Chapter 26 Carlos
CARLOS
Nacho: Callum showed up at the grocery store. Confronted Jessica. I intervened. She's shaken but safe. Taking her home now.
My hands stop moving. The nail gun goes silent.
Mrs. Patterson, hovering three feet away like she always does when I'm working, leans in to look at my phone.
"Is everything alright, dear?"
I pocket the phone and force a smile. "Family emergency. I need to head out."
"Oh no! Nothing serious, I hope?"
"I can handle it." I start packing up my tools, movements quick and efficient. Years of carpentry mean I can break down a job site in under five minutes. "I'll be back tomorrow to finish up."
"Of course." She's already pulling out her own phone. I can see the gears turning behind her eyes. Family emergency. Negrorio boy. Middle of the day.
By the time I'm loading my truck, she'll have called half the town.
I don't care.
I throw my tools in the bed faster than I probably should, not bothering to organize them the way I usually do. The nail gun goes in sideways. The miter saw is at an angle that'll probably scratch the bed liner. I'll fix it later.
Right now, I need to get home.
The drive from the Patterson house to ours takes eight minutes. I make it in five, pushing the speed limit in ways that would get me a ticket if Nacho wasn't otherwise occupied.
My phone buzzes three more times before I pull into the driveway.
Sergio: On my way home. ETA 20 minutes.
Pedro: Closing the clinic early. Be there by 3:30.
Nacho: She's in her nest. Pretty shaken up. Callum's been texting me. Not good.
I check the time. 3:15 PM.
The house is quiet when I walk in. Too quiet. I can hear the old furnace kicking on in the basement, the creak of floorboards upstairs, but no voices. No movement.
"Jess?" I call out.
No answer.
I take the stairs two at a time, sawdust still clinging to my jeans and flannel, and head straight for the guest room.
The door is cracked open. I knock anyway.
"Sunshine? You in there?"
A small sound. Not quite a word. More like a whimper.
I push the door open slowly.
Jessica is in the middle of her nest, surrounded by blankets and pillows and every soft thing we own.
She's wearing my henley again, the grey one she borrowed the night the pipes burst, and she's got her knees pulled up to her chest. Her face is buried in one of Sergio's old hockey jerseys, breathing in his scent like it's oxygen.
She looks up when I enter. Her eyes are red and swollen. Mascara tracks down her cheeks.
"He called me nothing." Her voice is raw. Broken. "In front of everyone. He said I was nothing."
The rage that hits me is so intense I have to grab the doorframe to steady myself.
"He's wrong."
"Is he?" She wipes her face with the sleeve of my henley. "Because right now, sitting in a nest made of stolen clothes, crying over my ex-boyfriend who thinks he owns me, I'm feeling pretty damn close to nothing."
I step into the room and sink down onto the edge of her nest. The blankets are soft under me, worn from washing, smelling like all four of us mixed together. It's intimate in a way that makes my chest tight.
"You know what I think?" I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I think Callum's terrified."
She blinks at me. "Terrified?"
"Yeah. Terrified. Because for two years, he had you convinced you needed him.
That you couldn't survive without him. That you were small and weak and nothing.
" I let my fingers trail down her jaw. "And then you climbed out a window in a wedding dress and proved him wrong.
You survived. You're thriving. And it's killing him. "
"I'm not thriving. I'm a disaster."
"You're my favorite disaster." I grin at her, trying to coax even a hint of a smile. "Remember that fire you started at the Miller job site? When you were helping me stain the deck?"
"I don't want to talk about the fire."
"It was barely a fire. More like an enthusiastic flame."
"I knocked over the mineral spirits and they landed on your heat gun."
"Which was entirely my fault for leaving the heat gun on." I bump her shoulder with mine. "But you grabbed the fire extinguisher so fast. Didn't even hesitate. Just put it out like a boss."
"And then I covered Mr. Miller's entire porch in fire extinguisher foam."
"Which he thought was hilarious once we explained you'd just saved his house from burning down." I lean in closer. "You're not nothing, Jess. You're chaos and cookies and the reason I look forward to going to work now. You make everything better. Even the disasters."
She's quiet for a long moment. Then she turns to look at me, and there's something vulnerable in her eyes that makes my breath catch.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
"Because you're pack." The words come out before I can think better of them.
Her breath hitches. "Carlos..."
