Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
OLIVIA
The guys are all sitting on the couch, resting, watching a show after a long day of work. Do they not see the faint coating of dust on the vents? Or the slight wrinkle in the rug? I fidget with my hands, trying to focus on the TV, but my gaze keeps straying around the room. So many things to fix.
“Are you okay?” Sawyer murmurs, nudging me with his elbow. “You seem . . . distracted.”
I sigh. “It’s a mess in here.”
His eyebrows lift. “The guys and I cleaned on Sunday.”
“There’s dust everywhere,” I grumble, popping off the couch and walking to the vent, gesturing to it. “See? Dust! And the rug, did any of you realize the corner was curling up? And when was the last time you cleaned the light switches?”
Liam pauses the show.
Hayes and Wilder give me the exact same look—wide-eyed, deer-caught-in-headlights-type expression.
Sawyer’s lips twitch. “I’m not sure we’ve ever cleaned the light switches.”
“Why are you laughing? Do you think particulate matter is funny? It can kill people, you know?”
Wilder’s brow wrinkles. “Is that a virus?”
“No, stupid,” Hayes grumbles. “She’s still talking about the dust.”
“Thank you!” I say with a scoff. “It’s no laughing matter.”
Wilder’s mouth forms an O.
“Babe, I swear.” Sawyer puts his hand over his heart. “I don’t think dust is funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” Wilder whispers.
Liam sends him a warning glare.
I release a long exhale, hands falling on my hips, agitation crawling over my skin like hundreds of ants. Those vents are in bad shape.
“Come relax,” Hayes says, holding out his hand.
Shaking my head, I inspect the register like it’s a planet in need of conquering. There’s no way I can relax when there’s little dust creatures clinging to it. “I have to clean.”
“Now? It’s eight—ow!”
I spin around to see Wilder rubbing his ribs and Sawyer wearing an innocent look. Liam rises, turning off the TV altogether and slowly approaching me.
“How are you feeling?”
What type of question is that? “Fine, why?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“Is that so?” he asks, gaze shifting to my defensive posture before lifting to my face. “Do you feel feverish?”
“What? No, why would I—” I gasp. There are a few primary indicators of what he’s implying. I glance at the vent again. Since when have I cared about cleaning them? Seriously, though, it’s filthy. “Of course. All the signs are here.”
“What are you thinking, sweetness?” Wilder prompts.
“Impulsive, near-obsessive urges to clean. Irritation. Hunger. Fever.”
Liam nods. “All that leads to . . .”
“My heat is coming,” I whisper, biting my lip and suddenly feeling way out of my depth. “I’m in active preheat, and soon, I’ll want all of you in the nest. I’ll want to fuck all of you.” I gulp. “Fuck. All. Of you.” Maybe if I say it slower, it’ll feel more manageable.
Three purrs rumble through the living room. Liam cups my elbows and pulls me flush against his body. I soften and tip my head back.
“What if I’m bad at nesting?” All the vile words my mother has ever said to me surface, and that insecurity grows.
He grins and shakes his head. “Impossible.”
“I could be terr—”
His palm muffles the rest of the word. “No. You are amazing. You haven’t even started, and you’re already doing great.” He slides his hand to cup the back of my head. “And we’re going to help you clean.”
“We are? Ow, fuck. I mean, of course we are,” Wilder says quickly.
My eyes water. “The vents?” There’s no good reason for me to be emotional; I simply am and can’t control it. The thought of them helping me clean . . . I think I could cry.
“The vents, the rug, everything and anything you need. Just tell us what to do.”
Nodding, I blink back the tears and clear my throat. “Everyone take a vent. Someone order rug tape, then we’ll move to cleaning the window stools.”
“Sills?” Wilder asks in confusion.
“How are we twins?” Hayes grumbles. “The stools are the bottom ledge. Obviously that’s what she means.”
Wilder gives him a look. “Yes, obviously.”
The twins start bickering, but an alert dings, interrupting them. “Rug tape ordered.” Sawyer appears next to Liam. “You’re going to kick this nesting’s ass.”
“Should I do it alone?”
He rears back. “And exclude your pack from all this manic energy? Hell, no. Besides”—he dives in and kisses me—“I’ve been dying to clean the particulate matter.”
“Now you are making fun of me.”
He boops my nose. “Only a little, but I will take this dust seriously.”
Hayes and Wilder join us, one holding towels and the other holding an environmentally friendly cleaner. They’re protecting the vulnerable ecosystems surrounding Chicago?
My throat clogs with emotion and a tear slides down my face.
“Why is she crying? Oh god, the omega is leaking!”
“Wilder,” Sawyer says, biting back a laugh.
