24. Hailey
Chapter 24
Hailey
T he blanket beneath my fingers is impossibly soft. I can’t stop running my hands over it, marveling at how different it feels from the threadbare sheets at the Academy. Everything in Finn’s nest seems designed for comfort—plush pillows, fleece throws, even what looks like hand-knitted quilts arranged in careful layers around us.
It’s like lying on a cloud infused with the most calming scents in the universe.
I should feel trapped, sitting cross-legged in an unfamiliar omega’s nest while three alphas prowl somewhere below. Should be terrified. But there’s something about Finn that makes the world seem focused on just this one room.
He’s arranging pillows now, movements delicate as he creates what looks like a proper sleeping area along one wall. My gaze shifts to my hands. His are so much bigger than mine, but he handles each item with such care, such gentleness. Like they’re precious things that might break if he’s too rough.
“You’ll want the purple one,” he says suddenly, making me jump. When I look up, he’s watching me with those strange gray eyes. “For sleeping. It’s the softest. ”
I realize I’m still stroking the blanket in my lap. Heat floods my cheeks and I snatch my hand back. “Oh! I…I wasn’t…I mean, I don’t need…”
“Yes, you do.” His voice is firm but kind. Like everything else about him. “You’re staying here, so you need proper bedding.”
“But this is your nest ,” I whisper. “I can’t…”
“Our nest…” He must see the utter shock that makes my face go slack and his eyes widen a fraction—probably because of what he just said. “For now, at least.” He says it so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to share his sanctuary with a stranger. “At least until you decide what you want to do next.”
The lump in my throat makes it hard to speak. I watch him tuck another pillow into place, trying to understand how he can move with such grace. He’s slender, lacking the muscular bulk of an alpha, but even kneeling, he towers over me, his lean frame making me feel small in comparison.
There’s something…delicate about Finn. Something in the way he holds himself. There’s something else, too. Something I didn’t notice yesterday. The way he moves like he’s aware of every part of his frame.
Just like I do of mine.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I whisper, more to myself than him. “I’m intruding.”
He pauses in his arranging to look at me, head tilted slightly. “Do you feel unsafe here?”
“No!” The force of my answer surprises us both. I duck my head, studying my hands. “No, I…I feel…I don’t know how I feel.”
“That’s okay, too.” There’s a smile in his voice that makes my chest constrict. “You don’t have to know everything right now.”
When I dare to glance up, he’s focused on his task again, carefully arranging what looks like a reading nook in one corner, based on the books he’s balancing on a shelf set in the wall there. The morning light streaming through the window catches in his hair, turning the honey-gold strands into a soft halo of warmth around his face. He’s beautiful . The thought hits me so suddenly it steals my breath. I’ve never seen an omega like him—all lean and masculine wrapped around something inherently soft. Gentle.
I realize I’m staring again when he quirks an eyebrow at me. “See something interesting?”
“You’re beautiful.” The words slip out before I can stop them. Horror floods through me immediately after. We don’t say things like that. Omegas don’t…we’re not supposed to…
But Finn just blinks at me, genuine surprise crossing his features. “I…what?”
“I’m sorry!” I scramble to fix my mistake, heart pounding. “I shouldn’t have said it out loud. I…”
“Hey, no, it’s okay.” He sits back on his heels, studying me with an expression I can’t read. “I’m just not used to…I mean, I’m not exactly…” He gestures vaguely at himself, like he can’t quite believe I meant it.
“But you are,” I insist with a whisper, unable to stop now that I’ve started. “I’ve never seen anyone like you.”
A blush creeps up his neck, staining his cheeks pink. It’s oddly endearing on him. “Oh,” he says faintly. Then again, “Oh,” like he’s just realizing I actually mean it.
He ducks his head, suddenly very interested in arranging the pillows again. But I catch the pleased smile tugging at his lips, the way his shoulders relax slightly. Something warm unfurls in my chest at the sight. I made him smile. I did that.
The thought sends my heart racing for entirely different reasons. This feeling—this warmth spreading through me—it’s nothing like what I felt when the masters would visit the Academy. Nothing like the sick dread that would pool in my stomach when I could feel their hungry eyes looking at me, even with the blindfold for cover. Nothing like when they’d take my hands and make me touch them. This is…something else. Something that makes my skin tingle and my pulse quicken in ways I don’t understand .
