The Nesting Room
Tansy
We’ve been tucked into my nest for a few hours now.
The lights are low. My blankets are piled everywhere, soft and familiar, and I’m curled on my side in a pair of tiny cotton shorts and a loose shirt that smells faintly like Warren for some reason.
Beck is stretched out beside me, his socked feet crossed at the ankles, wearing one of his oversized sweaters that makes him look even softer than usual.
“But the problem is that Warren didn’t clean out the pan after cooking the first batch of bacon,” Beck says, mid-story.
“He just slaps in more without thinking about it.” He claps his hands together sharply.
“The grease explodes.” Beck’s eyes go wide, and I lean in.
“It’s everywhere, popping like gunfire. It hits the cabinets.
The backsplash. The ceiling.” Beck’s hands move dramatically, playing it all out.
“I swear some of it achieved orbit.” The beta pauses, giving me a dramatic look. “And then the pan catches fire.”
I gasp.
“So of course, Warren panics,” Beck says, “and tosses the damn thing into the sink and turns the water on high.”
“No!” I cover my mouth.
“Oh, yes,” Beck nods. “A wave of hot grease and water erupts from the sink. Warren springs back,” Beck hops up onto his knees in the middle of my nest, fully committed to the story.
“His bare feet slide right through the grease he just spilled. And he falls back, flat on his ass.” Beck throws himself backward onto the blankets with a loud thump.
“He just laid there. Covered in soot, water, and grease, the soles of his feet burning and his pride mortally wounded.”
I feel awful, but I lose it. Laughter bursts out of me, loud and uncontrollable, my stomach aching as I curl forward. “That’s awful!”
Beck sits up, smiling widely. “And that’s why Warren doesn’t cook anymore.”
I wipe at my eyes, still laughing. “I feel so bad for him.” I place my hand on my chest. “That poor baby.”
“Poor us,” Beck corrects. “We were cleaning congealed grease off the ceiling for weeks.”
“Well, I’ll make sure not to ask for his help in the kitchen.” I reach for another gummy bear, popping it into my mouth.
“He’s a much better handyman anyway.” Beck snuggles back up against my side, grabbing a handful of gummies and pouring them into his mouth.
The snacks are scattered around us like we planned for a siege. Half a plate of cookies. An open bag of chips. One box of crackers demolished, the other still somehow sealed.
“How are you feeling?” Beck shifts onto his side to face me, propping his head on his hand. “You good?” he asks as those bright blue eyes scan my face.
I nod without hesitation. “Yeah. I really am.” And for once, I don’t feel like I’m lying. I just feel happy. And light. “I think Cass is working overtime, flooding our bond with all his feel-good vibes.” I tap my temple.
Beck hums like that sounds amazing. “The perks of a mental bond. Built-in serotonin boosters if your mates are nice.”
“Hey, do you—” I hesitate for a second, not sure if I should ask my next question, but Beck leans in, eyes wide, like he’ll die if I don’t finish my thought. “Do you have that with Cass?” I ask carefully. “A mental bond, I mean.”
Beck shakes his head once. “No,” he says simply.
My stomach drops. “Oh. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay,” he says with a sweet laugh. “Really.” He looks right into my eyes. “A lot of betas don’t have mental bonds with their alphas. It’s actually pretty common.”
That makes me feel a little better, but I still study his face. “Does that ever…bother you?”
He’s quiet for a moment, eyes drifting to the ceiling like he’s trying to remember. “Not now,” he says honestly. “But at first, it did.”
My chest tightens for him.
“I used to worry that it meant we were missing something in our relationship,” he continues. “Like Cass and I weren’t really mates if I couldn’t feel him.”
I nod slowly, listening.
“But I realized a long time ago how silly that was.” He reaches for another gummy bear.
“I don’t need to feel Cass in my head to know how much he loves me.
He shows me every day. In a hundred little ways.
Same with Warren and Gray.” He pops the gummy bear in his mouth.
“Love doesn’t only live in bonds. It lives in actions.
And our boys are very good at showing their love. ”
Something warm settles in my chest. “I like that," I say quietly. “And it makes sense. I mean, I’m only connected to Cass, but I know that Warren and Grason feel deeply for me.”
“They really do,” Beck says, like he’s relieved I know that.
“I remember not long after Cass mated me, I was pretty sad we didn’t have a bond.
He sat me down and explained that it was a lot like with family.
That while I didn’t have a mental bond with my parents, I knew, without question, that they loved me .
