Chapter 6 #2
“Once is enough,” Rhys says from the floor, voice even despite the fact that his entire body is trembling with effort. “Hi, Mia.”
I swallow, acutely aware of my jeans and cardigan and the fact that I am the only one here wearing an actual shirt.
“Hi,” I manage. “Um. You cleaned my bins.”
Subtle, Mia. Very smooth opening.
Eli’s mouth twitches. He keeps his eyes on the bar as Knox presses it up again. “They smelled,” he says simply.
I blink. “I—what?”
“Your trash cans,” he clarifies. “Don’t worry, ours smelled too. Chaos installed the wrong size bags. Leak city.”
“Chaos?” I echo.
Declan snorts mid-jump. “Rude but fair.”
“I can handle my own trash,” I say, trying to inject some firmness into my voice. It comes out more plaintive than I want. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Never said we had to,” Knox huffs. He reracks the bar with a clank and sits up, chest heaving. Sweat shines on his collarbones, rolling down to disappear into the waistband of his shorts. He grabs a towel and drags it over his face and hair. “Eli just hates bad smells.”
Eli’s nose wrinkles slightly, like the very memory offends him. “If we’re doing ours, doing yours adds forty-five seconds.”
“Power washer was already out.” Rhys adds from the floor, still annoyingly steady. “Water pressure had momentum.”
I press my lips together. They’re…not wrong. I know this.
“Still,” I say. “I don’t want you to feel…obligated. Or like I’m…some project you have to manage just because I’m alone.”
I hate how fragile that sounds. Like I’m begging them to believe me.
Eli looks up at that.
Really looks.
The weight plates clink as Knox strips them, the metallic sound sharp in the quiet. Declan lands lightly on the box and doesn’t jump again, attention shifting.
Rhys finally drops his plank, resting on his knees for a second before pushing to his feet with infuriating ease. He scoops up his laptop in one fluid motion before setting it on the workbench behind him.
Four sets of eyes. One omega doing her best impression of someone who isn’t about to combust.
“What gave you the impression we think you can’t?” Eli asks, voice even.
Julian’s heavy sigh when I asked him to help me bring in the groceries. “It’s just groceries, Mia. You don’t need a parade. I’ll get to it when I get to it.”
The way my face burned. The way I learned, right then, that asking for help wasn’t bonding. It was annoying.
I moved here for the dream, yes. But I wanted to walk into it perfect. I wanted to be the neighbor with the fresh cookies and the organized life, not the charity case next door who can’t even handle her own garbage.
“It’s just—” I flail for words that aren’t personal trauma monologue.
“I moved here to—” I stop. I can’t tell them I moved here for some dream I had since I revealed as an omega.
That’s pathetic. “To, uh, to have my own place, my own routines. I don’t want to be…
that neighbor. The one who always needs help. ”
“You asked us to stop drilling at eleven p.m..” Eli’s expression is unreadable. “That was not an unreasonable ask. That was basic noise-ordinance enforcement.”
“And you carried our deliveries over when the driver dumped them on your lawn,” Declan adds, hopping down from the box.
He wipes his hands on a towel and saunters closer, stopping just at the line where the garage floor meets the driveway.
He mirrors my stance like we’re at a neutral border.
“So if anyone’s got an outstanding tab in the neighbor-help ledger, it’s us, not you. ”
“That’s not—” I start.
“Mia,” Eli says quietly, that light-blue gaze intense. “We’re not keeping score.”
I wrap my cardigan a little tighter around me. “Maybe I am.” I give them a deprecating smile, because if I do anything, it’s overshare under stress. “Maybe I…keep score. For myself. So I know I’m not…taking too much.”
Eli’s jaw works. A tiny pulse ticks at the corner of his mouth, like he’s biting back three different opinions.
“Mia,” he says finally, carefully. “If helping you takes too much from us, that’s our job to manage. Not yours.”
My throat goes tight.
“Besides,” Knox says cheerfully, picking up a water bottle and chugging half of it. “We like doing it.”
I look at him sharply. “Like…power-washing trash cans.”
“Like making sure the pretty omega next door doesn’t touch smelly things if she doesn’t have to,” he says bluntly.
Heat erupts under my skin. “I can touch smelly things.”
“Yeah,” he says easily. “But you don’t have to. That’s the point.”
My mouth opens. Closes.
Before I can decide whether to argue or hyperventilate, a sharp, staccato heel-click echoes on the sidewalk.
“Afternoon!” Carol trills.
Oh God, of course she decides to show up now.
I turn slightly, keeping my feet planted on the concrete. Mrs. HOA herself is approaching, a pastel blouse paired with crisp white capris and a leash in one manicured hand.