"I'm not asking for anything." I pull back, giving her space. "I just need you to know that Callum's full of shit. You're not nothing. You never were."
My phone buzzes. I pull it out and check the screen.
Sergio: Home in 5. Is she okay?
I text back: Shaken but whole. She's in her nest.
Nacho: Good. Keep her there. Callum's been texting me.
That gets my attention. I text back: What's he saying?
Nacho: Nothing good. I'll fill you in at the meeting.
I shove the phone back in my pocket and look at Jessica. She's watching me with those big hazel eyes, reading my expression.
"He's not giving up, is he?" Her voice is small. Scared.
"Nope." I don't lie to her. Can't. She deserves better than that. "But neither are we."
She pulls her knees tighter to her chest. "Why would you risk your friendship with him for me?"
I could give her a dozen reasons. Could talk about right and wrong, about loyalty, about doing the decent thing.
But she asked why, and she deserves the truth.
"Because I'm in love with you." The words come out easier than I expected.
Simple. True. "Have been since the first time Callum brought you home and you laughed at my stupid joke about two-by-fours.
If I have to choose between years of friendship with a guy who treats people like property and one woman who makes me want to be better than I am, that's not really a choice at all. "
She stares at me. Mouth slightly open. Eyes wide.
"You're in love with me."
"Yeah." I run my hand through my hair, dislodging sawdust. "Surprise."
"But I'm a disaster. You just said so."
"I said you're my favorite disaster. There's a difference." I reach out and brush a tear from her cheek. "And I'm not the only one, by the way. In case you haven't noticed, all four of us are pretty much gone for you."
"That's insane."
"That's pack." I shrug. "We don't do anything halfway."
She opens her mouth to respond, then closes it. Her fingers twist in the fabric of Sergio's jersey, knuckles white with tension. The silence stretches between us, heavy with everything unsaid.
"I should leave," she finally whispers. "If I go, he'll follow me. You'll all be safe."
"Absolutely not." I shift closer, my knee pressing against her thigh through the layers of blankets. "You're not using yourself as bait, sunshine. That's not how this works."
"But he's your friend. Was your friend." Her voice cracks. "All of you have known him since you were kids. I can't be the reason you lose that. I can't be the reason your friendship ends."
"Callum ended the friendship the moment he put his hands on you." I cup her face in my palms, forcing her to meet my eyes. "The moment he tried to make you small so he could feel big. That's not friendship. That's control. And I'm done letting him control anything."
"Carlos..."
"I mean it." I lean my forehead against hers, breathing her in.
Vanilla and honey mixed with the sharp bite of fear.
"I love you. I've loved you since the first time you reorganized my tool shed and labeled everything with that label maker you bought at the hardware store.
Since you stayed three hours past when you should have left to help me finish the Miller deck.
Since you made me three dozen cookies to apologize for ruining my oven mitts even though I told you it wasn't necessary. "
She laughs. Watery and broken but real. "I still feel bad about the oven mitts."
"Best hundred dollars I ever spent on replacements.
" I grin at her, trying to coax more of that smile.
"You're not nothing, Jess. You're everything.
And if choosing between years of friendship with a man who treats people like property and one woman who makes me want to be better than I am is supposed to be a hard choice, then he never knew me at all. "
She stares at me. Her lips part but no sound comes out. Her hands are still twisted in the jersey, still holding on like she's afraid to let go.
"You mean that," she finally manages.
"Every word."
Her hands release the jersey. Slowly. Like she's testing whether she's allowed. They come up to cover mine where they rest against her cheeks. Her fingers are cold, trembling against my skin.
"What if I'm not worth it?" The words are barely audible. "What if Callum's right? What if I'm just some mediocre omega who got lucky?"
"Then he's blind." I kiss her forehead. Then her nose.
Then the corner of her mouth. Soft touches meant to soothe, not seduce.
"You're the woman who reorganized our entire evidence room in three days.
Who remembers every name of every kid on Sergio's team.
Who helped Mrs. Patterson pick paint colors for four hours and never once complained.
You're extraordinary. Not mediocre. Not lucky. Extraordinary."
She makes a sound. Half laugh, half sob. Then she kisses me.
It's desperate, her lips crashing against mine with enough force that our teeth click together. Her hands fist in my hair, pulling me closer, and I go willingly. Open my mouth and let her in. Let her take what she needs.