Chapter 28 Jessica
JESSICA
The doorbell rings at seven on a Friday, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
I'm curled up on the Negrorio couch, wrapped in a blanket that smells like cedar and sage, watching the fire crackle in the stone hearth.
The living room is warm and golden, lit by table lamps with amber shades that cast everything in soft shadows.
Bookshelves line the walls, stuffed with paperbacks and photo albums and the kind of accumulated clutter that comes from a family living in the same house for generations.
My arm still aches where Callum grabbed me three days ago. The bruise has faded from purple to yellow-green, an ugly splotch that Pedro checks twice daily and Carlos glares at like he can heal it through sheer force of rage.
The confrontation at the grocery store feels like a fever dream. Did I really knee my ex-fiancé in the balls? Did I really tell him exactly what kind of manipulative asshole he is? Did the Negrorio brothers really choose me over years of friendship?
Yes. To all of it.
And I'm still trying to figure out how to feel about that.
The doorbell rings again, followed by aggressive knocking.
"I'll get it." Nacho unfolds himself from the armchair by the window, where he's been pretending to read a case file while watching me for the past hour.
He's still in his uniform from work, dark fabric stretched across shoulders that could block out the sun.
His boots thud against the hardwood as he crosses to the front door.
I hear the lock click. The door creak open.
Then a shriek that could shatter glass.
"Jessica!"
I'm on my feet before I realize I've moved.
Stacey bursts through the front door like a glitter bomb in human form.
She's wearing a hot pink tracksuit, gold hoop earrings the size of my fist, and platform sneakers that add four inches to her already considerable height.
Her braids are piled on top of her head in a gravity-defying bun, and her nails are painted electric blue with tiny rhinestones.
She spots me across the living room and charges.
"You absolute disaster of a human being." Stacey crashes into me with the force of a small hurricane, wrapping me in arms that smell like coconut oil and expensive perfume. "I had to hear from Melissa that you're shacking up with four alphas in the middle of nowhere and I am personally offended."
"Of course Melissa." I pull back slightly, something bitter twisting in my chest. "She was sleeping with Callum."
"She still is." Stacey's expression hardens. "I have never liked Melissa."
"I texted you."
"A text is not a phone call, Jessica." She pulls back to grip my shoulders, dark eyes scanning my face like she's cataloging every change. "Let me look at you. Are you okay? Are you eating? Why do you smell like a pine forest had a baby with a bakery?"
"That's a lot of questions."
"I have more." Her gaze drops to my arm, to the fading bruise peeking out from under my sleeve. "What the hell is that?"
"Long story."
"I have time." Her voice goes sharp. "I have all the time in the world. Who touched you? Give me a name. I will end them."
"Already handled." Nacho closes the front door and leans against it, arms crossed over his chest. "The situation has been dealt with."
I watch Stacey’s eyes travel from his boots to his badge to his face, and her eyebrows climb toward her hairline.
"Sheriff Hottie. I'm assuming you're one of the four."
"Nacho." He inclines his head. "You must be Stacey."
"The one and only." She releases my shoulders and props her hands on her hips. "Jessica's told me nothing about you, which is rude, but I'm willing to forgive her if you tell me there's wine in this house."
"Kitchen. Third cabinet on the left."
"I like him." Stacey points at Nacho. "He's efficient."
Movement on the porch catches my attention. Another figure hovers in the doorway, slim and hesitant, wrapped in an oversized grey sweater and sunglasses even though it's nighttime.
"Harmony?" I step around Stacey to get a better look. "What are you doing here?"
Harmony Blake pushes her sunglasses up onto her head, revealing wide hazel eyes rimmed with dark circles. Her strawberry blonde hair is tucked under a baseball cap, and she's wearing leggings and sneakers that look nothing like her usual designer wardrobe.
"Stacey kidnapped me." Harmony's voice is soft, barely above a whisper. "Said I needed to get out of the city."
"You did need to get out of the city." Stacey grabs my arm and tugs me toward the kitchen. "Three paparazzi camped outside her apartment. Three. They're like cockroaches. You think you've gotten rid of them and then they multiply."
"I'm fine." Harmony follows us through the house, her eyes darting around the living room like she's cataloging escape routes. "I just needed a break from the constant surveillance."
"You needed to remember what normal people's problems look like." Stacey pushes through the swinging door into the kitchen and immediately starts opening cabinets. "And Jessica's problems are magnificently abnormal. Four alphas. Four. I still can't believe it."
