Chapter 12
jude
Morning practice should be illegal after a private practice.
That’s my first thought when Nelson drops a kickboard on the deck beside my foot and I nearly consider murder before breakfast. My second thought is that Hollis is still in the water, which is worse because he already swam with me before the rest of the team arrived.
Bishop called it a warm-up. Hollis called it bonding.
I called it a terrible idea and then did the set anyway because apparently I’m a man of weak principles when someone puts water in front of me and tells me not to race it.
By the time regular practice ends, my shoulders are burning and Hollis looks like someone wrung him out by hand. He’s hanging on the wall in lane four with his cap shoved up, hair dripping into his eyes, and a grin that keeps trying to prove he’s fine.
“You look like boiled lettuce,” I tell Hollis.
Hollis lifts one wet hand from the gutter and lets it flop back down. “Sexy boiled lettuce?”
“Do not make me regret my sympathy for you.”
Bishop crouches near the wall and catches Hollis by the chin before he can sink lower. “You did two practices, baby. You’re done.” His eyes flick to me before I can hide the way I’m leaning against the timing chair. “So are you.”
“I’m standing.”
“Poorly.”
Nelson chooses that moment to drift too close, towel around his shoulders and mouth already forming the shape of a mistake. “So are you three dating now, or is this just a very intense swim rehabilitation program?”
I stare at him. “Nelson, I know where the spare resistance bands are, and I can make your next dryland session biblical.”
He retreats, but not before grinning at Hollis like he’s proud of himself. Hollis looks absurdly pleased, which almost makes me want to shove him back into the pool.
Reece is by the benches with Tate, slow to gather his bag. He hasn’t said much since I started getting back in the water, which would be more comforting if silence didn’t look so smug on him. His gaze moves from Hollis to Bishop, then lands on me. “Guess everyone loves a comeback story.”
The deck goes quieter than it should, though I’m not backing down for that guy. “Do you need me to sign something for you, Reece? You’re watching hard enough.”
His mouth tightens. “I’m saying don’t embarrass yourself.”
“Too late. I’ve been talking to you for almost a minute.”
Someone snorts near the locker room. Reece’s eyes flick toward the sound, and the second he looks away first, the tightness in my chest loosens. Bishop’s hand settles at the back of my neck, light but there, and Hollis' purr rumbles from the pool before he seems to realize he’s doing it.
Marsh opens his office door. “Reece. Locker room.”
Reece leaves with Tate behind him, neither of them looking back. Then I turn my attention to Bishop and Hollis, trying to figure out what’s next. Bishop offers me a small smile. “I need to get food into both of you and I can not carry either of you if you end up passing out.”
I sigh, knowing I’ll probably regret offering. “My dorm’s just across the way...” I trail off, not trying to make a big deal about it.
Hollis leans into him, wet and heavy and still trying to smile at me. “I vote the diner for breakfast.”
“You don’t get a vote. You look like a Victorian child with a tragic cough.”
“That sounds delicate. I’ve always wanted to be delicate.”
Bishop gives him a look. “You’re six-five.”
“Emotionally delicate,” Hollis says, and because he looks like he might actually fall over, I grab my hoodie and lead them out before I can think too hard about what it means to take them to my room.
My dorm looks smaller with Bishop and Hollis in it.
That’s the first problem. The second problem is the nest in the corner, which I remember one second too late.
Blankets, hoodies, one good pillow, and an ugly heavy throw I keep because pressure helps when scent doesn’t.
Other Omegas probably have nests that smell like mates or pack or whatever home is supposed to be.
Mine is texture and weight and things arranged exactly where my body expects them.
Nobody has seen it before, well not since my roommate moved out.
I stop in the doorway hard enough that Hollis almost bumps into me. Bishop stays behind him, one hand braced at his waist, and waits. Hollis, exhausted and apparently determined to die charming, peers over my shoulder. “I promise not to shed chlorine on anything sacred.”
“That depends. Are you capable of not dripping on every surface you encounter?”
He shakes his head as Bishop’s mouth curves. “We can leave.”
The offer makes the room tilt in a different way. It would be easier if he pushed. If Hollis looked needy, or Bishop looked expectant, or either of them made me feel cornered. Instead, they stand there giving me the exit while Hollis sways slightly on his feet.
I sigh and step inside. “Get in before the delicate Victorian collapses.”
The first few minutes are awkward because there are too many limbs and not enough rules.
I order breakfast from the diner mostly to give myself something to do.
Bishop takes the phone after I glare at the menu for too long and asks what I want without looking away from my face.
“Pancakes,” I say, then regret existing when Hollis makes a tiny pleased sound from the nest.
Bishop adds eggs and coffee without asking before looking at the nest, then at at Hollis, and says, “Down, baby. Before you fall down.”
Hollis lowers himself carefully into the blankets, all giant limbs and wet hair, then freezes like he’s not sure he’s allowed to relax. I stand over him with my arms crossed. “You can lean back. The blankets have survived worse.”
“What’s worse than me?”
“Nelson borrowed one during a bus trip.”
