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“You don’t?”

“I share my room with a friend.”

Alden arches a brow.

“An omega friend,” I clarify. “Noel.”

Seeing that flash of possessiveness lifts my mood. He and Tyler seem to share me insultingly easily. “I just make a little over-bed tent for privacy and ride it out in there. I don’t have anyone to share it with, and usually I don’t have time to make a nest since most of my heats happen this way. I have them so often it doesn’t have to be special.”

“Your body is not very nice to you.”

“No, it isn’t.”

My neck tenses. Is he going to press the issue or maybe judge me? But he just picks up a peach-colored top sheet and a white top sheet with peach emojis printed on it.

I narrow my eyes on him, but I can’t conceal my smile. “Did you seriously buy these ahead of time just so you could tease me?”

He grins slowly. “Not to tease. Just to make you smile.”

Warmth blooms inside my center, a sense of safety and rightness.

“Now where should I put them? Come on, use me.”

Over the next ten minutes, I direct Alden as he builds my dream nest with yards of luxurious cotton, silk, and fine-knit wool fabric. I get up, only once, so he can spread out a fluffy duvet. He did the rest. When he’s finished, I ask him to layer blankets over the canopy until it dampens the noise outside our nest.

But something is still missing, and I’m starting to panic. Alden valiantly rolls up plush blankets to create a border of softness around our bodies. He’s added and removed pillows and added them again. He’s suspended pinprick fairy lights like stars overhead.

“I’m sorry.” I wince through a sharp cramp, holding a pillow against my stomach. “This doesn’t feel right. Something’s still missing.”

Alden sits back on his heels. “Do you think what’s missing is Tyler?” His face is neutral, but I see the worry there.

“I don’t want Tyler. He’s not safe. You’re safe.”

“He is safe. I promise. I can try calling him?”

“No.” Another cramp barrels into me and I cry out. Sweat drips down my brow.

“Let me try something.” He climbs off the bed.

“No. Don’t leave.”

“Elliott.” He takes my hands, blue eyes sincere. “I’m going to get some of Ty’s laundry. I’ll be right back.” He cups my cheek. “Is that okay, or do you want to come with me?”

I shake my head. “It feels safer in our nest.”

He smiles, only just. “Good. Then we’re on the right track.”

Two minutes feels like two hours, but when his footsteps return, and he parts the blankets and appears, the relief of his scent mixed with Tyler’s makes it all worth it. Alden widens the gap in the blanket and sets a pillow on the bed. It smells just like the ocean. I grab it and hold it against my face.

When I lower it, Alden is watching me with an impassive expression. Yearning, maybe? Hope? I’m not sure. But things finally feel right again. I rearrange the pillows we already rearranged five times, and finally it feels right to rest back against them, not directly on his pillow, but just so he’s here with us.

“I brought some laundry too. A hoodie.” He swallows. “Some boxer briefs and tees.” He picks up a basket and shows it to me.

“Dump them here,” I say with renewed confidence and energy.

I wedge his clothing in between the pillows and hide them inside the layered blankets. I don’t know how I’m ever going to go back to fighting my heats alone.

Alden’s watching me when I turn back, a pleased smile on his face like he’s proud of me. Right now, I’m bossy.