The kitchen is warm and bright, copper pots hanging from a rack above the island, herbs growing in little pots on the windowsill. Carlos looks up from the stove, where he's been making some kind of pasta sauce that fills the room with the smell of garlic and tomatoes.
He's wearing jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, sawdust still clinging to the denim from whatever project he was working on today. His blonde hair is a mess, flopping across his forehead, and he's got a smear of red sauce on his chin.
"More guests?" His eyes light up when he sees Stacey and Harmony. "Excellent. I made enough food to feed an army. Please tell me you're hungry."
"Starving." Stacey locates the wine cabinet and pulls out a bottle of red. "Stacey Williams. Professional chaos agent and Jessica's best friend from the city. This is Harmony. She's famous, but don't mention it, she's trying to pretend she's normal."
"I'm not that famous." Harmony slips onto one of the stools at the island, pulling her sweater tighter around her shoulders.
"You were on the cover of Vogue last month."
"That was a fluke."
"Three times."
"Can we please talk about something else?" Harmony's voice goes thin and strained. "I came here to forget about all of that."
Stacey's expression softens. She crosses to her friend and squeezes her shoulder.
"Sorry, babe. You're right. Tonight is about Jessica and her extremely complicated love life." She turns back to me with a grin. "Speaking of which, where are the other two? I need to see all four of them in the same room. For science."
"Pedro's at the clinic." I accept the glass of wine Carlos hands me. "Late shift. And Sergio is..."
"Right here." Sergio appears in the kitchen doorway, filling it with his broad shoulders. He's wearing a grey henley and dark jeans, hair still damp from a shower. His eyes scan the room, taking in the new arrivals, before landing on me that makes my stomach flip. "Heard we have company."
"Stacey and Harmony." I gesture vaguely. "My friends from the city. They showed up unannounced."
"Best friends show up unannounced." Stacey is already pouring herself a generous glass of wine. "It's in the handbook."
Sergio moves into the kitchen, his presence filling the space. He stops beside me and his hand settles on my lower back, casual and possessive.
"Welcome to our home." His voice is low and steady. "Stay as long as you need."
"Oh, this is going to be fun." She takes a long sip of wine. "Harmony, are you seeing this?"
Harmony nods. "I'm seeing it."
"Seeing what?" I ask.
"Nothing." Stacey's grin is wicked. "Just appreciating the scenery."
Carlos snorts and returns his attention to the sauce. Sergio's thumb traces a circle on my spine. Nacho appears in the doorway, drawn by the noise.
My omega hums contentedly in my chest knowing my alphas are in the kitchen.
Stacey watches it all with sharp, knowing eyes.
"Okay." She sets down her wine glass and claps her hands together. "Someone needs to tell me everything. From the beginning. Starting with the part where you ran from your wedding.”
I groan. "Can we at least sit down first?"
"Living room." Carlos waves his spatula toward the door. "Dinner in twenty. Wine now. Stories immediately."
Stacey hooks her arm through mine and drags me back toward the living room. Harmony follows, still clutching her wine glass like a lifeline. The Negrorios Pack stay in the kitchen, giving us space, though I feel their eyes on me until I'm out of sight.
The living room is exactly as I left it, fire crackling, blankets piled on the couch, the fading light of sunset painting the windows in shades of orange and purple.
Stacey deposits me in the corner of the couch and perches on the arm like a bird of prey.
"Spill."
"Where do you want me to start?"
"The window. The dress. The three-hundred-mile drive to the middle of nowhere." She ticks items off on her rhinestone nails. "Then skip to the part where you're living with four alphas who look at you like you're the sun and they've been living in darkness their whole lives."
"They don't look at me like that."
"Jessica." Harmony's quiet voice cuts through. "They absolutely do."
I blink at her. Harmony is curled up in the armchair by the fire, legs tucked under her, looking smaller than usual. Her hazel eyes are fixed on me with an expression I can't quite read.
"The tall one with the badge." She takes a sip of wine.
"He positioned himself between you and the door.
Protective instinct. The one cooking kept glancing over to make sure you were okay.
And the one with the grey shirt..." She trails off.
"He touched your back like he couldn't help himself.
Like being near you without contact was physically painful. "
"Harmony's freakishly observant." Stacey waves a hand. "It's annoying. But she's not wrong."