23. Levi
Levi
Aflash of lightning jerks me awake.
I groan and roll onto my back, squinting at the darkness of my apartment while it flashes through the blinds. The power's still out. Not surprising. Half the county's probably running on generators at this point. My phone sits plugged into the battery bank on my nightstand.
I reach for it and immediately regret moving. The phone light is blinding as I hold it to my face.
"Ugh."
I swipe away all the junk email alerts and those dumbass little merge games I don't tell anyone I play, until I come to a text waiting for me.
From Nash.
That alone is enough to make me suspicious.
Nash doesn't text unless something is on fire, someone is dying, or paperwork is involved. And the message was sent an hour ago. I check the time. Good God, it's only seven in the morning.
Nelly must have done something.
Nothing prepares me for what the message is, however, and I let out a laugh at the words on the screen.
Nash: Slept with Nelly last night. She's also slept with Beau. Need some advice. Let me know when you're awake.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I grumble with a smile as the thunder rolls across the mountains outside.
Well, well, well. Seems our little Omega's been busy. Good for her, to be honest. Most Omegas spend half their lives worrying about appearances and expectations and who'll think what about who they sleep with. Nelly's never been particularly interested in what anyone thinks.
It's one of the things I admire about her.
I decide not to keep Nash waiting any longer.
For all I know he's staring at his phone, waiting for me to text back like he stares down his detectives who aren't doing their paperwork correctly.
Levi: Advice? You texted the wrong Alpha. Though thanks for the laugh this morning. Hate being up early.
The reply appears almost immediately.
Oh, he was definitely waiting with his phone in his hand.
Nash: You're awake.
Levi: Unfortunately.
Three dots appear and disappear.
Reappear and disappear again.
I sit up in bed and stretch my arms above my head, groaning at the relief of the cracking that sizzles up my back. But just as I stand to head to my bathroom, my phone vibrates again.
Nash: I'm serious, Levi. This isn't funny.
That only makes me grin wider as I text back.
Levi: And I'm serious, too. You slept with her. Beau slept with her. Nobody died. Sounds like a successful week for an Omega in pre-heat.
A full minute passes before he answers.
Nash: You're not helping.
Levi: To be honest, I don't even see the problem. What's the issue again?
This time his response takes longer.
Nash: I don't know.
A snort follows me into the bathroom. I splash some cold water on my face to help me wake up. There it is. Classic Nash. The man can organize an entire county emergency response operation but ask him how he feels and suddenly he's got the emotional intelligence of a brick.
I get my face washed before I respond.
Levi: When's the last time you got laid?
The typing bubble appears and stops.
Appears and stops.
Appears… and stops.
My head falls back with laughter when his text finally comes soaring through my phone.
Nash: That's not relevant.
Levi: It absolutely is.
I brush my teeth while I wait for his response.
Nash: A while, okay? Damn.
I snicker as I spit the toothpaste out.
Levi: There's your answer, then.
Nash: That's not an answer. That's you enjoying my suffering.
Levi: Since when is getting laid suffering? And yes, it actually is an answer. You've been stressed for days, probably sleeping like shit while being worried about the storm and about Nelly, and now you've got feelings involved. Get out of your own head if it's that much of a problem.
Nash: I don't know what to do. We're both up and about, and I feel like I should say something.
Levi: It's morning time, Nash. You don't have to talk. Make her some food or some shit.
I floss and watch my phone, but not even the three little dots bounce around. Good. That means I hit the target. I quickly use my mouthwash and spit it out before stretching my hands down to my toes in an attempt to unlock the stiffness settling in my bones.
While another flash of lightning illuminates my apartment.
Despite the weather, I find myself smiling. It's a strange sensation, smiling this much when I'm by myself. A week ago, I would've happily spent this storm alone. But now? The idea of spending another day downstairs with everyone doesn't sound too bad.
I used to prioritize being alone. You know, getting back on my feet after my childhood knocked me around.
Focusing on my business. Focusing on building clientele.
But I've been at it for years now, establishing a trustworthy reputation as Honeysuckle Grove's most in-demand tattoo artist. I've got people who travel in from the cities to sit while I mock up designs for them.