I wave my hand. “It’s fine,” I blubber. “The cleaner, just, there won’t be many volatile organic compounds in the air and the fish.” I shake my head and blink rapidly. “You’re saving the fish.” A sob bursts out of me.
If Wilder was worried before, he appears downright terrified now.
Hayes pulls me into his arms, shushing me. “It’s okay, omega. We love fish.”
“Does she know we eat—fuck, okay, okay! Jesus. Stop elbowing me!” Wilder complains.
“Maybe if you’d stop asking for it,” Sawyer grumbles.
“Children, no fighting.” Liam rubs my back.
Hayes pulls away slightly to look down at me. “Should we clean?”
“Yeah,” I say, sniffling again. “Those vents are really bothering me.”
“Then we better get to it,” he murmurs, squeezing me one more time in that bear-like hug.
Together, we get to work cleaning. The white rags end up a light shade of gray by the time we’re done with the vents and window stools.
Then I see the baseboards. I bite my cheek and glance at the men, who all nod and drop to their knees alongside me, coming along this cleaning journey with me every step of the way.
Homo sapiens have come so far. From living in caves, using sticks sharpened into tools, to discovering electricity and everything that’s happened since, we’ve advanced faster than any other animals, due to our cognitive abilities.
And yet it’s a nest, my own type of cave, that threatens to unravel all that progress and turn me into a growling, chest-pounding cavewoman.
With my hands on my hips, I glare at the mattress covered in blankets and pillows. Something isn’t right. Tipping my head up, I sniff the air, growling softly under my breath. That’s not right, either.
Stomping out of the nest, I march to Sawyer’s room. My perfume, heavy and thick, trails after me. It’s progressively getting stronger as each day passes. He’s reading a book, but he sets it aside as I slide his closet door open.
“What are you up to now?” he asks.
It’s been three days since my preheat began.
Three days of demanding texts from my mother that I’ve simply ignored.
Three days of nothing at all from my dads, not that I’m surprised.
I’ve managed to go to work and keep a mostly level head, but as soon as I step inside the house every night, I can’t help feeling that something needs to be done.
The guys have continued to offer their help, but right now, I don’t even want them in the same room with me.
Logically, I know the irritation is due to the hormones flooding my body. Realistically, as Sawyer joins me at the closet, I shoot him a threatening look and consider hissing at him.
“No touching.” Soon enough, I’ll be begging for their touch, even desperate for it. I guess my reaction now is meant to help my body process all the stimulation that’s coming my way.
He holds up his hands. “Of course not.”
I nod and turn back to the closet. “I need a shirt.” My eyes fall on the basket of dirty clothes. I pluck out the green shirt he wore the other day and bring it to my nose and breathe in. “Perfect.”
“I have clean ones.”
Shaking my head, I glance at him. “They don’t smell like you.” I lean forward and breathe him in, sighing. He smells so good. He reaches for me and I recoil. “No, bad alpha.”
He rolls his lips together and steps back.
Harrumphing, I head to Liam’s room next, stepping inside. He’s freshly showered with a towel wrapped around his waist, but all that tantalizing skin can wait. I need a shirt. NOW. He watches me grab one from his basket.
Sawyer leans against the doorframe. “She’s nesting hard.”
“She can hear you,” I grumble.
Liam clears his throat. “Can I help you?”
“Absolutely not. You stay here, with your hands where I can see them.”
The two of them laugh. Even I know how ridiculous I sound.
The thought of either of them touching me at this very second makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
Holding the treasures in my hand, I sidestep out of the room, keeping my eye on the two of them like a scared feral cat. They give me a wide berth.
Even when I’m being a little out of control, they’re so good to me.
“Good boys.”
Sawyer starts purring. Liam grins. They’re so cute. Honey and vanilla explodes around us. They move toward me. “Nope, absolutely not!” I race toward the twins’ room, practically falling inside as I push the door open.
“Whoa,” Wilder says, hopping off the bed. “Liv, what—”
I point at him. “Shhhh.”
He mimes zipping his lips. Hayes watches me with that quiet intensity, and my heart skips when our gazes collide.
“Hey, vixen.” His voice is extra grumbly, chased by what sounds like a touch of a growl.
“Hi,” I squeak, snatching one of his shirts and one of Wilder’s. “Okay, bye.” Turning, I start to retreat to my nest, but Sawyer and Liam are blocking the way. My pack’s scent surrounds me, and every muscle in my body clenches. “I’m not ready yet,” I whisper, glancing between them.
That confession has them easing away, giving me space I desperately need as I endure the last hours of preheat. I race to my nest, crawling onto the bed and cradling their shirts to my body, breathing in long and deep as contentment settles in my chest. Now it’s perfect.