Finn moves to adjust another blanket, and the air shifts, carrying his scent to me. I inhale without thinking—sage and rain and something earthier underneath. It’s intoxicating. Comforting in a way that makes me want to burrow closer, to wrap myself in it until…
“You smell really good, too,” I blurt out, then immediately want to die of embarrassment. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I keep my stupid mouth shut around him? Is it because he’s an omega?
Finn freezes mid-motion, then lets out a startled laugh. “Careful,” he says, resuming his tufting. “Saying things like that to an omega usually means you want to fuck them.” His eyes go wide the instant the words leave his mouth. “Shit!” He squeezes his eyes shut tight. “Pardon my dirty mouth.”
The blush deepens, spreading down his neck as he stammers. “You smell good too,” he finally manages, clearly trying to change the subject. “The honey and vanilla…it’s nice. Really nice.”
I blink at him, momentarily distracted from my mortification. “Honey and vanilla?”
“Yeah, your scent…” He trails off, looking at me curiously. “You don’t…know what you smell like?”
I shake my head slowly. “Nobody’s ever…mentioned it before.” I’d never ever thought about it before either.
Something dark flashes across Finn’s face, there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it. But his voice stays gentle when he speaks. “Well, you smell like honey and vanilla. Sweet, but not cloying. It’s…comforting.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to do with that information. With any of this, really. Everything about this situation should terrify me—being in a strange house, surrounded by alphas, sharing an omega’s nest. But Finn’s presence is like a balm, soothing edges I didn’t even know were raw.
He goes back to arranging things, humming softly under his breath. The sound wraps around me like another blanket, making my eyelids feel heavy. I stop myself from sinking deeper into the softness around me. I’m pretty sure I slept for a whole day. Probably a result of not sleeping properly in…I can’t remember how long. But surely I can’t sleep again. Can’t let my guard down completely, even if…
“You can rest if you want,” Finn says quietly, like he can read my thoughts. “You’re safe here. I promise.”
“How can you know that?” The question comes out smaller and almost silent.
Finn pauses in his endless adjusting to look at me directly. Those gray eyes seem to see right through me, but not in an invasive way. More like he’s trying to understand something written in a language he’s still learning.
“Because this is my space,” he says finally. “My nest. Nothing bad happens here.” A small smile tugs at his lips. “Well, except for my questionable taste in reality TV. But that’s a different kind of suffering.” His grin is sheepish as he smooths down a corner of the blanket. “That one dude threatens to stage an intervention at least once a week.”
Despite myself, I feel my lips twitch. “Reality…TV?”
“Don’t judge me.” He points a stern finger that’s completely undermined by the sparkle in his eyes. “Until you’ve experienced the pure chaos of that dating show where they’re all stuck on an island together, you can’t understand the appeal. It’s like watching a beautiful train wreck in slow motion.”
The way he talks about it—so animated, so unguarded—makes something in my chest tingle. I’ve never seen anyone so…free with their joy. At the Academy, any show of emotion that wasn’t asked of you was promptly room for punishment. But Finn seems to wear his heart right on his sleeve, unashamed.
“I’ve never…” I hesitate, then push forward. “I’ve never watched reality TV.”
Instead of pity, his face lights up. “Oh my god, you’re in for a treat. We can start with the classics. That British baking competition is basically chicken soup for the soul. Though fair warning—it will make you desperately hungry for cake.”
He’s still talking, describing something about tent disasters and soggy bottoms, but I’m caught by the casual way he said ‘we.’ Like it’s a given that we’ll spend time together. Like he wants to share things with me. Like I’ll still be here tomorrow and the next day and the next.
My heart does that strange flutter again, and I find myself watching his hands as he gestures enthusiastically. They’re scarred, I notice. But they’re beautiful hands. Delicate yet capable.
“—and then there’s that show where they strand people on islands and make them compete in ridiculous challenges. The drama! The alliances! The—” He cuts himself off, catching my expression. “I’m overwhelming you, aren’t I?”
“No!” I say quickly, then softer, “No, it’s…nice. Hearing you talk about things you love.”
The smile he gives me is so bright it almost hurts to look at. “Well, speaking of things we need to talk about…” He settles back, crossing those long legs. “We should make a list of stuff you need. Clothes, toiletries, books if you want them. The basics.”
My stomach drops. “I don’t need anything. You’ve already?—”
“Hailey.” His voice is gentle but firm. “You have exactly one outfit, and while I appreciate that you managed to make my sweater look like high fashion, you need your own things.”
