Chapter 10 Iris #2
"What if she doesn't? Iris, we were so good. She... her lock...” he starts sputtering and I have to hold back a laugh because god, he’s fucking adorable. “And then this!” I twist a little to see him waving his hands in the air and realize my shortcomings shouldn’t be taken out on them.
I close my eyes, leaning back in my chair. This whole relationship can only work on honesty and keeping what Chad said from them won’t save anything. "I can hear you." I raise my voice so they can both hear me from the couch. "Both of you."
They look up, Milo’s face turning red as Quentin’s jaw tightens even further.
"For the record," I say, focusing on the both of them, "my hearing works fine. As does my ability to determine what I need without two people debating it like I'm not a few feet away."
Milo's scent goes sharp with guilt but Quentin’s composure holds. I can see the crack at the edge of it, though, the slight tightening around his eyes.
"Come sit down." I close the laptop. "Both of you."
Milo takes the chair to my left, pulling his legs up beneath him and Quentin takes the one across from me, his hands flat on the table.
Neither one reaches for the bagels, both waiting for me to explain my change in emotion.
I should tell them about Chad. I should lay it out plainly, explain the threat and let them help me figure out a plan.
But the words stick in my throat because telling them about Chad means telling them about the part underneath it. The part that has nothing to do with a jilted Alpha making threats and everything to do with the man whose number is sitting in my missed calls from last night.
"My father texted me last night," I say. "Twice. I didn't respond." I turn the coffee cup between my hands. "He asked if I was okay. He said I've been different lately. Happier. He wants to know why."
Milo's hand moves toward mine on the table, stops halfway, and then pulls back. He's learning. It costs him something, I can see it in the way his fingers curl into his palm, but he's learning.
"It's been me and him since I was twelve.
" I clear my throat, trying to steady my voice.
"Since my mom died, it's just been the two of us.
He moved us across the country for this coaching job.
He built his entire life around the team and around me, and I'm the only person he has.
" I swallow. "If I tell him about this, about us, it changes everything.
He's not just my father, he's your coach.
He can't unknow it. He won’t be able to separate the two. "
Quentin leans forward, his forearms on the table. "What do you need?" The question surprises me because I was expecting either or both of them to pry. “Whatever it is, I think we can manage.”
"I need to not think for an hour," I say, my voice a little softer because in moments like this, I usually retreat to my nest, the one I’m not supposed to have.
"I don't need to be fixed and I don't need to be challenged.
I just need to sit somewhere soft and not have a single thought in my head. Can you do that?"
"Yeah." Milo's voice is rough. "We can do that."
He stands and tentatively offers his hand, waiting for my choice.
I appreciate it, letting him guide me back to the bedroom.
The sheets are rumpled from earlier but there’s new ones in place of those that he must have thrown in the wash.
The gesture is comforting as I climb in first, pulling the top blanket around my shoulders, settling against the pillows with my eyes closed.
The tangle of our three scents is still in this room, calming the edge of my nerves.
Milo takes my left side and Quentin takes my right, pressing against my arm.
Neither of them speaks. Having both of them here, I let myself relax, the tension in my shoulders releasing bit by bit, my body sinking deeper into the blankets.
My hand finds Milo's beneath the covers and his fingers lace through mine without asking as Quentin places his hand on my stomach, his fingers splaying out.
When I finally speak, my voice sounds different to my own ears.
Softer. Like something has loosened that I've been keeping knotted.
"My mother used to nest before she died.
" My eyes are still closed, my head tipped back against the pillows.
"She had a nest in the master bedroom. This huge, elaborate thing with about fifteen blankets and these specific pillows she ordered from a catalog.
My dad used to tease her about it, said she was building a fort every night.
" A ghost of a smile crosses my face. "When I was scared or sad or just having a bad day, I'd climb in and she'd pull the blankets over both of us and everything would just stop.
The noise, the pressure, all of it. It just stopped. "
My thumb traces a slow circle against Milo's palm.
"I started building mine the year I came to Knotlocke.
I didn't plan it. I just bought a blanket that reminded me of hers, and then another one, and then the fairy lights, and before I knew it I had a nest in my bedroom that I couldn't tell anyone about.
" My breath comes out a little unsteady.
"Alphas don't nest. That's what everyone says.
It's an Omega thing, a biological thing, and I'm supposed to be protecting nests, not building them.
" I pause. "But it's the closest I get to feeling her.
To feeling like she's still here, somewhere, holding the edges of the world together so I don't have to. "
Quentin hums as he presses a kiss to my shoulder and then to my cheek. “What happened earlier? Milo said everything was fine.”
I huff out a laugh. “It was perfect and then Chad called from Kevin’s phone. He knows something is going on and threatened to go to my dad. I’m just not ready. I’m trying to be but I...”
Milo scoots closer, fitting himself against the side of my body. “You can be ready whenever you are ready, Iris. We’ll still be here. We’re going to be like a barnacle on your ass. A fly to your shit. A—”
Quentin raises up a little and throws a punch into Milo’s arm. “Shut the fuck up. You’re ruining the moment.”
I burst out laughing, burying my head in Quentin’s neck as Milo curls in closer against my back.