The pack is still standing in the dark in front of the gate, exactly where they’d been when Finn had thrown himself out of an Uber, smelling of fresh lilacs and looking dazed and confused. He’d clarified that the daze had been from delivering Arlo’s new daughter. She smelled like lilacs, turning her array of fathers into bumbling, giggling, and snarling Weres.
He had been thanked heartily for his service—then summarily thrown out on his ass.
Subsequently, Finn had turned up at the compound confused and expecting the worst because while he had been delivering a placenta, Nix had been ripping the heart from Dill Pickle’s chest.
Finn had caught glimpses of what Nix was seeing through their new bond, and in the process, he had fumbled the organ he was holding. As he tells it, Baz had nearly tripped in his haste to catch it—without thinking—and with his bare hands.
Gideon can’t help but smile at the mental image of the chaos. Flustered Finn is one of Gideon’s favorite things.
That and the absence of pure agony is a relief, but Gideon still feels like shit. The pulsing ache behind his eyes hasn’t let up, and the swelling must be terrible—because every time Jay catches sight of him, he flinches.
Grayson had run back to the house for warm washcloths and an ice pack since Jay insisted they all stay at the scene. After all, they still hadn’t decided what to do with Dill Pickle—or his no-longer-beating heart—lying just three feet away.
“Here, love. Let me…” Jay tilts Gideon’s chin this way and that, shaking his head. A single warm cloth won’t make a dent in what is sure to be a literal bloody mess on his face.
“I was so worried,” he whispers, careful not to be overheard by their other mates—especially Rowan, who is still standing over the body. They’ve given up trying to stop him from the occasional growl and kick.
“Yeah? You worried about lil’ ole me?” Gideon drawls, his words thick with Southern honey and sass. His accent is atrociously bad, earning an eye-roll from Jay.
But Jay doesn’t smile like Gideon intended. Instead, his face is dead serious.
“You were lying there like he’d killed you. I will never unsee him pounding on you. Never.”
Jay’s voice cracks, and Gideon’s guilt grows one more size.
Like the Grinch’s heart, soon it’ll be too big to be contained inside his chest.
Guilt.
Patrick Carnell had taught him about pain and hatred—but never about guilt. His mother had taught him that.
That love sometimes means regret.
And more often than not, it means guilt, too.
Fuck, does that hurt.
Gideon brushes his bloody knuckles down Jay’s cheek. “I’m okay, Alpha.”
Jay wraps a hand around the back of Gideon’s neck, squeezing gently. “You almost weren’t. I heard you make that crazy laugh, and it sent shivers down my spine. We will talk about you enjoying that too much when thisdust settles, yeah?”
Fuck, no they willnot.Not if Gideon had anything to say about it.
The list of things theydoneed to talk about is already too long, and that’s just from today.
At the edge of the drive, Finn finishes checking Nix over, sparing Gideon an awkward denial. “Now, can someone tell me what happened?”
“Gideon and Nix kicked one of the intruders’ asses!” Rowan exclaims from his position near the car. He punctuates the words with another nudge to Dill Pickle’s corpse.
“T’was epic,” a cuddly Luca mumbles from Leo’s lap on the edge of the driveway. He’s seeking comfort with a hand under Leo’s shirt, kneading his pec while his mouth works a nearly-black hickey into his neck.
Not for the first time, Gideon wishes he could curl up in someone’s lap and be comforted, too.
Jay runs a hand over the top of his head like he can read Gideon’s mind. “You okay, love?”
He’s so far from okay, but it’s easier to solve a problem than be one. “Yes, of course. What are we doing with Dill Pickle?” He’d like to set him on fire, but Bethany from the neighborhood watch would definitely have something to say about that.
“Well, we can’t just bury him in the backyard,” Grayson says wryly.
