Chapter 24 Three Alphas & Chaos
Three Alphas & Chaos
~REVERIE~
Ibeam at the camera one last time, my cheeks flushed from the cold November air and the excitement of the last hour exploring Millbrook with Harold as our enthusiastic guide, who knew absolutely everyone and everything about this charming town.
We'd visited the Christmas market that takes up the entire town square—stalls selling handmade ornaments, local honey, knitted scarves in every color imaginable.
We'd toured the historic church with its beautiful stained glass windows depicting winter scenes.
We'd stopped at a bakery that smelled like cinnamon and gingerbread and made my mouth water.
Harold had introduced us to at least twenty people, each one friendlier than the last.
Millbrook is the kind of place that makes you believe in holiday magic. Every building is decorated with lights and garland. Every shop window displays festive scenes. Even the lamp posts are wrapped in red ribbon and greenery.
"That's all from me today, guys!" I say, waving enthusiastically at the camera. "If I stumble upon more adventurous mayhem—which let's be honest, seems pretty much inevitable at this point given how this day has gone—I'll surely be back on live to share every chaotic second with you! Promise!"
The comments are still flying past at lightning speed.
Heart emojis. Fire emojis.
People begging me not to end the stream.
"I'm getting plenty of content today," I continue, glancing at my phone's storage bar that's definitely looking fuller than it was this morning. "Well, if my phone can actually manage to hold all of this footage without exploding, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there!"
I take a breath, trying to organize my thoughts into something coherent instead of the excited rambling I've been doing for the past hour.
"Please follow and share this around if you're in the Christmas spirit and just want to see an Omega like me live my best Christmas life in Oakridge Hollow and all the other adorable small towns I'm hoping to visit over the next six weeks!
There's so much magic to discover, and I want to share it all with you! Stay tuned for more adventures!"
I shift my attention to the lifters section, my fingers flying across the screen as I type quick thank-yous to the top contributors who've been sending virtual gifts throughout the stream.
@CozyCoffeeLover - thank you so much for the roses!
@WinterWonderOmega - you're amazing, those galaxy gifts are gorgeous!
@AlphaPackLeader - seriously appreciate the—
Then I feel it—an arm sliding around my waist from behind, firm and warm and unmistakably Alpha, pulling me backward against a solid body that smells like motor oil and leather and something uniquely Nash.
I look up, tilting my head back to see Nash's face above mine, his expression somewhere between genuinely concerned and thoroughly exasperated with my life choices.
"You're standing in the road," he mutters, his voice low enough that I'm hoping—praying—the phone's microphone doesn't pick it up and broadcast it to my followers.
I pout automatically—it's basically my default expression when being scolded for something I don't think deserves scolding.
My bottom lip pushes out and everything.
"The road and the sidewalk are literally inches apart. Like, maybe six inches. Look around us. There are more horses here than cars. Significantly more. I've seen four horses and one car in the past hour. No one is going to hit me. The statistical probability is minuscule."
It's completely true.
Millbrook's main street is quiet and wonderfully charming, with maybe three cars total parked along the entire two-block stretch we can see.
Most people seem to travel by foot or horse-drawn carriage like we're living in some kind of historical romance novel.
It's like stepping back into a different century where life moved slower and people had time to appreciate things.
Nash grumbles—this low, rumbling sound deep in his chest that I can feel vibrating against my back where I'm pressed against him.
The sensation sends little shivers down my spine that have nothing to do with the December cold.
He looks down at me with those intense blue eyes that seem to see right through every defense I have.
"Do you always have to be so competitive about everything, big mouth?"
My jaw drops.
"Big mouth?! Do you have to be such a stubborn, possessive Alpha about every little thing?!"
We're scowling at each other now—me craning my neck to glare up at him, him glaring down at me with his arm still locked around my waist like he's not planning to let go anytime soon.
Then a sweet, elderly voice cuts through our standoff like a knife through butter.
"Aww, Harold, look at that young couple! Aren't they absolutely precious?"
A senior couple walks past us on the sidewalk—the woman with silver hair styled in a neat bun, wearing a long burgundy wool coat and carrying a shopping bag that says 'Millbrook Christmas Market' on the side.