I've drummed up enough regular clientele that I've even thought about expanding the shop's offerings by finding a piercer or two.
Now, it feels like being alone is more of a punishment than a necessity.
As I get dressed so I can head back downstairs, I think of Nelly.
The fun she's gotten herself into. The stress I hope it's taken off her shoulders.
I think of Beau and how doting he is with her.
How he feels about her is as obvious as the storm outside.
I think of Nash and how he's finally getting knocked off his carefully constructed pedestal.
I'm anxious to see them again.
There's something about Beau and Nash in all of this that's important.
My phone buzzes again, pulling me out of my head.
It's a picture message from Nash, and a stab of warmth bleeds through my chest when I open it.
There sits Nelly, perched in front of Nash's bedroom window while wrapped in a massive hoodie that clearly belongs to him, judging by the police emblem on the back of it.
Her hair is wild.
Her arms are crossed.
Her expression looks murderous, as if the storm itself has flipped her off.
A text from Nash soars through beneath the picture.
Nash: Made food, but good luck pulling her away from the view of that house. She hisses at me every time I try to distract her.
I abandon putting on my socks in order to type back.
Levi: You mean not even the promise of another knot from you pulls her away?
The response comes so fast I know he didn't even think about it.
Nash: Get over here with the beer and shut it. I've made way too many pancakes for just me and her.
I haven't laughed this much in years.
Levi: Hey, you're the one who wanted to talk. Not my fault you've got shit taste in who to talk to. Coming. Be there in a few.
Truthfully? There isn't anything keeping me from my business. My tattoo shop sits on a small hill, so I know things won't flood. If I can stand the walk in the rain, I could get to my office and get ahead on some paperwork. Do some research on piercers.
But the roads are garbage.
The weather's getting worse.
And Nash's apartment is just downstairs.
I sigh as I head to my kitchen and grab the last of the beers I've got in my fridge. I stuff them into a plastic bag from the grocery store and decide to leave the paperwork for another day. If we're all trapped in this building, I might as well enjoy the company.
I want to see Nelly, anyway.
That realization hits harder than I'd like, and I shove it aside.
One problem at a time.
And Nash already has that covered for the morning.
By the time I make it to the elevator, I've got a plastic grocery bag dangling from my wrist full of beer and my phone in my other hand. I text customers while riding down to Nash's floor:
Levi: Storm's too dangerous. Need to reschedule. I'll reach out once conditions improve.
Levi: Don't drive in any of this. We'll reschedule when the weather lets up.
Levi: Don't bother coming in with this kind of weather. Stay safe and we'll catch up once the rain lifts.
Levi: I'll reach out once conditions clear and we'll get you rescheduled. You'll be the first I call.
Most of my clients understand. The few who give me guff are the first to go on my list to be rescheduled. They can deal with it. The last thing I need is to be responsible for someone getting themselves killed in this weather.
After all, this storm doesn't care about appointment calendars.
Thunder rattles the hallway as I stop in front of Nash's door. I barely get a couple of knocks in before the door swings open.
Only for me to see Beau instead of Nash.
My eyebrows shoot upward. "Well, this just keeps getting better."
Beau rolls his eyes. "Came by to check on Nelly."
I grin. "Uh-huh."
"Seriously, I did."
"No doubt, you did."
He gives me a look as I wink at him and slip past, carrying the plastic bag of beer.
"Thirsty?" I ask as I make my way to the kitchen.
"That Levi?" Nash calls out.
"Yep!" I say as I heft the bag onto the countertop.
"Looks like you brought the brewery," Beau says.
I reach in and crack one open before handing it to him.
He crooks an eyebrow. "It's eight in the morning."
I just shrug. "Suit yourself."
I take a swig of the beer and set it down. Nash still hasn't appeared, and that makes me curious enough to go searching for him. His apartment smells like coffee, blankets, and stress. I follow the acrid scent, and it doesn't take me long to find Nelly still standing at that window in his bedroom.