I glance down at his borrowed sweater, swimming on my frame. The sleeves are rolled up multiple times, and it still hangs low. “Thank you, but I can’t…I can’t accept?—”
“Yes, you can.” He leans forward slightly, and I catch another whiff of that intoxicating scent. “Look, I know it’s hard. Accepting help feels like…like you’re taking something you don’t deserve, right? But you do deserve it. Basic necessities aren’t charity; they’re rights.”
Tears prick at my eyes and I blink them back furiously. How does he do that? How does he see right through every wall I try to put up?
“I can’t pay you back,” I whisper.
“I’m not asking you to.” When I dare to look up, his expression is so earnest it makes my chest hurt. “Money isn’t an issue, Hailey. And before you protest—” He holds up a hand when I open my mouth. “I’m not bragging. I’m just stating a fact. Jax, Stone, and Ren earn more than enough?—”
My eyes widen. Using the alphas’ money? Oh God…
Finn blinks, hurrying on. “But that doesn’t matter because I have my own money, too.” He lifts his arms, palms down as if placating me. “We don’t have to touch a cent of theirs.” Then he frowns, something cold coming into his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I prefer not to. Between my knitting and some excellent investments, I can easily afford to help. Please let me do this.”
He knits?
I want to ask him more. Want to learn everything about this captivating creature, but a tear escapes instead, despite my best efforts. Finn makes a soft sound, reaching out like he wants to wipe it away, but stops himself. Always so careful with boundaries. Even now, when we’re literally sitting in his nest, he’s conscious of my space.
“Tell you what,” he says, voice deliberately light. “Think of it as payment for being my reality TV watching buddy. I need someone to share my terrible taste with. Stone and Jax are too highbrow—they only watch documentaries about, like, the migration patterns of butterflies or some shit.”
A wet laugh escapes me before I realize he’s talking about his mast—His alphas. What if they’re listening? What if they hear us talking about them? What will they do? Will they be angry? Finn doesn’t seem at all concerned about the fact the alphas are somewhere outside that door. As a matter of fact, he seems intent on ignoring that fact. The thought alone makes me nervous. But if they haven’t come in here yet…maybe what Finn has said about them is true?
Maybe this is a whole different world with different rules from the Academy.
“The butterflies sound interesting.” I hedge, just in case.
“Oh god, you’re one of them.” He clutches his chest dramatically. “My first friend in forever, a traitor to the cause of trashy television.”
Friend? The word sends a delicious shiver through me. It should frighten me, this casual claiming. Instead, it feels…right. Like slipping into warm water after being cold for so long.
“I could…” I take a deep breath. “I could maybe try both?”
His whole face softens. “Yeah? Cultural education on all fronts?”
I nod, twisting my fingers in my lap.
“We’ll start small. With the shopping, I mean. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He reaches for a tablet tucked between some pillows. “We can make a list, order online first if you’re not up for going out. Though fair warning—” That playful glint returns to his eyes. “Once you’re ready for actual shopping trips, I’m kind of unstoppable. Ask Jax about The Great Mall Incident three years ago.”
He wants me to talk to his alpha?
“What happened three years ago?” I manage to whisper, though the thought is now in my head, threatening to engulf me with unease.
“Let’s just say there was a sale at my favorite retailer, three different credit card companies called to verify suspicious activity, and I may have stress-bought an entire display of cashmere sweaters.” He pauses. “In my defense, they were really nice sweaters.”
The unease dissipates like it wasn’t there and a laugh bubbles up before I can stop it—small and rusty from disuse, but real. Finn beams like I’ve just given him a gift, and that warm feeling spreads through my chest again.
“Okay,” I say softly. “A small list.”
“A start,” he agrees, fingers hovering over the tablet. Then he looks up, expression turning serious. “And Hailey? Thank you. For trusting me with this.”
Something about the way he says it—like my trust is precious, like I’m giving him something valuable instead of the other way around—makes my eyes sting again. I don’t know how to respond, so I just nod.
He seems to understand anyway, turning his attention to the tablet. As he starts typing, I find myself studying him again. The way his brow furrows in concentration, the slight purse of his lips as he thinks. A lock of dark hair falls across his forehead, and I have the strangest urge to brush it back.
The thought startles me so badly I almost miss his question about shoe sizes. What is happening to me? These feelings, these…reactions. They’re foreign. Dangerous maybe. But watching Finn’s profile in the morning light, I can’t bring myself to be afraid.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel…safe.