The man beside her, equally silver-haired and distinguished-looking, tips his brown fedora hat at us with a knowing smile that suggests he's seen this exact scenario play out a thousand times before.
"Remember when we were their age, dear?" the woman continues, her voice warm with nostalgia and affection.
"Always bickering about absolutely nothing.
Getting into arguments on street corners.
That's how you know it's real love—when you can't stop arguing because you care too much to let things go. "
Her husband chuckles, the sound rich and knowing.
"Forty-three years of marriage and she still argues with me about everything. Best decision I ever made was marrying a woman who wasn't afraid to call me on my nonsense."
They both laugh together—this sweet, synchronized sound that speaks of decades of shared jokes and memories—and continue down the sidewalk, completely oblivious to the absolute mortification they've just inflicted on us.
My face goes hot. I can feel the blush spreading from my neck to my hairline like someone poured hot sauce directly onto my skin. My cheeks must be the color of ripe tomatoes by now.
Nash's face has a pink tinge too—barely visible on his tanned skin but definitely there if you know what to look for. His ears are red.
Oh my god they think we're a couple. A real couple. Not a fake contract situation. An actual in-love couple who argues because we care. This is mortifying. This is the worst. Why is my heart doing that fluttery thing?
"Look what you're doing!" I hiss at Nash, trying to pull away from his grip, which remains frustratingly immovable like he's made of concrete.
"Making people think we're together! Making elderly couples give us relationship advice!
The audacity! This is entirely your fault for being all possessive and Alpha-like! "
Nash huffs, his breath visible in the cold December air like little clouds.
"We are together. Literally. Right now. Or are you only interested in Theo because he's supposedly the hottest one in the group?"
My blush deepens to absolute crimson.
"I never said he was the hottest! Where would you even get that idea?! I have never once said those words!"
Nash rolls his eyes in that infuriating way he has perfected—the one that makes me want to simultaneously kiss him and punch him.
"What? So it's Grayson then. Is that your pick? The romance novelist rancher? Very cliché of you."
I pinch the bridge of my nose with my free hand—the one not holding my phone that's probably still broadcasting this entire mortifying conversation.
"No! Why are you even bringing Grayson or Theo into this conversation right now?! They're not here! This is about you being impossible!"
Nash smirks—I can hear it in his voice before I even see his face properly.
He leans in closer, invading my personal space completely, forcing me to pause mid-protest as we share an intense look that makes my breath catch in my throat.
The motor oil and leather scent of him is overwhelming this close. Mixed with winter air and something uniquely Nash that I'm starting to recognize instantly.
Then he whispers, his breath warm against my ear despite the November cold, his voice low and taunting and entirely too pleased with himself.
"There are only three of us in my pack, Sugarplum."
My whole face erupts in flames. Every single nerve ending catches fire.
Sugarplum. SUGARPLUM.
That nickname Theo gave me at the bar when we were provoked by Jasper to prove I was their Omega. He heard that. Oh my god, he heard Theo call me that. How much did he hear? Why is my brain completely offline right now?
Nash continues, clearly enjoying my complete mental breakdown.
"I heard Theo call you that at the bar when you were sitting on his lap. Guess you like being named after sweet festive fruits and holiday treats, huh? Should I start coming up with Christmas nicknames, too? Maybe Candy Cane? Gingerbread? Eggnog?"
I stutter—words completely failing me in spectacular fashion.
"I—that's—he was just—it wasn't—"
He chuckles, the sound low and deeply pleased with himself for reducing me to stuttering nonsense.
"So by pure process of elimination, since you've ruled out Theo and you just said it's not Grayson either, I'm clearly the hottest Alpha in this pack. I'm the only one left. Thanks for your honesty and the ego boost, Sugarplum. Really appreciate the confirmation and validation."
I gawk at him—mouth hanging open, eyes wide, brain completely fried—as he releases me from his grip and turns around smoothly, starting to walk down the sidewalk like he didn't just completely demolish my ability to form coherent thoughts or sentences.
"Better hurry up," he calls over his shoulder without even looking back, his tone casual and infuriating. "Or I'm leaving you behind in Millbrook. I'm sure Millie the moose would appreciate the company. You two seemed to get along."