Later that Night
Grason
A few hours after dinner, the house settles into that quiet calm that only comes once everything’s been cleaned and put away.
Tansy and Beck sit on the long navy couch facing one another, with soft lamplight pooling around it.
Tansy’s knees are tucked under her bottom while Beck talks with his hands the way he always does.
Cass and I take the matching chairs opposite them.
Cass has his bad leg stretched out, posture relaxed but careful, his cane within easy reach.
Warren isn’t with us. He’s pacing the far end of the room with his phone pressed to his ear, voice low and professional as he handles work calls that apparently couldn’t wait.
I gotta be honest, I didn’t think Cass had it in him to actually hand over the reins.
The pack alpha has always handled everything himself, even when it cost him sleep, blood, or bone. Especially then. I honestly thought he’d keep doing it now, injury or not, stubborn enough to grind himself down before admitting he needed help.
But Warren’s been running around all day, fielding problems, and making decisions that would normally land square on Cass’s shoulders.
And Cass is sitting here instead. Leg stretched out. Cane close. Chatting with Beck like he doesn't have a care in the world.
He must have a shit-ton of trust in Warren.
I get it.
I trust him that much too.
“I’m telling you,” Beck says to Cass, all animated, “you do not get to slack just because you’re dramatic about it. Dr. Pace said you need physical therapy three times a week, and that’s what you’ll do.”
Cass gives the beta a heavy sigh. “I’m not dramatic. I’m realistic,” he says. “Three times a week is a little much.”
Tansy listens to the pair bicker back and forth, smiling faintly, but I catch the moment her chest suddenly expands. She turns her face slightly, covering her mouth as she tries to stifle a yawn.
Cass catches it anyway.
His gaze flicks to her, then down to his phone. He checks the time, brows lifting a fraction. “Alright,” he says, before looking back at Beck. “How about you show Tansy her nesting room, before we call it a night?”
Beck brightens instantly, like he’s been waiting an eternity to hear that. “Yeah,” he says, already pushing to his feet. “Come on.” He holds out a hand to help Tansy up. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”
Tansy nods, still blinking sleep from her eyes as she takes Beck’s hand. Then they head for the stairs, Beck talking a mile a minute, talking about light fixtures and nesting pillows.
Cass reaches for his cane, and I’m instantly on my feet, stepping in close, hand half-raised, ready to brace him. But Cass lifts his hand without looking at me, silently telling me he’s got it.
I stop immediately.
The pack alpha grips the cane, plants it, and pushes himself upright on his own. He’s not fast, but he's steady, controlled. He exhales through his nose once he’s fully standing, then rolls his shoulder like he’s loosening something tight.
Only then does he glance at me. “Go on,” he says simply. “You can go with them.”
For half a second, I’m not sure I heard him right.
“Really?”
Cass nods, smiling. “Yeah. You worked hard on that room. You should be there when she sees it for the first time.”
My chest lights up, excitement crashing through me so hard I have to physically rein it in. I nod once, probably too fast, heart already thudding at the thought of seeing her reaction.
“Yell if you need anything,” I say, then race toward the stairs, brushing past Warren and quickly catching up to Beck and Tansy before they reach the landing.
The pair move together closely, shoulders nearly brushing.
Beck’s lithe, little body, all lean muscle and graceful lines, is angled toward Tansy like he’s not quite sure where to put himself. He’s restless, almost vibrating with nervous energy.
Tansy, on the other hand, walks with a quiet grace.
She’s still a little unsteady, flushed with post-heat warmth, her dark red hair loose around her shoulders, and her eyes tired but curious.
There’s something so elegant in the way her long legs move, her curves soft and generous, a stark, wonderful contrast to Beck’s lean figure.
They’re both so beautiful in very different ways.
“This way.” Beck takes Tansy’s hand and leads her toward the hallway. “We put your nest in the coziest room in the house.”
They pick up their pace, and my nerves instantly flare.
I really hope she likes her room.
“Gray.” Beck glances back over his shoulder at me, eyebrows lifting. “Her room’s ready, right?” he whispers like Tansy isn’t standing right next to him.
“Yeah,” I say, but I’m suddenly not so sure.
Did I throw out all the boxes?
Doubt fills my head, and I hurry ahead, long strides eating up the hallway as I move past Beck and Tansy.
I worked so hard to get everything ready.