” He shrugs lightly. “You don’t need a voice in your head to prove love is real. ”
That lands somewhere tender in my chest, and my thoughts suddenly drift somewhere else entirely. To my parents.
The urge to call them once again rises up, sharp and complicated. I do want to talk to my family. After all, they’re probably worried sick about me. It’s cruel not to tell them I’m okay.
But the thought of actually speaking to them still makes my stomach twist.
Especially, my mom. The thought of talking to her leaves me feeling wrung out already.
Swallowing hard, I reach for another gummy bear, rolling it between my fingers.
“Beck?”
“Yeah?” He picks a bit of fuzz off his shirt.
“I think,” I say slowly, “I need to call my family.”
Beck’s head snaps up immediately. “Okay,” he says, eyes wide. “Yeah. We can do that.” He already starts shifting, sitting up straighter. “Let’s call them.”
My stomach tightens, nerves fluttering, but I force myself to take a breath. “Okay,” I say, nodding once. And that single motion feels like a decision locking into place.
Beck moves quickly, helping me to stand. I smile at him, but even I can feel the tension on my face. Something thoughtful flickers behind the beta’s eyes, clearly confused by my expression, but he doesn't ask me to explain myself.
Thank goodness.
“Come on.” Beck takes my hand. “We’ll walk to Cass’s office together.”
I step forward, leaving the safety of my little nest, and whatever comfort it gave me evaporates instantly. It’s replaced by a low, growling anxiety that curls tight in my stomach as I follow him to the door.
This is the right thing to do, I remind myself. It’s cruel not to tell them I’m okay.
Beck moves at my pace, walking slowly as we make our way down the stairs and through the house. We stop outside Cass’s office, and Beck lifts his hand. He knocks once, and the door pushes open on its own with a low creak.
Inside, Cass, Grason, and Warren are all standing near the desk. No one is sitting.
Cass’s cane is propped against the desk, his posture rigid. Grason’s arms are crossed tight over his chest. Warren’s jaw is set, his attention snapping to the doorway the second we appear.
The room feels heavy. Focused. Like whatever conversation they were having stopped mid-thought.
Beck freezes for half a beat, then recovers smoothly. “Hey,” he says, light but careful. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He tugs me forward.
Cass’s expression changes immediately when he sees me. The tension in his shoulders eases just a little. “You’re not interrupting anything,” he says, his gaze darting from Beck to me, then back again. “What do you need?”
My whole body feels numb, heart pounding as I take a deep breath. “I was hoping I could call my family,” I say, and to my surprise, my voice is steadier than I thought it would be.
“Of course,” Cass says without hesitation.
Warren and Gray exchange a quick look, both alphas suddenly looking relieved and nervous at the same time. Their similar expressions make my chest tighten.
Cass probably told them about the anxiety that rippled through our bond the last time I was told I could talk to my family. They have to be wondering what kind of omega doesn’t want to speak to her parents, but I don’t have the energy to explain it.
“Here you go.” Cass leans over his desk and reaches for a sticky note hanging off the edge of his desk lamp. He peels it off and holds it out to me. “Your dad’s number,” he says simply. “I wasn’t sure if you knew it by heart.”
I blink, surprised, and take it from him. The familiar string of digits sits there in Cass’s neat, blocky handwriting.
“Um,” I say softly, gripping the sticky note tightly. “Thank you.”
Grason uncrosses his arms, already stepping back to give me space. “We were just finishing up.” He glances at Warren.
“We’ll clear out,” Warren says. “Give you some privacy.”
Relief washes through me.
While I’d love to have the support of my pack, I really don’t want them to hear the awful things my mother is sure to say. Hopefully, it won’t be too bad…
“Thank you,” I say, not sure where to look.
Grason gives me a sweet smile, then he reaches out without a word and grabs Beck’s wrist, tugging the beta toward the door.
“Hey!” Beck starts, startled, then he catches the look on Grason’s face and stops arguing. “Okay, okay.”
Warren follows them out, stopping briefly to look back at me. His expression is so sweet, as if he’s making sure I’m okay. Then he steps out, and the door shuts behind him, leaving the room quiet.
Cass exhales softly, then he lowers himself into the chair behind the desk, careful of his leg. He looks tired now that he’s sitting, the sharp edge from earlier dulled.
I need him.
Without a second thought, I move around the desk, straight to my pack alpha.
He pushes his chair back, already knowing I need to sit in his lap. I pull my legs in and lean against his chest, my forehead resting briefly against his shoulder. His big arms wrap around me, holding me tight against his warm body.