At the end of the leash, a Jack Russel Terrier prances, fur perfectly fluffed. The dog’s bow is pink. The dog, I know from the neighborhood app, is the infamous Pip.
Pip spots Mala’s lingering scent on the grass and immediately stops to pee over it.
“Mia,” Carol singsongs. “Hello, dear.”
I paste on my best polite smile. “Hi, Carol.”
Her gaze flicks from me to the garage and back. Her expression doesn’t change, but something in her eyes sharpens. Ah, she’s saying without words. I see you’re with the shirtless men again.
“Boys,” she nods toward the garage. “Hard at work, I see.”
Eli’s entire body goes a fraction stiller. Knox’s water bottle pauses halfway to his mouth. Declan’s easy grin fades one watt. Rhys’s expression shutters completely, flat as stone.
The air feels…different. Heavier.
I’m suddenly very aware that I’m standing between the HOA president and three alphas plus one beta who have very little patience for passive-aggressive bullshit.
Carol’s attention slides back to me like I’m the safer target.
“I just wanted to check in,” she says, voice dropping into her Concerning But Supportive register.
“I know you’ve been very involved in…hosting.
” She glances meaningfully at the open garage, at the wire racks, at the faint clang of a weight being racked.
“I wanted to make sure you don’t feel pressured to do so.
Sweetwater Pines prides itself on being a peaceful, family-oriented community.
We don’t want anyone to feel…obligated to manage any new elements. ”
New elements?
It’s clear she’s talking about the four shirtless men at my back, and for some reason, my back stiffens.
I’m fine. I can manage them. I’m not being swept away.
Behind me, I can feel the men tense like a single organism.
Knox’s slow-poured molasses shifts sharper, like caramel pushed to the edge of burning.
Declan’s usually bright energy goes tight, his amusement stripped away.
Rhys is silent, but I can feel the intensity of his attention like a weight on the side of my face.
Eli goes quiet in that dangerous way, like a lake freezing over.
If they snap at Carol, they’re screwed.
If Eli, especially, lets that beta-voice sharpen with the hard edges I know are under there, Carol will slap nuisance and threat labels on them faster than you can say HOA meeting agenda.
My omega bristles. She bristles at the idea of anyone putting my…my neighbors in a position where they have to swallow who they are to appease her.
This is a bad idea, my prefrontal cortex whispers.
I do it anyway.
I pull in a breath, paste on my blandest, most middle-of-the-road smile, and weaponize every boring, risk-averse instinct I have.
“Actually,” I say lightly, shifting my weight so I’m angled more toward Carol, my shoulder subtly cutting off the sightline to the bench press where Knox is still shirtless. “We were just talking about the neighborhood watch protocols.”
Carol blinks. “I’m sorry?”
“The app,” I say, nodding back toward the house.
“Since the Traynor app already does location-sharing, they’ve been helping me update my home security.
Front door camera, motion alerts, the boring stuff.
” I let my voice go flatter on the word boring, like I’m talking about tax software.
“I’m…not very technical, so they’ve been walking me through it. ”
Rhys’s attention spikes behind me. I can feel it like a poke between my shoulder blades.
Carol’s expression shifts, the satisfaction of possible scandal fading, replaced by something more scheming.
“Oh,” she says slowly. “Security. Well, we do appreciate responsible homeowners taking initiative. We had that break-in last year over on Cedar. Terrible business.” She shudders delicately. “I suppose that sort of disruption is… expected.”
“Mia was worried about the server fans,” Declan throws in from behind me, tone suddenly pitching up into enthusiastic nerd. “They’re loud. We were explaining decibel thresholds.”
I don’t have to see his face to know he’s grinning like a golden retriever who just fetched a ball. Good boy, have a treat.
“Yes,” I nod immediately, latching on. “Lots of…specs. Very boring. Very technical.”
Carol relaxes. “Well,” she says, smoothing her blouse.
“In that case, of course. Just as long as it stays within the ordinance limits.” Her eyes dart briefly toward Knox’s bare chest, then back to my face.
“And you know, Mia, if you ever do feel overwhelmed. Or unsure how to handle…anything…my door is always open. We take care of our own here.”
There’s an unspoken as long as you don’t side with the loud ones under that. I hear it.
I smile brighter. “Thank you, Carol,” I say sweetly. “I appreciate that. And I’ll be sure to bring up any concerns in the proper channels.”
Because I will not be gossiping with you over hedges.
She studies me for another heartbeat, then gives Pip’s leash a little tug. “Enjoy your… tech talk,” she says. “Boys.”
They all murmur some form of polite acknowledgment. Eli’s sounds the least like a growl.