23. Sadie
Sadie
F riday morning, six AM, and I’m standing in my bathroom staring at an empty suppressant bottle like it might magically refill itself.
The bottle that should have lasted another week is completely empty because I’ve been downing them like candy. Three a day instead of one—so much for rationing— trying to manage the chaos my body becomes every time I’m around Levi, Caleb, and Reid together.
But I can’t think about that now. Festival setup starts in two hours.
I splash cold water on my face, gasping as the simple touch makes my skin sing with sensitivity. There’s this low hum of arousal that’s been building for days, like background music I can’t turn off. My reflection shows flushed cheeks and bright eyes that betray exactly how affected I am.
One more day. Get through festival setup, prove I can handle this opportunity, then deal with whatever’s happening to my traitorous biology.
I throw on yesterday’s jeans and the first sweater I can find, then hurry downstairs to my shop.
The early morning delivery trucks have already been and gone, leaving my space looking like a botanical explosion.
Buckets of fresh flowers crowd every surface—roses, chrysanthemums, eucalyptus, and a dozen other varieties that usually soothe me but now seem to amplify every sensation until I’m dizzy with it.
My phone buzzes with volunteer confirmations. River and Dean handling main street decorations. Lila coordinating vendor booths despite being twenty weeks pregnant. Half the town showing up to transform Honeyridge Falls into something magazine-worthy.
The bell chimes and my three alphas walk through the door like they planned it. Which they probably did. They’ve developed this seamless coordination that would be sweet if it wasn’t so obviously about managing me.
“Morning, beautiful,” Reid says, carrying coffee and pastries. His bergamot scent hits me like a warm wave, and I grip the counter to stay upright.
“Volunteers arrive in two hours,” Caleb reports, consulting his clipboard with the same focused efficiency he brings to everything. His sandalwood warmth wraps around me from across the room, making my knees wobble.
“Extra ribbon, just in case,” Levi adds, holding up supplies. His cedar and rain scent completes the triangle, and suddenly I’m drowning in alpha pheromones that smell like home and safety and everything I want to wrap myself in.
Heat pools between my thighs. My nipples tighten against my bra. Every breath floods my system with their combined presence until I’m practically purring with contentment despite my racing heart.
“Thank you,” I manage, surprisingly steady. “Let’s get organized before the chaos starts.”
For the next hour, we work in perfect harmony.
They know my systems now, anticipate what I need, move around each other in my small space like they’ve been doing this for years.
But every casual touch sets me on fire. When Reid’s fingers brush mine passing supplies, I have to bite my lip to stop from gasping.
When Caleb reaches over me to secure something high, his chest nearly grazes my back and I go liquid.
When Levi steadies me on the stepladder, his hands at my waist feel like brands.
By eight o’clock, when volunteers start trickling in, I’m wound tighter than piano wire.
“Ready to make this town Instagram famous?” River grins, bursting through the door with his usual enthusiasm.
Dean follows more quietly, his attention immediately going to the work stations we’ve set up. “Where do you need us?”
“Lila’s coordinating vendor booth assignments from the festival grounds,” I explain, checking my lists. “You two are on main street garlands—every lamp post from the hardware store to the coffee shop.”
“Got it,” Dean nods, already reaching for supplies. “Lila said she’d meet us there in twenty minutes.”
As they head out with their arms full of greenery and ribbon, more volunteers arrive.
Mrs. Patterson from the post office. Tommy Clanton and his wife.
Three teenagers from the high school who need community service hours.
The energy builds as everyone gets their assignments and spreads out across town.
That’s when Lila appears in my doorway, moving more carefully now with her rounded belly obvious under her loose sweater. At twenty weeks, she’s absolutely glowing with that pregnancy radiance that makes my chest ache with want I don’t dare examine.
“Sadie!” She crosses to hug me, her scent warm and maternal with the distinctive sweetness of a pregnant omega. “This is so exciting. The whole town’s buzzing about today.”
“Just trying not to mess it up,” I laugh, though the sound comes out slightly strained.
“You won’t mess up. You’re amazing at this.” She surveys the organized chaos of my shop with approval. “What can I help with before I head to the festival grounds?”
