takeout eaten at my kitchen counter while scrolling through social media.
"It's important," Gabriel says, his voice carrying a weight that suggests deeper meaning. "Sharing meals, checking in with each other. Especially in our line of work."
Dakota snorts, reaching for his water glass. "What he means is,
, if we don't force family dinner, we'd all disappear into our work and forget to eat or sleep," Dakota clarifies with a wry smile. "Especially Gabriel and Theo."
"I'm not that bad," Theo protests mildly, adjusting his glasses.
"You once worked for thirty-six hours straight and only realized when you fell asleep face-first in your keyboard," Lucas points out, grinning. "We found you with the letter 'J' imprinted on your forehead."
I can't help the small laugh that escapes me, the image too vivid to resist. The sound seems to please them, their expressions softening as they exchange glances.
I catch Dakota watching me, something like satisfaction in his expression before he turns back to his pasta. For a moment, the weight of my situation lifts slightly, replaced by the simple pleasure of shared food and genuine conversation. It feels... normal. Safe, even.
"What about you?" Lucas asks, his attention turning to me. "Any embarrassing work stories? Flower arrangements gone wrong?"
I take a sip of water, considering the question. "Well, there was the time I accidentally used poison ivy in a wedding bouquet." At their alarmed expressions, I can't help but smile. "The bride had specifically requested 'woodland elements,' and it was dark when I was gathering materials. Let's just say the honeymoon photos were... interesting."
Dakota lets out a bark of laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Please tell me you didn't get sued."
"Surprisingly, no," I reply, warming to the story as their interested expressions encourage me. "The groom was a botanist. He identified it immediately and made sure no one else touched it. They actually found it hilarious—said it added 'memorable drama' to their wedding."
"Lucky," Theo comments, a small smile playing at his lips.
"Very," I agree, taking another bite of pasta. "Though I did send them a complimentary anniversary arrangement the following year. Extra large, definitely poison-ivy free."
The conversation flows easily after that, the Alphas sharing stories from their work—the ones they can tell, at least—while I contribute anecdotes from the flower shop. The heaviness in my chest begins to lift, not completely, but enough that I can breathe more easily.
"Tomorrow," Gabriel says, his voice drawing my attention to him, "we'll get the sunroom set up for your flower arrangements. Theo's already ordered supplies based on what he saw at your shop, but you should make a list of anything specific you might need."
"I don't want to impose more than I already have," I begin, but Theo interrupts me.
"It's not an imposition," he says firmly. "We want to help you maintain your business."
"Besides," Lucas adds, twirling pasta around his fork, "it'll be interesting to have something other than case files and gun cleaning happening around here.”
I nodded at this, a small smile on my lips as as I thought of what I could need. I did wonder if I could requests something not for my work. I didn’t get to bring any supplies to nest, and with how I am feeling that would make me settle a little more easier. I shift as I bite my lip, Dakota noticed right away his eyes zoning in on me.
"What's wrong?" Dakota asks bluntly, his dark eyes assessing me with surprising perception.
I set my fork down, suddenly self-conscious under his direct gaze. "Nothing. Just... thinking."
"About?" Gabriel prompts gently, his attention now fully on me as well.
I hesitate, weighing my options. These Alphas have been nothing but accommodating—offering me protection, a place to stay, even setting up a workspace for my business. But asking for nesting materials feels too personal, too vulnerable. It's admitting a need that's deeply tied to my Omega nature, something I've always been careful to downplay.
"It's silly," I mutter, pushing a piece of pasta around my plate.
"Try us," Lucas encourages, his tone lacking its usual teasing edge. "We've heard plenty of silly requests."
I take a deep breath. "I...” I stopped myself not knowing how to really word it.
"Just ask," Gabriel encourages, his blue eyes steady on mine. "Whatever you need."
I take a deep breath. "I could use some... nesting materials." The words come out in a rush, heat rising to my cheeks. It's an intensely personal request—Omegas typically only discuss nesting with those closest to them. "With everything that's happened, I think it would help me feel more... settled."
The four Alphas exchange glances, but there's no judgment in their expressions, just understanding.
"Of course," Gabriel says without hesitation. "What kind of materials do you prefer?"
His straightforward response catches me off guard. Most Alphas I've known
would have reacted differently—with amusement, condescension, or uncomfortable avoidance of the topic. But Gabriel's response is matter-of-fact, as if I'd asked for extra pillows or a different breakfast cereal.
"I, um..." I stumble, still surprised by their acceptance. "Soft things, mostly. Blankets, pillows. Maybe some... scarves or sweaters?" I don't mention that ideally, those items would carry scents that make me feel safe—a detail that feels too intimate to share.
"Theo can take you shopping tomorrow," Gabriel suggests, glancing at Theo who nods in agreement. "There's a specialty store in the city that carries high-quality materials."
"Or," Dakota interjects, surprising me with his contribution, "we have plenty of extra blankets and pillows here that you're welcome to use. Plain cotton, wool, some fleece. Nothing scented."
I blink at him, touched by the offer. "That would be perfect, actually. Thank you."
Dakota nods, his usual gruffness softening slightly. "No problem. I can bring them to your room after dinner."
"I have some extra throw pillows too," Lucas adds, surprising me further. "Memory foam. They're good for building a solid nest foundation."
I stare at them, momentarily speechless. Their casual acceptance of my Omega needs, without mockery or discomfort, is so unexpected that I'm not quite sure how to respond.
"Thank you," I manage finally, my voice quieter than intended. "All of you. This is... not what I expected."
"What did you expect?" Theo asks, adjusting his glasses with curious eyes.
I shrug, uncomfortable with admitting my preconceptions. "I don't know. Awkwardness? Most Alphas I've known don't really... understand nesting needs."
"We're not most Alphas," Gabriel says simply, as if that explains everything. And maybe it does.
Lucas grins, leaning back in his chair. "Besides, we've all had to learn about Omega physiology and psychology for our work. Can't be effective investigators if we don't understand half the population."
"Though some of us paid more attention in those classes than others," Theo adds dryly, shooting a pointed look at Dakota.
Dakota rolls his eyes. "I passed, didn't I?"
"Barely," Lucas teases, dodging the napkin Dakota throws at him.
I watch their easy banter, a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the food. There's something about their dynamic—the way they tease and support each other without posturing or dominance displays—that puts me at ease in a way I didn't expect.
I take another bite of food, feeling more comfortable in this home than I thought. I glanced around the table and feel a little more settled with this arrangement than before.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be around these Alphas.