Knot the Way I Break: Omegaverse Reverse Harem Why Choose Romance by J. M Crosbie

Author:J. M Crosbie [Crosbie, J. M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 240404067
Published: 2025-10-05T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Declan

December 18th

8:36 A.M

The couch was actually comfortable—rare for my size—and for the first time in days my body wasn’t convinced a fight was coming. Rue curled in the opposite corner, legs tucked under, while Alexi claimed the armchair like it owed him tribute. Warm lamplight turned the room small on purpose. Intimate. Safer.

I watched Rue while Alexi walked her through the boring parts of pack life—who handles groceries, who’s banned from laundry after Cass turned an entire load pink, why Ashe isn’t allowed to order takeout without supervision anymore. (One time he “accidentally” ordered from a front we’d burned. Long story. Bad egg rolls.)

She soaked it in, but that careful distance stayed in her eyes. Like she was braced for the reveal: temporary, conditional, joke’s on you.

I know that posture. I lived in it for years.

“Tell her about the time Cass tried to make breakfast,” I said. That one always lands.

Alexi’s mouth flicked. “Which time?”

“The pancake incident.”

“Oh, right.” He leaned forward, silver eyes warmed by mischief. “Six months after Cass joined, he decides to ‘contribute’ with pancakes. He’s up at five a.m.—first red flag—and he’s mixing batter like it personally wronged him. Unfortunately, he can’t count. Or tell baking powder from baking soda.”

Rue’s brows lifted, the corner of her mouth giving. “Promising start.”

“We wake up to the smoke alarm screaming. The entire first floor is foggy. Batter on the ceiling, the walls, inside the microwave. Cass is standing in it with flour in his hair, holding a spatula like he’s going to shank it.”

“I came down first,” I added. “The ‘pancakes’ looked like charcoal frisbees.”

“He made enough batter for fifty,” Alexi said. “Kitchen looked like a flour bomb detonated.”

“What did you do?” Rue asked, fully smiling now.

“Ashe declared leftover cold pizza,” I said. “Then we scrubbed batter out of cabinet hinges for two hours. Cass got a six-month ban from unsupervised cooking.”

“He was offended,” Alexi said. “Like we were stifling his culinary genius.”

Rue laughed, clean and unexpected. Something warm unfolded in my chest like a knife clicking open. “Sounds right. Did he ever learn?”

“He can manage grilled cheese,” I said. “If someone else supervises heat and knives.”

“He’s decent at coffee,” Alexi added. “Debatable if that’s ‘cooking.’”

“What about the weapons room?” I offered. “He tried reorganizing.”

Alexi groaned. “Tell it.”

“Cass gets ideas that start with ‘wouldn’t it be more efficient if…’ and end with us bleeding or cleaning. This time he re-sorted the armory by ‘aesthetic appeal.’”

Rue’s eyes brightened. “Explain.”

Alexi ticked it off, deadpan. “All silver together because ‘cohesive.’ All black-handled knives in one section for ‘drama.’ Guns organized by size instead of caliber because ‘visual balance.’”

“Please tell me someone needed gear mid-reorg,” Rue said.

“Ashe,” I said. “Emergency call. He went for his setup and found a gallery installation instead.”

“I have never seen Ashe look that homicidal before coffee,” Alexi said.

“Cass survived,” I said. “Barely. Maintained his system was ‘superior’ right up until I made him put everything back.”

“He pouted for a week,” Alexi added. “Called us ‘aesthetic philistines.’”

Rue shook her head, still smiling.

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