Chapter 44
Desmond
“It started getting stronger a couple weeks ago. But have you noticed his perfume seems to be carrying hints of each of us?”
I glance at Alex, barely catching his grin as we pass under a streetlight before the cab goes dark again.
“Yeah. His tonka and plum are still the strongest,” he says. “But sometimes he walks by, and I get my smoke, then the next second it’s your hazelnut chocolate, and I swear there’s this sharp little note that’s purely Mason’s peppermint.”
My chest warms. “I thought I was imagining it.”
“You never imagine anything,” Alex says. “You read it somewhere, forgot you read it, then report it as fact.”
I huff, but he’s not wrong. “I did read something like that. Pregnant omegas sometimes carry the signatures of the alphas who bred them. But this feels… different.”
“How?”
“He smells like home,” I say quietly. “Like the whole pack at once.”
Alex is silent for a beat, then exhales slowly. “Yeah. That.”
Traffic thins as we turn onto the road that leads to the house.
The familiar security lights flick on in sequence when the SUV glides through the gate.
I feel my shoulders drop a fraction. No matter what I tell myself about being rational and patient, I can’t really breathe until I’m back where Hudson is.
Alex rests his head against the window and stares at the house as we roll closer. “You think we’re smothering him yet?”
“With the contractors, the shopping, and the constant hovering?” I shake my head. “Not yet. Give it another week.”
He laughs under his breath. “Good. I plan to hover harder.”
We park in the garage and climb out. The moment I open the interior door, warm scents hit me. Amy has something in the oven, probably for tomorrow. There’s coffee lingering from earlier, furniture polish, fresh laundry.
Beneath all of that, like a ribbon tying it together, is Hudson.
I feel him before I see him. That faint tug under my sternum tightens.
We move through the house together, our footsteps echoing softly over the hardwood.
As we pass the formal living room, there’s a folded stack of tiny onesies on the coffee table, tags still on, pastel colors and ridiculous prints.
I slow and brush my fingertips over one of them. The cartoon dinosaurs grin up at me.
Triplets.
Three small bodies in clothes like this. Three heartbeats. Three little heads tucked against Hudson’s chest while he glares at us for fussing too much.
My throat goes tight as emotion clogs it. Three babies. My omega.
I am living the dream life I never believed could happen.
“Come on,” Alex says gently.
We reach the omega quarters and I knock once, then push the door open. The lights are dim, a soft yellow glow shines from the bedroom.
We step into his bedroom to find blankets spill over the side in a messy pile, and in the middle of it all, Hudson is propped against the headboard. He’s made a sort of nest out of the bedding.
His hair is twisted into a loose knot at the back of his head, with wisps hanging around his face.
There’s a paperback open on his lap, but his eyes are on the doorway by the time we step inside.
That perfume of his floods the room, stronger than it was this morning, like warm dessert and smoke and something that’s uniquely him.
“Hey,” he says, a small smile touching his mouth. “You two look exhausted.”
Alex snorts and moves first, toeing off his shoes and dropping straight onto the bed as if gravity pulls him there. He crawls up beside Hudson and immediately buries his face in his neck.
“Long day?” Hudson asks, though his hand is already threading through Alex’s hair in slow strokes.
“Too long,” Alex mumbles into his skin. “You smell good.”
Hudson rolls his eyes, but his face brightens. “You say that every time you walk in here.”
“Because it’s true every time,” I say, stepping out of my shoes and setting my keys, phone, and wallet on the dresser before joining them.
The mattress dips under my weight. I lower myself down on Hudson’s other side and he shifts automatically, making room, our hips pressed against each other. His sweater rides up a little and I catch a glimpse of bare skin, as well as the very faint curve of his lower belly.
I rest a hand there, fingers splayed lightly. “How are they?”
“Tired,” he says. “Which means I’m tired. But the doctor said everything looks good.”
His voice softens on the last word. Good. He’s trying for casual, but I can hear the awe and fear in his tone.
“Still nauseated?” Alex asks, lifting his head.
“Less,” Hudson answers. “If I drink that disgusting tea Amy made me and nibble crackers like a ninety-year-old, I can usually avoid reenacting The Exorcist.”
“Hot,” Alex says. “Very attractive visual. I’m aroused.”
Hudson laughs, the sound small but real, and the bond hums. I can’t feel him the way Mason and Alex can through their marks, but even with my side of the bond incomplete, there’s a sense of rightness that settles over my nerves whenever he laughs.
I let my thumb draw slow circles over his stomach. “Did you rest today?”
He gives me that look, the one that says he knows exactly how much I’m hovering and is torn between being annoyed and secretly pleased. “I sat on my ass and watched trashy reality shows while Amy glared at me any time I tried to get up. So yes.”
“Good.”
He tilts his head back against the headboard and studies me. “You’re still wearing your suit?”
I glance down at the sleeves of my dress shirt, rolled to my forearms. “Technically.” I lost the jacket before I ever climbed into my vehicle.
“Lose the tie,” he says. “It makes me nervous. Like you’re about to tell me you filed another motion or whatever it is you lawyer types do all day.”
Alex chuckles. “He says ‘whatever’ like he didn’t read three legal thrillers in a row last week.”
Hudson nudges his shoulder. “Those had serial killers, not busy firm partners. Big difference.”
I loosen my tie and slip it free, then pop the top button of my shirt. The nest is warm, heated by their bodies and the layered blankets. Being here feels like stepping out of a storm and into a calm, steady tide.
