24. Then - Oscar
Then - Oscar
“I don’t get it.” A scoff in the back of his throat, Brett tosses his notepad down and sprawls on his back on the floor. “None of this shit makes sense to me.”
“And it won’t,” I point out drily. “If you don’t bother finishing it. We need to finish those questions. I’ll go through it again.”
He stretches, a yawn pulling at his mouth before he smothers it with the back of his hand. “Honestly. If Dad wasn’t so obsessed with college, I probably wouldn’t bother. There has to be an easier way. This room is grim, Oz. Put a fucking poster up.”
I feel my lips tug down as I glance around at the bare walls. “Well… Max and Jake aren’t going to college. Maybe I will. I don’t want to mark the walls.”
Not when May and Charles were good enough to let me stay. I’m under no illusions as to why I’m here, at least in Charles’s eyes. I glance at the book again. “Come on.”
But Brett isn’t listening. “Yeah, and they’re gonna be doing the same thing in ten years. Twenty. They’re not exactly going places.”
I stiffen at the judgmental tone in his voice, tearing my eyes from the wall opposite me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on .” He rolls his eyes. “Max thinks he’ll be happy wandering through the forest for the rest of his life. Jake and his trees. Neither of them have any ambition.”
“That’s unfair,” I say quietly. But there’s steel in my voice. “They work hard. But there’s more to life than work.”
And neither of them have the luxury of not working. Something which seems to have passed him by altogether.
“Money makes the world go around.” He swirls his finger in the air. “Honestly. You know Kenny’s thinking of applying to come with us when we leave?”
I didn’t think it was possible for me to turn any stiffer. Averting my gaze, I purse my lips as I stare down at the words on the page in front of me. They swim in and out. “Yeah. It’s a good idea.”
He snorts. “Is it? She doesn’t need it. Not like she’ll be working anyway, not once we get set up.”
My grip tighten on the pen. “What?”
“I don’t want my omega working.” He rolls onto his side, propping his head up. He smirks at me. “She needs to be at home. Barefoot. Pregnant, preferably. She’ll have better ways to spend her time than working.”
The book slips out of my hands. “Tell me you’re joking. What the fuck , Brett?”
That’s not the first time he’s made a similar comment. But the first time he’s said it so… openly. “We’re seventeen . And Kenny can do whatever she wants. Where the hell is this coming from?”
We haven’t even asked her. Not outright. Not yet.
And for the first time, I wonder… if we are the right pack for her. My eyes sweep over Brett again, my lips pressing together.
He’s… not joking. I can tell. His mouth twists unpleasantly as he shrugs. “What? I just think it’s a waste of time. Not that Theo agrees. He nearly bit my head off when I mentioned it.”
He eyes me expectantly. “You won’t say anything to her.”
It’s not a question. It never is with him, I’m starting to understand. Only demands, commands, statements of fact – at least in his view. Brett’s pale green eyes bore into mine, expecting me to drop my own gaze. I normally do.
But… not this time. My face remains steady, and shock flashes across his face as I hold his gaze. My words come out, quiet but loud enough for the silence. “Won’t I?”
Watch yourself.
“She’s not just yours,” I say softly. “Nor any of ours, Brett. She’s not a possession . You won’t treat her like it.”
I won’t let you.
He’s not the only one with dominance in this pack, future lead or not. Maybe he’s overdue a reminder.
Brett’s face darkens. “She—,”
Our heads both jerk at the enthusiastic knock on the door. “Hello?”
Silence. We both stare at each other. Tension thickens the room.
“Remember your place, Oscar.” Brett’s words are barely a murmur, but they strike like bullets, each one of them shredding something inside my chest. “My parents took you in because I asked them to. But they can just as easily rescind the invitation.”
The implication is clear. Something integral… shifts . Something that should feel like brotherhood, and comfort, and familiarity. Something that should feel like pack.
As if a thread between us snaps.
It hurts. But I don’t move, even as the door knocks again. Even as I gather my own ammunition. “You won’t say a single word to Kennedy about her going to college. Or you’re the one who won’t be going, Brett.”
Because we both know that without my help, he won’t get through the door.
That’s why I’m here. Why Charles stepped in, pulled me from the grasp of CPS when my parents died and installed me here.
I’m very aware that my presence in this house is for Brett’s benefit. Not that it hurts Charle’s reputation in town, to be seen as the man who stepped in and stepped up.
But I’m not the thirteen year old kid I used to be.
And as I stare at Brett – my friend. My brother. I realize that maybe neither of us are the kids we used to be.
He wavers. But then he’s up, slapping my shoulder with a grin as he swaggers to the door. “Fucking hell, Oz. Don’t be so damned serious all the time.”
I’m not as good at shifting as he is. Kenny’s voice filters through. “May sent me up to get you. Dinner’s ready.”
There’s amusement in Brett’s voice. “Did you help her?”
“Only a bit.”
“Good girl.” He’s smirking at me over her head, where she can’t see. “Mom’s a great cook. You’ll learn in no time.”
Kenny’s smiling, but it slips a little as she glances between us. I don’t say anything, and she settles on me. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I force a smile. “Let’s go.”
“Actually.” She shifts on her feet. “Can I speak to you for a sec? It’s about that essay.”
“Sure.” I step back to let her through, catching Brett’s eye. “We’ll follow you.”
He doesn’t smile. “Sure.”
“Brett.” I murmur quietly enough that only he can hear me. “You might have been joking. But I wasn’t.”
His jaw tightens. A short nod is all he gives me before he turns away.
