38. Sawyer

38

"Don't worry," Roman says, "we're not here for you."

I feel as if he's slapped me. Heat seeps into my cheeks, burning. "Right. Of course not."

"Hey, that's rude," June says and I turn around and walk to the bar, giving them my back. If the pack want to talk, I'd rather not do it where the girls can hear us. Or see my face right now.

The men follow me there but don't sit on the stools. They remain standing, and I am forced to turn back around and face them.

"So what do you want?" I ask, willing my voice not to shake.

"We're looking for Brinlee," Roman says. "Have you seen her?"

"No, why? Did something happen?"

"A misunderstanding, we think," Archer replies.

My hands start to tremble. "A misunderstanding. Is she all right?"

"Yeah. We think so." Roman frowns at me. "Sawyer… is everything okay?"

"Sure. "

"You don't look okay."

"I'm fucking fine, so quit asking." I swallow a lump stuck in my throat. "You didn't come here for… for me, so…"

"Hey." Archer lifts his hands. "Brinlee told us you were meeting with another pack. We don't want to get in your way."

Fuck, she did? Now they're all watching me intently, and Roman has his mouth open as if he was about to say something else.

A silence spreads.

"Right." I lick my dry lips. "Right, I was. I did. Meet the pack, that is. But I haven't seen Brinlee since yesterday morning. I told her about meeting this pack, you see. And having to choose a pack by next week. I think…" My voice has grown faint. I feel faint. I clear my throat. "I think I've hurt her. I know I have. It was never my intention. Jesus…"

They've all stepped closer, brows drawn together in dark frowns.

"It seems you've made up your mind," Kyrian says.

"I… yeah, I… Fuck…"

"So you've met with this pack and, what? Are they better than us?"

"Shut up, Kyrian." Archer steps even closer, looking down at me, and I can't breathe. "How did the meeting go?"

"B…bad," I manage.

"Sawyer." Roman comes and takes my hands in his, squeezing. His gaze is concerned. "Calm down. Man, you're shaking. Was the meeting so terrible?"

"It was," I admit, my voice cracking.

"The hell. She told us something about your family pressuring you. But I didn't think… is this happening against your will?"

I shake my head, unable to speak. Or breathe. My stomach churns unpleasantly. I hope I won't throw up all over their shoes.

"Do you want this?" Kyrian demands, stepping closer. "Time to fess up, Sawyer. Do you want one of those packs you've been visiting? Do you sleep with them, too?"

"No," I snap, some of my anger returning, "I don't fucking sleep with them. And I'm not being forced to go and meet them, nobody's holding a gun to my head, but if I don't do it… Fuck… Last night's pack was just…"

And suddenly I'm hauled against Roman in a bear hug. "Fuck, Sawyer. What the hell happened?"

Not only Roman, I realize after a long, breathless moment. Kyrian and Archer have also put their arms around me, and my eyes burn.

"Nothing," I manage. "Nothing happened. But it was damn close."

"Who scared you like that?" Kyrian seethes when they finally release me and take a step back. "Tell us the name of the pack. We're gonna feed them their balls and string them up by their dicks."

My heart jolts.

"Did you hear that?" Coco stage-whispers way too loud from somewhere behind me, and I almost snort. "I want a man to say that to me!"

"That he'd string someone up by their balls?" June sounds shocked. "Really?"

"You're ours," Archer says fiercely, cupping my face, drawing my attention back to him. "Fuck, Sawyer, you're ours, don't you feel it?"

"You said… you didn't come here for me." And the lump is back in my goddam throat, and I don't cry in front of people, dammit.

"That came out wrong. I was mad that you went off to meet another pack without telling us," Roman says. "Not that you owe us the truth."

"But I should have told you," I say, stricken. "You're right."

"Do you want to be with another pack?" Archer asks.

"No."

"Then what's this about?"

"You don't understand," I say, miserable. "I'll lose my café."

"The hell? Why?"

"My parents loaned me part of the money I needed to start the business. Now they're holding that debt over my head. They'll take away the café. They don't give a shit. In their minds, I shouldn't have opened it in the first place."

Archer's brows go up. "Why not? It's a great place."

"I know, right?" I give him a faint smile. "But they think an omega's place is at home, not in business. They think once I find a pack, I'll give up on the café and sell it."

"What the fuck," Kyrian mutters. "That's fucking ancient prejudice. Pure bullshit one hundred percent."

I give him a startled look. Of all people, the last one I expected to defend my freedom of will is Kyrian. We really got off on the wrong foot, I can see that now.

"Sorry, Kyrian," I say.

"Call me Ky. And what are you sorry for?"

"For yelling at you the first time we met. You know." I shrug. "For rearranging my books."

"Fucking up with your color scheme." He chuckles. "It's okay, my bad. Why the color scheme though? You never told me."

"I have…" I lick my lips. This is something I've never discussed with anyone, except Eric, but Kyrian deserves to know. All of them do. "I have some… OCD issues."

