Chapter 6
SIX
TRINITY
Margaret Jones-Becker has me wrapped in a tight hug before I’ve even gotten through the door, enveloping me in the familiar aroma of rosemary, mint, and baking bread that is a combination of her and a perpetual scent of the house.
“There’s my busy girl,” my mother says, squeezing me tight. “It’s been too long since you’ve been home.”
I return her hug, guilt settling in my stomach like a stone. “I know, Mom. Work’s been crazy.”
She pulls back, her hands still on my shoulders as she examines me with the critical eye only a mother can perfect. “You look thin. Are you eating properly? Not just those takeout meals?”
“I eat fine.” I hand her the bottle of wine I brought. “Where is everyone?”
I need a buffer between me and her excruciating, if well-intentioned, motherly concern as quickly as possible.
“In the dining room.” She links her arm through mine, guiding me through the sprawling farmhouse. “It’s so nice to have both my girls under one roof again. This place feels empty without you two. ”
I bite my tongue to keep from pointing out that with her, her three alpha mates, and my little half-brothers, the house is hardly empty.
“You know I couldn’t commute from here,” I say instead. “It would be three hours round trip every day.”
“I know, I know.” She sighs dramatically. “But family compounds are meant for families to stay together. That’s why they’re called compounds.”
The Jones-Becker family compound sits on twenty acres of land outside the city. In another life, it might have been peaceful to remain out here with family, but my career makes that impossible.
“Besides,” she continues, “it’s going to be hard to balance all that work when you eventually have a family of your own.”
There it is. The same conversation we’ve had a hundred times.
I swallow my reply because arguing will just sour the evening before it even begins.
She has always seen her primary purpose in life as being a mother and wants the same for her daughters.
It’s not that I’m certain that I don’t want children someday, but I remember what a struggle it was for her after my biological dad died.
The lean years before she met Josie’s father and his packmates—the long hours she worked, the meals we skipped, the secondhand clothes.
I never want to be that vulnerable, that dependent.
Not ever.
“Josie’s alphas are so handsome,” Mom whispers conspiratorially as we approach the dining room. “And successful, too. You should see how they dote on her.”
The memory of Egret pretending not to know me is still fresh and painful. “I’m sure they are. ”
She pats my hand. “Maybe they have friends. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you both had packs? You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
I force a smile. “Let’s just focus on Josie’s wedding for now. I’m sure we’ll get to mine, eventually.”
She makes a disbelieving sound in her throat, but thankfully doesn’t say anything else.
We enter the dining room, and the scene that greets me makes my chest ache with a complicated mix of emotions.
Our family’s pack alpha and Josie’s father, Hans, stands at the head of the table, carving a roast. She got her golden blonde hair and sapphire eyes from him, even if all her other features are from our mother.
My brothers, Miles and Theo, are setting the table, arguing about something only two boys still in elementary school would care about.
Their fathers, Adrian and Finn, are deep in a discussion on the opposite side of the table, likely about a patient or interesting case since they’re both surgeons at the community hospital.
And just like that, I remember why family dinners always produce a mix of love and heartache in me. A small part of me would love to come home to my own version of this, a pack of my own and maybe even a few kids.
This is what I’ve been missing in my elegant downtown apartment with its pristine countertops and silent rooms. The chaos, the noise, the sense of belonging.
If only I wouldn’t have to give up everything else I love in my life to get it.
“Trinie Trin Trin!” Josie jumps up from her seat, rushing over to hug me. “You made it!”
Taking a page from our mother’s playbook, Josie always greets family like we just came back from the war, even if I only just saw her a few hours ago.
Over her shoulder, I finally force my gaze to the center of the table. I hoped if I just ignored the elephants in the room for long enough then they might go away.
No such luck.
There they are—all three of them—lounging at our family table like they belong there.
The traitorous omega in me reacts before my logical brain can intervene, registering how unfairly good they still look.
Egret’s platinum blond hair contrasts with his sharp blue eyes, a combination that once made my heart race.
Brendin’s broad shoulders and the tattoos peeking from beneath his rolled-up sleeves remind me of nights tracing those designs with my fingertips.
And Saren, with his perpetual five o’clock shadow and those dark eyes that seem to absorb all the light in the room—damn him for still being so magnetic.
