Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
HOLLY
I push open the heavy front door of Kai’s house, exhausted from a shift that felt twice as long as usual. My shoulders ache from tension, and my mind buzzes with too many thoughts. The house is quiet as I step inside, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the entryway.
Noah’s scent is faint, which means he hasn’t been back here all day.
It’s been over twenty-four hours since I’ve seen him. His day off coincided with my early shift, creating a perfect storm of avoidance that I’m not entirely sure is accidental. The bond between us pulses like a bruise—present but distant, as if he’s deliberately keeping himself closed off from me.
What the fuck have I done?
During my lunch break, I hid in the clinic’s small library, using the ancient desktop computer to research cases of accidental bonds.
I scrolled through medical journals, forum posts, and legal precedents, searching for stories like mine—omegas who bonded with alphas unintentionally, pairs who chose to live separate lives despite their connection.
The results weren’t encouraging.
Bond severance is theoretically possible but dangerous, with high rates of depression, immune system collapse, and even suicide among those who attempt it. Most accidental bonds eventually result in formal mating or, at minimum, regular contact to maintain hormonal balance.
And that’s for normal bonds. One-sided bonds like mine with Noah are even rarer, with even fewer successful separation cases. The omega—me—experiences the full force of the connection while the alpha feels a weaker pull, more like a persistent awareness than a biological necessity.
This is permanent. And it’s my fault.
I trudge up the stairs, heading for my room to change out of my scrubs, when a movement catches my eye. Kai emerges from the heat suite, arms loaded with blankets, pillows, and what appears to be a string of fairy lights.
“Hey there, Hollipop!” His face brightens when he sees me. “Perfect timing. Grab that duvet, will you?”
I stare at him, trying to process the request through my mental fog. “What are you doing? And also, Hollipop?”
“Dinner prep. We’re eating in the den tonight.” He nods toward a pile of bedding spilling out of the doorway. “And I’m trying to come up with a good nickname. The only other thing I could think of was Hollandaise or Holly-lulah.”
“Yeah, both of those are terrible. And you might not know this, but nicknames are supposed to be shorter than actual names.” I pick up the duvet automatically, the soft fabric comforting against my skin. “Why aren’t we eating in the dining room?”
Kai just winks, already heading down the hallway with his armload of nesting materials. “Trust me. You’ll like this better.”
Curious despite my melancholy, I follow him through the house, the duvet trailing behind me like a bridal train.
We pass the formal dining room, continue beyond the kitchen, and finally arrive at what Kai calls his den—a cozy room with a massive television and comfortable seating that I’ve only glanced into before.
Except it doesn’t look like an alpha’s den anymore.
Grayson stands in the center of the transformed space, adjusting what can only be described as the world’s most elaborate pillow fort.
The furniture has been rearranged to create a framework draped with sheets, blankets, and the fairy lights Kai was carrying.
Inside, I can see more pillows than any household reasonably needs, arranged in a nest-like configuration facing the television.
The coffee table has been moved to the center of this fabric structure, laden with food that makes my stomach growl instantly: artisanal pizzas with bubbling cheese, golden-brown panko chicken nuggets, and an array of dipping sauces in small bowls.
A bottle of wine sits in an ice bucket alongside craft beers and what looks like homemade milkshakes in tall glasses.
It’s a sleepover. A grown-up, elevated sleepover.
“What is all this?” I ask, standing frozen in the doorway.
Grayson turns, his eyes crinkling above his ever-present bandana in what I’ve come to recognize is a smile. “Dinner.”
“We thought you could use a break from...” Kai waves his hand vaguely, “...everything.”
My chest tightens with an emotion I can’t immediately identify. “Is Noah joining us?”
The two alphas exchange a glance that answers my question before Kai answers.
“He left early this morning,” Kai says carefully. “I wouldn’t count on him coming back until late tonight.”
The news shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Noah is avoiding me—avoiding us—and I can’t blame him. I forced a bond on him that he never asked for, never wanted. Of course, he needs space.
“Oh,” I say, the syllable small and inadequate.
“His loss,” Kai declares, taking the duvet from my hands and adding it to the fort. “More food for us.”
