Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
ASH
Liam slides a pill bottle across the counter to Beckett. It skitters to a stop against his palm. He pops the top, rattles out two, and tosses them back with a shrug.
“Does your head still hurt?” I ask as Beckett puts his hand on my hip and moves me out of the way so he can get to the sink. Tingles spark across my back at the casual touch.
“Nah, I’m all good. It’s part of the protocol.”
Liam side-eyes him hard, so that’s probably a lie.
Maybe he’s just being all alpha-y for me.
I grab a lemon from the basket on the counter and hold it to my nose.
The citrus clears my head. This house smells stupidly good.
The two alphas move around the kitchen getting all the things ready for dinner, but it’s Liam who is obviously in charge.
“I should be helping,” I mutter, trying to stay out of the way.
“We got it under control, I think,” Beckett says, setting a glass of water onto the counter beside me before brushing my back again. This second touch is even worse, like electricity crackling down my legs.
“Isn’t this supposed to be an omega’s job?”
“Only if you want to.” Beckett’s face does that weird half-frown, half-grin thing; I don’t know if he’s hiding the frown or hiding the grin. “I tend to stay out of Liam’s way in the kitchen.”
“That’s only because you’re a total menace, and you’d eat raw meat if we let you,” Liam says, shouldering past me to rinse the produce. He doesn’t touch me on purpose the way Beckett does, but his elbow grazes mine, and my whole body lights up like I’ve been shocked.
“Here.” Liam slides a cutting board in front of me. “Can you handle carrots?”
I eye the carrots suspiciously. “I’m a terrible omega. I can’t really cook.”
Liam and Beckett trade a glance, and the beat of silence gets uncomfortable. I grab a carrot and whack at it with a big knife. I manage to chop off the tip, but it jumps and rolls down the counter.
“Okay. Knife skills lesson!” Liam declares with a chuckle in his voice. “Beckett nearly chopped his pinky off a few years ago.”
Beckett holds up his finger as proof. “Eight stitches. It was off-season, but the team doc was pissed. My fingers are literally insured.”
“You want to pinch the blade where it meets the handle.” Liam demonstrates, thumb and forefinger on the blade. “And then wrap your other fingers around the handle. Nope. Like this.”
He slides behind me and wraps his hand around mine on the knife, putting my fingers in the right places. His scent tickles my nose and puts all those flutters in my tummy.
“You want to tuck your fingertips under when you hold the carrot.” His other arm comes around me.
All I can smell is him, and all I can feel is the heat from his body. I’m instantly wet with slick. His fingers trail down the back of my hand as he steps back. I put all my thoughts into the carrots so I don’t have to think about the mortifying possibility of slick running down my legs.
Liam tears through peppers, onions, and lettuce by the time I have a tiny pile of carrot slices. Beckett stretches an arm out and steals one, popping it into his mouth.
“Hey! I’m working on those!” I swat his hand away.
He just grins and steals another, then his eyes shoot to the front of the house. A grin flashes across his face that he quickly hides.
“Pierce is home,” Liam says quietly, not looking up from his cutting board.
My knife stops mid-chop, and I forget how to breathe. I didn’t even hear the door, but there he is filling the doorframe.
Pierce is bigger than I remember, which is stupid.
He was taller than Reed, he could easily reach the shelf above the fridge.
He was towering when I was twelve. I’ve gotten bigger.
I’m all grown up and he still seems huge.
He unzips his puffy jacket and lets gravity pull it off his broad shoulders.
His hair is shorter, the sides tight to the side of his head.
There are purple and black smudges under both of his eyes with a strip of white tape across the bridge of his nose.
I blink rapidly to get rid of an image of the three of them, Reed, Pierce, and Liam, battered and bruised at the laundromat, trying to fold a fitted sheet.
They were joking and cursing about a bar fight the night before.
They sat me on the counter and handed me socks to match.
That had always been my job. The scent of warm laundry, cozy and safe, was so thick I could taste it.
He freezes.
I grip the counter because the moment he steps into the kitchen my balance goes weird, like my feet forgot what they were doing.
It’s a single, stupid lurch forward, before I yank myself back behind the island so fast my shoes squeak on the tile.
The shock of it hits me hard. I haven’t seen Pierce since he was covered in Reed’s blood.
I take sips of air and hold on to the counter like it's the only thing keeping me from launching myself at him to… tear his clothes off.
No.
I blink rapidly and swallow hard. I remind myself that the last time I saw him he was covered in Reed’s blood. I might have had a little girl crush on him once. Now he’s so… Ash, don’t be that pathetic omega who’s pussy gets wet just because an alpha walks into the room. He. Killed. Reed.
Pierce’s gaze flicks down my body, quick and almost involuntary, like he feels the same wrong pull I do and doesn’t want to.
“Didn’t know we had company,” he says. His voice is rough as it ripples across my skin.
Beckett saddles up to him to pinch his chin to get a good look at the black eyes. Pierce doesn’t shift his gaze.
“This is Ash,” Beckett says as he throws an arm over Pierce’s shoulder. “Marilyn set us up.”
Liam hasn’t moved an inch, but he’s reading Pierce like an open book. He always knew Pierce’s moods, Reed’s too, with a single glance.
“I’m going to put the steaks on the grill,” Liam says, pulling the platter of butcher paper packages towards him.
“I’ll help!” I squeak, grabbing a set of tongs and practically throwing myself out the sliding glass door.