With Nash perched on his bed, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Looks like a party in here," I say as I lean against the doorway and take another pull of my drink.
The blinds are open and I can see rain pouring down from the sky. Nelly's shoulders are hunched and Nash looks like he went toe-to-toe with a bull and got nothing but the horns.
"What happened?" I ask.
Nash exhales heavily. "The tarp on the roof of the house came off."
My grin disappears. "What?"
"Part of it," Beau clarifies as he slips beside me into the room. "Ford and Knox are out there now trying to secure it again."
"The wind got underneath one side," Nash says.
No wonder Nelly's perched at the window, chewing on one of her fingernails.
"I knew the tarp wouldn't hold," she whispers.
Damn it.
I pass my beer off to Beau and make my way toward Nelly. I stand behind her, my reflection appearing with hers in the window.
"Nels," I murmur.
She doesn't respond, and that worries me.
"Hey," I say as I lift my hands and settle them on her shoulders. "Can you turn and look at me?"
She gives me nothing, though. Just a little sniffle that makes me glance back at Beau. He looks worried, and when I glance at Nash, I find the same expression on his face.
None of this is helping, so I do the only thing I know to do.
I bend to her ear and lower my voice. "You can't torture yourself like this, Omega. We'll figure it out after the storm."
"Levi," she whispers, "I can't just leave her, you know? She's out there all alone, getting battered by a storm. I can't even see Ford and Knox up there. You think they're okay?"
My hands smooth up and down her arms. "Staring won't fix anything. But it will hurt you, and I won't have that. Nash has made pancakes. There's orange juice, water, and beer. Let's get something in your system."
There's a part of me that thinks she's going to ignore me. Or possibly chew me out for even insinuating that I've got the ability to boss her around. But instead, her shoulders slump. The fight drains out of her, and out comes that one beautiful little word.
"Okay."
I nod as I steer her away from the window. "Okay. Nash?"
He's up in a flash. "On it. Pancakes with extra butter and syrup, coming right up."
Beau hands my beer back to me, but Nelly plucks it out of my hand and chugs it.
"'Atta girl," I murmur as I walk her out of Nash's bedroom.
For once, we get no stubbornness from Nelly. No fight, no cussing, and no bullshit reasoning as to why she should continue standing there. She moves with me until I lower her back into her nest on Nash's couch, and Beau is immediately beside her.
"Want some cuddles?" he asks.
"Please," she whimpers.
I'm not sure if I like her without the fight, though.
She curls into Beau before digging her lower body down into the mound of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals that have accumulated since the last time I was in here.
Practically half of Nash's living room is on that damn couch.
Watching her tuck against Beau while clutching that little teddy bear strikes straight to my heart.
Poor thing.
She's much too stressed for an Omega knee-deep in pre-heat.
Nash brings her the pancakes and I crack open another beer for her.
By the time Nash is done divvying out breakfast, we've all got beers in our hands and pancakes swimming in condiments.
For a little while, we all eat in silence, and I watch while Beau feeds Nelly bites every once in a while when she stops cutting into her pancakes and starts staring off.
"Nels," I say softly.
She turns those tired eyes to me. "Yeah?"
"How long does your pre-heat usually last?"
"Levi," Nash warns.
I just stick with it, though. We have to know.
I have to know.
She sighs and shrugs. "It depends, really. Sometimes my heat crashes into me immediately. Sometimes my pre-heat can last up to a couple of weeks. Just depends on stress levels and a bunch of other things."
I do the calculations in my head. If nothing else, she's got about another week and a half until she has to deal with it properly.
Maybe the storm will have let up by then.
Because if I'm trapped with her and how good she smells now, even in her stress, I'm not sure what kind of restraint I'm going to have when the sweet smell of her heat drips over her body.
"What's that, Beau?" Nash asks.
His question pulls me out of my head, and I find Beau holding a deck of cards in his hand.
"Where the hell did you get those?" I ask as a smile spreads across my face.
Beau wiggles the deck between his fingers. "Anyone up for some poker?"
Oh, hell yeah.
Anything to distract me from how good Nelly smells beneath the acidity of her stress.