A small silence spreads. The guys' faces are blank. I don't think the words have sunk in yet.

But then Kyrian says, "I told you, guys, didn't I?"

"You knew?" I stare at him. At all of them. "Why aren't you running away?"

"We don't want to run away." Archer reaches for my hand, takes it, measures his palm against mine. "Our only question is, how can we help?"

Damn him. My heart is racing. Are they serious?

"Yeah, man," Roman takes my other hand, tugs me toward the bar. "Let's have a seat and tell us if there is anything we can do. It's stress-related, right? Can we take any of that stress off your shoulders?"

"Guys…" Kyrian stops us. He comes to stand in front of me. "I think his stress has to do with what he told us. The debt. His parents. The pack he has to choose. Sawyer…" He takes a knee in front of me, and I stare at him, dumbfounded. "Choose us."

"Excuse me?"

"Now we know what this is about," he says, "that we know it's not your choice to be with another pack, I'm making you an offer on behalf of the McGraw Pack: choose us."

"But…" I turn to look at Roman, and then Archer. Archer is grinning. "Have you talked about this?"

"Of course we have. Kyrian is right," Archer says, "why wait a second longer? Join our pack, Sawyer. We want you. We've never gone looking for another member, but then we met you and Brinlee, and we can't imagine our pack without you."

"But I…"

"Say yes," Kyrian says. "Say yes to trying."

"Say yes," Roman repeats, his eyes bright. "Be with us."

My jaw clenches. "Didn't you hear me? Don't you get what it means? I have OCD. I'm… fucked up. Broken."

"OCD doesn't make you broken, Sawyer." Kyrian is still on the floor, gazing up at me. "It makes you a fighter. You keep going against the odds. You face obstacles every day that most of us don't have to, and you don't let them slow you down, or stop you. That's fierce. That's courageous."

"But… there's something wrong with me."

"No, there isn't. You are who you are, and if anxiety gives you trouble, well, then, we need to make sure your life isn't hampered by anxiety anymore."

He makes it sound so simple. "It won't stop, you know," I say quietly.

"What?"

"The OCD. Even if I'm happy. Even if I'm not so anxious. It will never completely go away."

"And that's absolutely fucking fine," Kyrian says, eyes blazing. "You're perfect as you are."

My voice cracks just a little when I ask, "So you really want to be with me?"

Roman taps his chest and grins. "Cross my heart and all that. Why not give it a try? Trial period, how about that? If it breaks, you get your money back."

Yeah, I want to laugh, and I want to cry, but I won't. Laughing would prove I'm crazy, crying isn't manly, and an omega has to be careful not to appear weak. "I just… I don't know what to say."

"Yes? Say yes. If you want to, that is."

"Fuck, I want it," I whisper. "I've never wanted anything so much in my whole life, especially if Brinlee is joining, too."

"We're working on Brinlee," Roman says, whatever that means. "So what do you say?"

"I want to. I'm all in, but what about my debt? What shall I do? I'll lose the café."

"That won't do," Roman says. "It's important to you. We'll find a solution. Together."

"I don't know how big your debt is," Archer says. "I don't want to make promises I can't keep. We're not one of those rich packs your parents surely want for you. But we have some money, and if that's not enough, I swear I'll sell my shares and work my ass off to pay it and free you from that yoke."

"As will I," Kyrian says, rising back to his feet.

"And I," Roman declares.

My eyes burn.

"The three musketeers," Coco stage whispers now. "Three for one and one for all!"

The girls are giggling at the back of the café, but I don't give a damn.

"Come to our place," Roman says. "After you close up your café, come spend the night with us. Get to know us. We'll have dinner. Archer is a mean cook."

I turn to him. "Really?"

"You've never heard of an alpha cooking before?" he mutters.

"Not that. You're inviting me to dinner?"

"And into our pack," he says. "Look, we were going to take this slower, but with the way things are evolving…"

"What way?"

"You with these packs, and Brinlee running away last night… Point is, we want to make an offer. To both of you."

A slow smile is spreading over my face. I feel it tugging at my mouth, at my cheeks. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Didn't you guess?" Roman's grin widens. "Do we have that good a poker face? Hear that, Arch? I should try my hand at poker again."

"Last time you were robbed blind," Archer mutters.

"He's only mad because it was his money I lost," Roman says with a chuckle. "Anyway… back to you. This is our official invitation for you to join our pack."

I open my mouth. Close it. Glance from one handsome face to the next. "You're making me an offer. To join your pack."

"That's right."

"And we can do a trial run."

"Damn right."

"And you're working on getting Brinlee on board as well."

"Yup. Are you in?"

I shouldn't. I'm supposed to choose one of the packs my parents want for me. Keep my café. Keep my life as it is—only it won't stay the same, will it? Something has to change either way, and this is my chance to choose my path.

"I'm in," I say.

If I can't keep the café, I may give it another try later on in life. But if I let go of these guys, I have a feeling I'll regret it forever.