Hollis gasps. “I’m honored.”
Bishop sits near the edge first, giving me room to decide.
That helps and irritates me at the same time.
I end up sitting because standing over them makes it weirder, and once I’m down, Hollis’ purr starts in low, uneven bursts.
My body turns toward it before I decide to.
Bishop sees it and only shifts enough that I can still see his face.
I curl against Hollis’ side with as much dignity as a person can have while crawling into his own nest with two men and diner pancakes on the way. His arm stays where it is until I tug it over my waist. “You can. Just don’t get smug about it.”
Hollis' breath catches. “I’m not smug.”
“You’re purring like a lawn mower.”
Bishop settles behind me, his chest near my back but not pressed there until I lean. “Tell us where you want us.”
I look down at Hollis' arm over me, Bishop’s hand resting open near my knee, the blankets bunched under my legs. “I don’t know.”
“Then start with what helps,” Bishop says.
I pause and then flop around until my back is against Hollis’ chest, my face pressed into Bishop’s chest where I can easily look up at him. “Like this, I think.” I snuggle closer before settling. “Just like this.”
A week ago, I would have balked at the idea of being with two men in my nest. I would have hated them pressed up against me, wondering when they wanted sex or when they’d be done with me. Now, I’m just hoping they don’t move.
Breakfast arrives twenty minutes later, and we eat in the nest with takeout containers balanced on blankets. Hollis gets syrup on his thumb and tries to hide it. Bishop catches him. I catch Bishop smiling. Nobody comments on the fact that my nest has become warm in a way it never has been before.
By the time they leave for afternoon classes, Hollis has napped for nine minutes with his cheek pressed to one of my hoodies, Bishop has folded the empty containers into a neat stack, and I’ve apologized three separate times for making the morning weird.
The third time, Bishop stops at the door and looks at me fully. “Jude. You wanted us here. We liked being here.”
Hollis, still half-asleep, adds, “A lot.”
My face burns. “Go to class.”
I text first after my afternoon lecture, which feels like stepping off a block all over again.
Me: Is the Victorian alive?
Hollis responds with a selfie from what looks like the dining hall, one thumb up, eyes half-closed over a water bottle.
Hollis: surviving bravely
Bishop: He ate two sandwiches and fell asleep for six minutes over his notebook.
Hollis: betrayal
I stare at the thread too long, smiling down at my phone in the middle of the walkway like an idiot.
Then I see Bishop in the courtyard, sitting against a low stone wall with a laptop open on his knees and sunglasses pushed up into his hair.
He looks up before I say anything. “Stalking me?” he asks.
“I live here.”
“Convenient defense.”
I sit beside him, leaving a careful inch between us. Bishop doesn’t close the laptop, but he turns his body enough that I can see his face. That simple adjustment still gets under my skin. “How was class?”
“Calc 3 is a snooze fest but I have a B so at least I’ll pass.”
Bishop smiles, and the inch between us starts feeling stupid.
I move closer. He notices but he keeps talking about practice, about my time off the wall, about the next meet cycle like my name belongs in future tense.
I end up with my shoulder against his. Then my knee.
Then somehow, without either of us making a production out of it, I’m half in his lap with his arm around my waist and my face tucked against his neck.
Bishop’s fingers move to the back of my neck, and I tilt into it before pride can stop me. “The nest was better with you there,” I say against his collar.
He goes still for half a breath. “Yeah?” He turns his face toward me, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath, and waits until I close the distance between us and kiss him.
His hand stays at my waist, the other at the back of my neck, holding without taking.
The courtyard noise fades into distance, and for once I don’t care who sees.
I only care that Bishop’s mouth is warm, that his thumb moves once against my skin, and that he doesn’t chase me when I pull back to breathe.
Hollis makes a wounded sound somewhere to my left. “I suffered through double practice and returned to lap theft?”
I jerk back so fast Bishop has to tighten his arm to keep me from sliding off his legs. Hollis stands at the edge of the courtyard with his backpack over one shoulder, looking delighted and betrayed and exhausted all at once.
“I heard you were asleep in the dining hall,” I say.
“That was only for a little while I survived. Barely.” Hollis drops onto the grass in front of us and holds out both hands. “Come here, lap thief.”
I look at Bishop. He only lifts his brow like the decision is mine. I slide off him and let Hollis pull me down carefully, the Alpha starting purring before I settle, the sound rushing up like he’s been holding it in since he saw us.
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, but I’m already leaning into him.
“Deeply.”
His grin fades a little when I turn toward him. The purr keeps going, stronger now, vibrating through my ribs where his arm wraps around me. Hollis watches my mouth. “Can I?”
A smile creeps onto my face as I cup his cheek before pulling him down to meet me. Hollis goes still for one stunned second, then melts so hard I almost laugh into his mouth. His hand spreads carefully across my back, his purr breaking around the kiss.
When I pull back, Hollis looks wrecked.
I rest my forehead against his. “Don’t be weird.”
His purr jumps. “Too late.”
Bishop laughs, and I turn enough to catch his smile before Hollis kisses me again.