Chapter 12
Ariana
It’s like there’s an invasive species in my home.
My pack had really looked me in my eyes and said nothing would change. Everything’s different.
Liam apologizes for his anger the night of the ball the way he’s always done.
By coming home the next day clutching giant bouquets, instead of with words.
Except not only for me, but for Amy as well.
In the idea of fairness apparently, although I was the one laying in bed alone after they promised me I wouldn’t be.
Ian catches my eye when he hands it over to her. Comfortable environment, he’d said. For who?
The kitchen’s been commandeered. My pack starts leaving for work later, staying to have breakfast with us. There’s no need to plate it for them now that Amy’s cooking, but I at least try to restart my old ritual of making their coffee.
It doesn’t have the domestic bliss it used to. Instead, Amy and I bump elbows or I end up in the way of her cooking. She never outright says it, but she always manages to imply it at the table after.
“Oh, sorry! Is there an eggshell? It’s hard to have enough space with me and Ariana in there at the same time,” she laughs, high pitched and giddy.
“You know what they say about too many cooks in the kitchen,” Cole grins back, smile fading slightly when he catches my unamused eye.
That doesn’t discourage Amy as much. “Yeah! I can handle making the coffee, Ariana. You don’t have to worry about it.” It’s like she’s doing me a favor.
“I like making it.” I used to like breakfast with my pack too. When it was just the four of us, I would have loved to have it together more often. It’s not as enjoyable as it once was.
After the meal, Liam looks between me and Amy, then at me. I expect a comment on the coffee or her cooking. He makes an observation instead. “Your roots are showing, babe.”
I sigh, collecting his plate. “Okay. I’ll ask one of the assistants about getting me a hair appointment.”
Liam’s nitpicks are one thing. Amy’s additions to them are another.
“Wow, that’s so high maintenance! I would hate to have that problem,” she sweeps her blonde hair over her shoulder, stroking it.
“I’m so thankful mine is natural. Doesn’t bleaching it a bunch thin your hair out?
” Her question is poised as innocent, but I can feel her eyes on me, like she’s searching for hair loss.
Maybe her questions are innocent and I’m on edge, imagining her scrutinizing me. Even if she’s not doing so, her comments have a knack for making my alphas do so. It feels deliberate, even if it isn’t.
And it’s hard to imagine the mess I walk into in the kitchen after breakfast not being hostile.
Dishes have always been part of my role in this pack, but they’ve been taken up a whole notch with Amy’s cooking.
Pots and pans caked with flour or batters, mixing bowls and smaller ones used for holding measured ingredients scattered around the kitchen.
“She’s doing it on purpose,” I complain to Cole, applying lotion to my legs in bed.
“Hmm, I don’t think so. You’re just not used to cleaning after someone cooks,” he rests his head on his arm, laying on his side and watching me. I haven’t slept alone since the night of the ball.
“Yes I am. I did it my entire life when I lived with my parents.”
Cole lifts his eyebrows, amusement written plainly across his face. “You mean ten years ago?” He may stifle his smile, but his scent remains lightened by his laughter. “I’ll talk to her, tell her to try not to overdo it. Happy?”
I plant a peck on his lips in response, patting his chest once. This is why I brought it up to him, not Ian or Liam. He may be doing it only for the sake of placating me, but it’s better than nothing.
“I’m not sure how much you can realistically expect her to reduce it if using them makes cooking easier for her. Remember, we don’t want to strain her.” I roll my eyes, both at his logic and his tone, like he’s explaining something to a petulant child. She’s not even pregnant yet.
When I walk into the kitchen the next morning, it’s nearly spotless. Food sits on the island, including two mugs of coffee.
“Good morning!” Amy chirps pleasantly at my arrival, taking me by surprise.
I look at her cautiously. “Hello.” She’s never been this happy to see me.
Her eyes drift down to the coffee cups. “Sorry, I went ahead and made them already, if that’s okay? I got up earlier to take care of the dishes too! Since that’s a problem for you. I didn’t even realize what a mess I was making.”
I bristle at her words. “It’s not a problem, I just said there were a lot of them.” Her voice and scent aren’t strained, but I feel weird regardless. “You don’t have to make the coffee either, like I said, I’ve got it.”
“I’ve got it too! You can check over it if you want to. I was actually going to ask you to, since I’m not sure I nailed how everyone takes it.”
Rather than being hostile, she’s looking at me eagerly, making me soften. I remember being young and keen to impress once too. And it’s not like she’s wronged me terribly. We barely interact beyond mealtimes, each keeping to our rooms once my alphas leave. Maybe this is a step towards coexisting.