Kenny is almost dancing when I close the door, already tugging a crumpled envelope from the denim pocket of her jean shorts. “I got this today.”
I push away the bad thoughts, trying to leave them on the other side of the door. “What does it say?”
She inhales, cinnamon hair shaking around her face as she looks up. Uncertainty fills her eyes. “I don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet. Will you… open it? For me?”
She slips her fingers into mine, towing me over to the bed and pulling me down beside her before she thrusts the envelope at me. “Please.”
Her fingers are trembling. Instinctively, I catch them as she pulls back, keeping them entwined with mine as I use my other hand to nudge the flap open and tug the letter free. Unfolding it against my shorts, I flick my eyes over it. She watches my every movement in the corner of my eye, her teeth buried in her lip.
“Stop that.” My smile threatens, but I bury it, biting the inside of my cheek. “Read it, Ken.”
Slowly, she reaches for the letter. My smile breaks free, grows. “Dear Kennedy. We are pleased to inform you…,”
Her words trail off. Grinning, I pull her hand closer and press my lips to the back of it. “You did it, Ken. You got in.”
All the nights. The hours. The frustration. All of it, for this.
“I got in,” she breathes. She repeats the words, almost dazedly, as she stares at the words on the page. “I got in?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I’m going with you?”
My heart . It thuds in my chest. “Yeah, Ken. You’re coming with us.”
Her smile falters. “Max and Jake—,”
But I’m shaking my head. “Don’t you worry about it. They’re gonna be so proud of you. You earned this, Kenny. Enjoy it.”
The letter slips from her fingers. And then she’s laughing, crying, a bundle of joy and nerves and excitement as she throws herself at me. I catch her, both of us tumbling backward as she laughs against me, both of our bodies shaking. “I got in!”
Smiling, I push back her hair so I can see her face. “I’m proud of you. In case I didn’t say it.”
I… can’t remember what I’ve said. Not right now, all though emptying from my head like a cloud of butterflies taking flight. They seem to settle in my stomach. Kenny’s face softens, her eyes widening and a flush unfurling against her cheeks. She’s plastered against me, our legs entwined.
Our noses brush together, and I inhale as she presses her cheek to mine, whispering in my ear. “Tell me… tell me this won’t change anything.”
I know what she means. My hand settles against her back. My palm fits her easily, in a way it didn’t only a few months ago. May told me that I’d grown, but now with Kenny curled against me, I can actually feel it.
All of us are growing up. “It won’t change anything. Jake and Max will stay here. They’re gonna work on the house. We’ll come home for the holidays. And when we’re finished…,”
“You’ll be a pack,” Ken whispers. Her words are hesitant, and my chest squeezes. Contracts. “You’ll come home, right?”
This isn’t a conversation for us. Not just us. Not alone.
I take a breath. Breathing in sweet cherry, the warm scent of chocolate. So familiar, and yet not. “We. We’ll come home, Ken.”
There is no home for me without you.
Her smile grows slightly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say roughly. My hand strokes down, her lips parting. “We’re gonna build a really good one, Ken. All of us.”
My mind drifts to Brett, but I shove the thoughts away. They don’t belong here, in this moment. We’ll work it out.
I want that. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.
“I’ve never had a proper home.” Her smile dims slightly. “That sounds… nice.”
I study her. Kenny… her house isn’t a home . I know that, know that it hurts her. I know that her dad’s an asshole that she rarely sees. She craves stability. Needs it, even, thanks to her biology.
Maybe I need it too. Or maybe I just understand it.
I don’t have a home either.
“We’re coming home, Ken.” I whisper it. Like a promise, just for the two of us. “And we’re all gonna be together. I’m going to make sure of it. Okay? Don’t ever doubt it.”
She searches my face. “Okay.”
We should go down. But I can’t bring myself to move. So I blurt out the first thought that comes into my mind. “We can play board games.”
Her lips twitch. Kenny’s eyes brighten. “I like board games.”
Thank god for that. I shove the embarrassment away. “Me too. Pack game night it is.”
She looks on the verge of laughter. “Snake and ladders?”
I can see it. There, on the edges of my mind. “There needs to be popcorn. A tray for different toppings. Tacos, obviously.”
She hums, smiling against my skin. “Blankets.”
A nest. Her own space, carved out in the middle of our pack. At the heart of it. “All the blankets. And… pillows.”
“Socks.” She ducks her head. “Fluffy socks. Hoodies. And candles.”
I press my lips to the top of her head. “All the candles. So many candles we’ll feel sick. What else? What do you want it to look like?”
I’m taking notes.
Her forehead scrunches. “No windows.”
My head bobs in a nod. “No windows. Lights?”
“Little ones.” She’s wearing her deep thought face, and I watch every flicker as she thinks about it. “Snacks are a must. And drinks.”
“Obviously.” I breathe her in again. “Can’t get dehydrated.”
She flushes so deeply that I can almost feel the heat. “No.”
‘What… oh. Now I’m blushing, too. Clearing my throat, I push my glasses up my nose.
“Clothes,” she mumbles. She doesn’t look at me. “That would probably… probably work. And maybe… like a tent, almost? With lights... I don’t know. Kind of like stars, I guess. Like the night sky. That sounds nice.”
A tent. I sketch out ideas in my mind, trying not to think about her burying into a nest of our clothes when she’s spread over me. “Okay. That sounds like a…a good nest.”
“I’ll learn, I guess.” She sighs. “When I get one.”
“You don’t need to learn anything, Ken.” The words escape with a ferocity that has her glancing up at me. “You’re perfect just as you are. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
Ever.