If only they had ever offered me something more than good looks.
I take my seat, anger simmering beneath my practiced smile. Their polished exteriors hide the truth I know too well: beneath those perfect facades lie egos the size of continents and the emotional depth of rain puddles.
“Trinity,” Brendin nods, his voice neutral. “Nice to finally meet Josie’s sister.”
Finally meet? I dig my nails into my palm under the table.
“Yes, finally,” I echo, voice honeyed with false pleasantness.
Josie beams between them, radiant with happiness.
My chest tightens watching Saren adjust her napkin, his fingers lingering on hers.
Egret whispers something in her ear that makes her giggle.
Despite everything, they seem genuinely attentive, their eyes following her movements with what appears to be authentic adoration.
“Egret was just telling us about their investment firm,” Hans says, passing the potatoes. “Impressive portfolio for alphas so young.”
“Very impressive,” I agree, taking a sip of wine. “Though how much older than Josie are you all? Fifteen years? Twenty?”
Egret clears his throat. “Not quite.”
“All of you are MBAs, right? Which college did you attend again?” Finn asks.
“Westridge University,” Egret answers smoothly. “We all studied business and finance.”
“That’s where Trinity went,” Mom exclaims. “What a coincidence!”
Saren’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth, jaw twitching. “Is that so?”
“Class of 2018,” I say, watching their faces for any crack in their performance. “You must have started business school the same year I got there for undergrad. Strange our paths never crossed.”
Brendin reaches for the bottle of wine. “Big campus.”
“Not that big,” I counter. “Especially in the business department. Practically all of my economics classes were in Hartwell Hall. I basically lived there sophomore year.”
Egret taps his fork on his plate, fingers clenched around the metal. “I thought Josie mentioned that you studied communication, or something.”
“Marketing, actually,” I reply, cooly. Trust him not to remember the thing I spent our entire relationship working toward. “With a double major in Economics.”
“And she runs her own business, a super successful one,” Josie adds, turning to me. “Weren’t you just telling me about some big deal with real estate you were working on, Trinity?”
Part of me wants to pretend I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I can’t help a little bragging.
These men never wanted a successful omega, so they should know I might just be the most successful one they’ve ever met.
“I put in a bid on a venue uptown. It’s a pretty significant capital investment at this point, but this is the first step in my plan to pivot from just planning into more robust event management. ”
“The Schwartzman Center,” Saren correctly guesses, surprising me. “I’d heard it had gone up for sale and the seller is pretty motivated. Good investment for the price.”
I give him a bland smile. “Well, I might not have a business degree, but I learned enough in school.”
“I’d be happy if this one managed to finish even an associate’s degree.” My mother chuckles, pointing a thumb at Josephine. “But lord knows school isn’t for everyone. Me, included.”
I’d love to remind her of the fact that any education past high school might have kept us out of poverty after my dad died, but there isn’t any point.
Bringing up the past will just hurt her without changing anything.
Margaret Jones-Becker wasn’t the first omega left high-and-dry because the world assumes an alpha will always be there to provide, and she certainly won’t be the last.
One trap that I refuse to ever fall into.
But I immediately regret my restraint when Egret reaches for Josie’s hand and gently kisses the back of it to a collective ahh from everyone else at the table.
“I think it’s important to know your strengths.” His gaze flicks to me, so briefly I almost could have imagined it. “And your weaknesses.”
“You know,” I continue, “I had the most interesting roommate junior year—Mackenzie Voight. Pretty redhead, tall for an omega? Surely you remember her, Egret. She was treasurer of the entrepreneurship club, and I swear she dated pretty much every alpha on campus at some point.”
Egret’s jaw tightens. He knows that I know he dated Mackenzie briefly before me.
“Can’t say I do,” he says finally, eyes narrowing.
Josie looks between us, confusion clouding her features. “This is so weird. You all must have just missed each other somehow.”
“Must have,” I agree, locking eyes with Saren. “What are the odds?”
“Astronomical,” he replies, his gaze steady but warning.
“Practically unbelievable,” I add.
“We need more wine,” Josie announces suddenly, grabbing my arm with surprising force. “Trinity, come help me.”