We work together for the next few minutes, double-checking centerpiece assignments and making sure each vendor booth has everything they need. It’s comfortable, familiar work that usually calms my nerves.
Then it happens.
“Oh!” Lila gasps suddenly, hand flying to her belly. “Sadie, feel this!”
Without waiting for my response, she grabs my hand and presses it to the curve of her stomach. For a moment, nothing. Then—movement. Strong, unmistakable. The baby kicking against my palm like it’s saying hello.
The world tilts sideways.
Life. Movement. A tiny person growing safe and loved and protected. For one devastating moment, I can picture it perfectly—me with that same belly, surrounded by my pack, creating life with the men I love.
The longing slams into me like a freight train. So intense I actually stumble backward, gasping.
“Amazing, right?” Lila beams, oblivious to my internal meltdown. “This little one’s destined for soccer.”
But I can barely hear her over the roaring in my ears. My body responds to the baby contact with a surge of need so overwhelming it makes my vision blur. Every suppressed instinct explodes at once—the desperate craving for claiming, for pack, for babies of my own.
Across the room, I catch all three alphas freezing mid-task, heads turning toward me with laser focus. They can smell the change in my scent, the way my biology just shifted into overdrive.
“I need to...” I back toward the stairs, voice strangled. “Check something upstairs. Lila, can you make sure the vendor centerpieces get distributed? I’ll be right back.”
I flee before anyone can respond.
In my apartment, I lean against the door and try to breathe. My skin feels electrified, too sensitive for clothes, for air, for anything. The need building in my core has moved beyond uncomfortable to actually painful.
This is ridiculous. I’m a grown woman with a successful business, falling apart because I touched a pregnant belly and got overwhelmed.
But fighting feels impossible now. My body knows what it wants—pack, claiming, the safety to build the family I’ve been pretending not to crave. The suppressants that used to manage these feelings are completely useless against this intensity.
I strip quickly, skin too hypersensitive for fabric. Even the air feels like caresses. When I slide my hand between my legs, I’m already slick and aching, body practically begging for alpha attention.
I try to be quiet, try to handle this fast so I can get back downstairs and pretend normalcy. But the relief is so intense after hours of fighting arousal that soft moans escape despite my best efforts.
Part of me knows they can hear. In this old building, with their enhanced senses, there’s no hiding what I’m doing.
The thought should embarrass me, but instead it makes everything more desperate.
The knowledge that they’re downstairs, that they can smell my need, that they know I’m up here taking care of myself because I can’t handle being around them without falling apart.
When release finally hits, I cry out softly, the pleasure so sharp it’s almost painful. For a few blessed moments, I can think clearly again.
But getting dressed and preparing to go back down, I know this was just a bandage. Festival setup will continue through the afternoon. My suppressants are useless, my body’s betraying me at every turn, and tomorrow’s going to shatter me completely.
When I walk back into the shop, trying to act normal, all three alphas go completely still. They breathe deep, and I watch understanding dawn in their eyes—satisfaction mixed with lingering arousal, the unmistakable evidence of what just happened upstairs.
But instead of awkwardness, they somehow make everything easier. Reid handles the remaining volunteer questions, keeping people away from me. Caleb manages logistics so I only focus on flower placement. Levi stays close, a steady presence that grounds me when arousal threatens to spike again.
None mention what happened. None make me feel exposed or embarrassed. They just... take care of me. Like they’ve been waiting for permission to really help, and my vulnerability finally gave them that opening.
The rest of the morning flows smoothly despite my internal chaos.
By noon, volunteers have transformed our little town into something magical.
The main street garlands catch autumn light perfectly.
Vendor booths sport elegant centerpieces that add sophistication without overwhelming rustic charm.
The welcome arch looks like something from a high-end wedding magazine.
“Beautiful work,” Tessa beams during her inspection rounds. “The tourism board is going to be so impressed tomorrow.”
“Everything’s falling into place,” Reid agrees, but his attention is on me, not the decorations.
As afternoon settles over our decorated town, I stand in my shop surrounded by flowers and alpha scents, and accept the truth I’ve been fighting.
Tomorrow will break me completely. My suppressants are done, my heat is coming whether I want it or not, and these three incredible men have positioned themselves to catch me when I fall.
For the first time, that doesn’t terrify me.
It feels like coming home.