Everything feels calm and nearly perfect.
Alex shifts down and lays his head on Hudson’s thigh, one arm across his shins as if staking a claim. He inhales deeply. “They definitely smell more like me today.”
Hudson snorts. “Get over yourself.”
I lean in and brush my nose along the side of his throat. The scent that clings to his skin puts my alpha instincts at peace. “He’s not wrong. You do smell like smoke.”
“And chocolate hazelnut,” Alex says, eyes closed. “And Mason’s stupid peppermint thing.”
Hudson goes very still. Just a flicker, but I feel it. His scent ripples with a note of uncertainty.
I glance toward the door automatically, even though I know Mason is still at the office. “He called Amy twice,” I say. “Checked on you. He pretended it was about the contractor, but it was definitely you.”
Hudson’s fingers pause in Alex’s hair. “He could have just called me.”
“He will,” Alex says quietly. “He’s trying to figure out how not to sound like an ass.”
“That ship sailed,” Hudson mutters.
My chest tightens. “He knows that.”
Hudson looks down at the sonogram photo tucked into the book on his lap. The black and white shapes stare back, tiny and unreal and incredibly important. His thumb rubs the edge of the paper until it bends slightly.
“I’m trying,” he says. “I know he panicked. I know this wasn’t the plan. I just…” He swallows. “It’s hard to forget hearing someone talk about erasing you out of their life.”
Alex sits up, expression serious now. “He was wrong. He knows it. You don’t have to forgive him tonight. Or ever if you don’t want to. But he is trying.”
Hudson’s gaze flicks between us. “And you? You two sure you won’t wake up one day and decide this is too much?”
“What?” My voice comes out sharper than I intend.
“Three babies. An omega who cries at commercials and pukes at the smell of coffee. My whole messy past. I was supposed to be a temporary solution. You keep acting like I’m…” He trails off, then forces a crooked smile. “Like I’m not temporary.”
“You’re not temporary,” I say. The words leave me before I can second-guess them. My heart beats hard against my ribs. “Hudson, I cannot picture my life without you in it. I don’t want to.”
Alex nods firmly. “Same. You’re it for me, omega.”
Hudson huffs, but his eyes shine. “You say that now.”
“I’ll say it when you’re yelling at me in the middle of the night because I loaded the dishwasher wrong,” Alex says. “I’ll say it when the triplets are teenagers and we’re all losing our minds.”
I take Hudson’s hand and bring his knuckles to my lips. “I need you to hear this. The only thing that scared me about you being pregnant was the possibility of losing you. Not the commitment. Not the work. You.”
His breath shudders out. “Des…”
I keep going before I lose my nerve. “I love you. I am completely in love with you. If you decide you want to stay here with us, as our omega, as part of Pack Anders, I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt that choice. If you decide you can’t, I’ll respect it, but it won’t change the way I feel. ”
The room is quiet. Even Alex stops fidgeting. My confession sits between us like something fragile and blazing.
Hudson stares at me, eyes wide and wet. The bond hums again, stronger this time, like something waking up.
“Desmond,” he whispers. “You can’t just drop that on me while I’m in my pajamas in a pile of blankets.”
Alex snorts softly. “Seems like the perfect time, actually.”
I manage a small smile. “I can get on one knee if you’d prefer.”
“Don’t you dare propose in bed,” he says, voice wobbling. “I’ll cry and then you’ll feel all smug about it.”
“Since when do I act smug about anything?” I ask with wide eyes.
“I feel smug,” Alex says. “Look at him. He loves us.”
Hudson swats his arm, then draws a shaky breath and looks back at me. “I do.” The words are barely audible, but they’re there. “I tried not to. I really did. But I do.”
Something loosens inside my chest, something that’s been wound tight since the day he walked into our house. My vision blurs for a second and I blink hard.
“Then maybe,” I say slowly, “we can start talking about something other than endings.”
His fingers tighten around mine. “You want me to stay. Permanently,” he says. It’s not a question.
“Yes.”
“Even if I’m a pain in the ass.”
“Especially then,” Alex says.
Hudson lets out a broken laugh that turns into a sob. He presses the heel of his hand to his eyes. “Stupid hormones.”
I lean in and press my forehead to his. “Hormones or not, I mean every word.”
His scent swells, warm and sweet and threaded with the faint sharp notes that belong to the pack. The room feels full, charged with something that feels like hope. Or maybe it’s magic.
I don’t know. All I know is everything feels as though I’ve entered another realm, like I’ve been walking through the best kind of dream ever since Hudson handed us that sonogram with three little blobs indicated by three letters.
“I’ll think about it,” he whispers against my mouth when I brush a light kiss over his lips. “I want to say yes right now. I just need… a little time to believe it’s real.”
“You can have all the time you need,” I say.
Alex curls around his other side, arm thrown across both our waists, as if he can keep us all in place through sheer stubbornness. “Take your time, omega. We’re not going anywhere.”
Hudson sinks between us with a long, shaky exhale. His head tips onto my shoulder, his hand splayed over his small bump. Under his palm, three lives grow. Between us, something new settles into shape, not quite named yet, but solid.
For the first time, the future doesn’t feel like a negotiation or a compromise. It feels like a path we’re already standing on, all four of us, facing the same direction.
I tighten my arm around him and close my eyes, letting his scent pull me under.
Whatever comes next, I know one thing with absolute certainty.
I am not letting him go.