I built shelves, hand-picked blankets, sheets, and pillows.
I even installed brand-new lighting fixtures that bathe the whole room in a soft golden light.
I reach the door and swing it open, spanning the whole room all at once.
It’s exactly as I left it.
The space is cozy in a way the rest of the house isn’t, soft and plush.
The walls are painted a muted cream with a hint of warmth to it, not white, not stark.
Something that reflects light instead of bouncing it back too hard.
The ceiling slopes a little, enough to make the room feel tucked in on itself, like it’s holding its breath.
And the rose-colored carpet has never been walked on.
There’s a window on the far wall, tall and wide, framed with lace curtains that let in the late-evening glow without exposing too much of the outside world. I positioned the bed so the light wouldn't hit her nest directly.
The shelves I built line one wall, low and wide, and are made of maple. They’re stocked with baskets, folded blankets, and plenty of empty space for her things.
And then there’s the nest.
God. It really does look like a mess.
It’s a heap of blankets and pillows layered on the round nesting mattress. Every shade of pink is layered together in thick quilts, plush throws, pillows of every size, some overstuffed, some barely there, all pulled into a loose circle that dips in the center.
I tried to make it nice, but I’m not sure I succeeded.
My eyes sweep the room one more time, hands curling and uncurling at my sides, taking it all in with fresh eyes, but now that Tansy is right down the hall, all I can see are the things I missed.
I should have installed a fan, and an air purifier….and maybe a sound machine?
The faint sound of footsteps reaches me, followed by the faint creak of the door opening right behind me.
Tansy steps into the room first. Beck right behind her.
Then she stops short. She’s completely silent for a few agonizing seconds, before a gentle “Oh, my,” leaves her lips.
My chest seizes as her eyes sweep the room, wide and shining, taking in the walls, the window, the shelves. Then they land on the nest. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. She blankly stares.
I can’t tell if that look means she loves it or if it’s so bad she doesn’t even know what to say.
But the longer she’s silent, the worse I feel.
Beck glances between Tansy and the bed, clearly unsure what to do with the silence. “Uh,” he starts, too quiet, like he’s afraid he’ll scare her if he talks too loud. “Grason made it.” He cuts me a sweet, bashful smile. “What do you think?”
Tansy finally breathes in, slow and shaky, and then she whispers, “I…I love it.”
Her words wash over me, making my chest expand and my knees almost give out.
I can breathe again.
“It’s so lovely,” Tansy whispers, but there’s something in her eyes that doesn’t quite match the softness of her voice. There’s a tightness there, like she’s bracing for something awful to happen any second now.
I catch Beck’s eye over her shoulder.
He sees it too.
The beta’s mouth presses into a thin line, concern flickering across his face before he schools it away. “I’m so jealous,” he says lightly, trying to fill the space. “Gray did an amazing job. It’s so snuggly and pretty.”
Tansy nods, but before either of us can say anything else, the doorbell echoes through the house, making Tansy flinch.
“Shit,” Beck mutters immediately. He glances toward the hall, already moving.
“That’s gotta be the grocery delivery.” He looks back at us, hesitating for half a second like he doesn’t want to leave Tansy’s side.
Then he swears again, softer this time, and bolts for the door.
“I’ll be right back,” he yells over his shoulder, already gone.
Everything goes quiet, me and Tansy standing in the room I built for her.
Then Tansy moves.
She drifts from one corner of the room to the next, touching the velvety walls.
When she reaches the bookshelves, her slim fingers trail along the edge, light and careful, testing the smoothness of it.
She pauses at one of the baskets, lifts the edge of a folded blanket, then lets it fall carefully back into place.
She moves to her nest, lowering herself next to it in one smooth motion, knees folding carefully beneath her.
She leans in and presses her palm into one of the pillows, then another, sinking just a little before pulling her hand back.
Her shoulders ease a fraction, and that tiny change fills me with a quiet, aching pride.
Fuck, I wish I could talk to her.
Every instinct in me is screaming to say something, to step forward, and caress her cheek.
To explain why I chose those colors. Why I left space on the shelves. Why the blankets are layered the way they are.
I want to tell her I worried about the floor being too cold. That I debated the bed placement for hours. That I kept imagining her curled up here, safe and sound.
But I can’t.
My punishment sits heavy and immovable on my chest, a hard line I won’t cross, even while we’re alone.