Page 109 of All Packed Up

He grinned at the pretty omega. “Well, don’t quote me on this, but I’m pretty sure his name is Nic,” he said with a laugh.

Chapter 27

NIC

Note to self: don’t choose an ex’s place to hide out in.

You know, for future reference, Nic thought bitterly.

“I’m just saying, if you had done this when Arlo put his cornbread in, like I had suggested, we wouldn’t be here.” Wendy’s voice carried from the living room, and Nic rubbed both hands over his face.

He’d only just made his way downstairs, the scent of the soup luring him from his room. Their bickering hadn’t ceased even though he’d made his presence very clear as he’d passed them to get to the dining room.

His plan to leave them together for the entire day clearly hadn’t worked. How had they spent the whole day together and still couldn’t stop arguing? Nic groaned.

“Why?” Griffith grumbled back at her. “Admitting it now isn’t going to change the outcome. Does it matter? Can’t you just go sit down with the others?” he asked.

Nic heard Wendy’s huff from the dining room. “I told you I’d help carry everything out!”

“Yeah, well, that was before you started annoying me,” Griffith answered. “Where’s Arlo?”

The alpha in question slunk deeper into his seat at the table, eyes wide as he glanced up at Nic.

“Me annoying you?” Wendy’s voice shrieked as pans clinked. “I think it’s the other way around, pal. You’re the most infuriating person I’ve…”

Wendy continued her tirade, but of course Griffith couldn’t let her have the last word.

Nic slumped back in his chair and stared at the ceiling as their bickering filled the background.

Why me?

At first, Nic thought he’d misheard Griffith sass her, but when she’d cut right back with a retort so sharp it’d made him wince, he knew it was real. Nic didn’t know if it was the pheromones, or maybe it was cabin fever? They’d just suddenly started going at each other.

“Maybe I should go get the cornbread,” Arlo said, the sole voice of reason.

“Yes, be the referee,” Tate hissed, and tilted his head at the aforementioned room.

It still took him a comically long time to get himself out of the dining room chair and work up the courage to enter the war zone.

The bickering died down as his calm voice entered the equation, and eventually he made it back into the living room unscathed, but with wide eyes.

“What’s going on?” Nic asked.

Arlo shrugged as he carried his pan of cornbread to the center of the table. It had a towel over it, so Nic couldn’t see the concoction yet. “Griffith is bringing the soup soon. I think. Maybe. I’m pretty sure Wendy threatened to throw it away at one point.”

Nic hung his head. Why couldn’t those two just get along? Where was this goddamned bickering coming from?

Should he consider himself lucky that he wasn’t stuck in the middle? He huffed. Nic didn’t even understand why it bothered him so much, why he cringed every time they clashed. Did it even matter at this point? They’d eventually get past her heat, and then they could get out of Grif’s hair—

Nic stopped himself before he could finish the thought. But the idea had already been brought to life, and he didn’t think it would be easy to snuff it out.

Some tiny, hidden part of him had secretly hoped…

He pinched the bridge of his nose as their bickering quieted down.

Hoped what? That the stars would align and somehow, despite everything, he’d have both Griffith and Wendy?

But by the time Arlo had the cornbread perfectly placed, Wendy and Griffith entered the kitchen in one piece.