I look between them—Kai with his easy smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, Grayson silently adjusting pillows with military precision—and suddenly understand what’s happening.
They’re trying to cheer me up. They’ve noticed my mood, my withdrawal, and instead of demanding explanations or offering empty reassurances, they’ve built me a literal comfort nest.
Something warm unfurls in my chest, pushing back against the cold weight of guilt and uncertainty.
“Did you guys really do all of this just for me?” I ask, stepping further into the room.
“Everybody likes a blanket fort,” Grayson says, his deep voice rumbling through the space. “And Kai stress cooks.”
“I do not stress-cook,” Kai protests. “I just happen to enjoy culinary creativity when faced with complex emotional situations.”
“Stress-cooking,” Grayson repeats, deadpan.
A laugh bubbles up from somewhere inside me, surprising in its genuineness. “So we’re just going to eat junk food in a pillow fort?”
“Not just eat,” Kai corrects, producing a remote with a flourish. “We’re going to watch the entire original trilogy of Star Wars and fall asleep in a pile like puppies. Unless you’d prefer something else?”
I think about my plans for the evening—more research on bond severance, followed by staring at the ceiling while cataloging all of my life choices that led to this moment. This is objectively better.
“Star Wars is perfect,” I say, and mean it.
“Excellent.” Kai gestures toward the fort entrance. “Your palace awaits, m’lady.”
I duck into the structure, settling into the nest of pillows.
The fairy lights cast a warm, golden glow over everything, and the sheets overhead create a sense of intimacy and safety that I didn’t realize I needed.
Grayson follows, his large frame somehow fitting comfortably in the space, while Kai serves food onto plates before joining us.
“Should we talk about it?” I ask suddenly, the question escaping before I can stop it.
Kai pauses, a slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. “Talk about what, specifically? There’s a lot of it going around lately.”
“About...” I gesture vaguely between us, “...this situation. Noah. The bond. The fact that he is obviously avoiding being anywhere near me. What it all means for the future?”
Kai considers this, then sets his pizza down. “We could do that. We could have a very serious, very adult conversation about what it means that you one-way bonded to Noah and what that means for all of us.”
He looks at me seriously, then breaks into a grin.
“Or,” he continues, “we could curl up, stuff our faces with my incredible food, and watch Luke Skywalker whine about power converters. Your call, Hollyberry.”
The choice is easy. “Pass the chicken nuggets, please.”
“Wise decision.” Kai hands me a plate. “The sauce with the green flecks is avocado-lime ranch. The red one is sriracha honey. And the yellow one is a dijon mustard aioli that will change your life.”
I dip a nugget in the yellow sauce and take a bite, closing my eyes as flavors explode across my tongue. “Oh my god…”
“Told you,” Kai says smugly, pressing play on the remote.
As the iconic Star Wars theme fills the room, I feel myself relaxing for the first time in days. The food is incredible, the fort is cozy, and the company—despite being two alphas I barely know but somehow now live with—is surprisingly comfortable.
Halfway through the movie, Kai refills our drinks while Grayson adjusts the pillows.
I notice for the first time that Grayson is shirtless, wearing only loose sweatpants that hang low on his hips.
His chest and arms are a map of muscle and scars, telling stories of battles I can only imagine.
Despite the bandanna still covering the lower half of his face, there’s something vulnerable about seeing him this way.
“Do you ever take that off?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can consider its appropriateness.
Grayson’s eyes find mine, unreadable in the dim light. “Never.”
The wine has loosened my tongue, making me bolder than usual. “Not even to shower?”
A glint appears in his eyes—amusement and challenge. “Easy way to find out.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I look away quickly, focusing intently on the movie.
But my awareness of Grayson’s proximity has sharpened, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.
I’m suddenly conscious of the low buzz of arousal that’s been humming through me since I entered the fort—a sensation I’d attributed to lingering effects of my heat.
Now I’m not so sure.
Maybe it’s just the natural response to being in close quarters with two very attractive alphas.
Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s the comfort of a room literally covered in nesting materials they’ve created for me.
Whatever the cause, I feel my body responding—my pulse quickening, a warmth pooling low in my belly, and the unmistakable flood of slick dampening my underwear.