“Sure.” I look over the cups. It’s just coffee, not anything complex. I was only protective over making it for nostalgia’s sake. Ian’s plain black and Cole’s with creamer both look fine, still steaming with heat. “Having trouble with Liam’s?”
“You have no idea,” she admits, smiling brightly. It’s still the early hours of morning, but she’s already blown out her hair and put on another one of her floral dresses. Admittedly, I can see why they’re so enamored by her.
I return it with one of my own, though I doubt it’s as pretty in my half asleep state. “Yeah, the machine’s kinda finicky. I’ll show you how to make it.” Selfishly, a part of me wants to keep it to myself. Another part of me feels too guilty about prematurely judging this seemingly naive girl.
She claps the tips of her hands silently. “My hero!”
In her hurry to come closer and learn, her elbow knocks against the coffee cups, tipping them over the edge of the counter.
“Be careful!” I lunge forward, grabbing her wrist to pull her away from the falling mugs. They fall to the floor with a loud crack, breaking into shards.
“Good morning! How are my favorite girls doing?” Liam chooses that moment to burst into the kitchen, filling it with his sage scent. He pauses, looking at the scene in front of him.
My head snaps towards him, then follows his gaze down. Together, we both look at my hands, clutching at Amy’s arm, then at her ankles, rapidly turning red from the spilled hot liquid. There’s even a cut on her foot from a stray fragment of the cups.
The liveliness of his fragrance twists, the sage burning alongside his incensed face. His eyes snap from the remnants of the dishes to me accusingly. “Ariana. What the fuck’s going on?”
I let go of the other omega’s thin wrist, pulling my hands back towards myself self-consciously. Before I can answer, Cole and Ian enter the room, crowding around the kitchen island.
“We heard something break. What happened?” Cole spots the mess at our feet. “Is everyone alright?”
“Go get the first aid kit.” Ian commands the shorter alpha, who nods and tears away. “Care to explain?” He directs his question at Liam, whose scent still flares.
“Your guess is as good as mine. I walk in and Ariana’s tugging Amy around and there’s glass on the floor.” Liam narrows his eyes suspiciously.
“I didn’t tug her around!” Why’d he go straight to blaming me, instead of assuming it was an accident?
“It was my fault, not hers.” Amy speaks up timidly. “I was just trying to make your coffee.” I wince at her wording, wishing she would elaborate a bit better.
“Were you? Didn’t Ariana say she wanted to make it?” Ian studies the two of us.
“She did,” Liam nods. “Amy tried to help you and you got pissy and fought about it, didn’t you?”
“What?” How is he arriving at these conclusions? “No, I wasn’t even here yet when she made them.”
“It’s the other way around! Ariana tried to help me,” Amy comes to my defense. “She was going to teach me how to use the machine and I knocked the cups over.”
“Is that really what happened?” Ian asks impatiently, like he’s irritated this needs to be a conversation at all.
“I swear!” Amy eagerly nods. I look at her from the corner of my eye, not expecting this much enthusiasm from her.
“Ariana?”
The question comes from Ian, but I direct my answer towards Liam’s scowling face. “Of course. Why, you don’t believe us?”
His scowl turns into a sheepish grin. “You should’ve seen what it looked like when I walked in, babe. The blood worried me. I overreacted.”
“You did.” I agree coldly. “You should say sorry.” The alphas startle at that, kitchen temperature growing as chilly as my voice.
I never ask them for an apology, nor do they ever offer one. I’m tired of it. I want words, not another bouquet that’ll wilt away in a week and only get replaced the next time they feel guilty.
“Babe-” Liam starts, then looks towards Ian, as if gauging his reaction.
The older alpha sighs. “Where is Cole with that first aid kit?” He grabs a plate of cut up fruit from the kitchen island, pulling out one of its stools. “Amy, sit. Be more careful next time. Liam, pick up the glass. Ariana, set the table with me. We’re going to be late at this rate.”
Ian’s never set the table and Liam’s never cleaned. I don’t understand. Is he punishing him or giving him a way out from apologizing? Ian doesn’t give either of us time to protest, directing his attention towards Amy.
“Does it hurt badly?”
“Not really.” She twirls her foot, demonstrating. “It wasn’t that hot.” The cut appears minor too, not pouring blood like Liam made it seem.
“Okay.” Ian looks at me and then the food on the counter meaningfully. “Don’t make anything else. Let Cole take a look at it.” He turns and leaves the kitchen without another word. Liam departs after him, muttering something about finding the broom.