Chapter 48
My hand runs across the cool leather spines of the books.
These aren’t my favorites. They are quite lovely, and they hold sentimental value, as my parents gifted them to me when I graduated college.
But I’d be hard pressed to admit that my favorites are a stack of dog-eared paperbacks that are still hiding in my room so that they don’t get even more damaged.
I’ve read them all repeatedly, and heaven knows that none of them are considered traditionally “valuable” but they’re important to me. Those let me escape.
I love my family, even though we don’t usually see eye to eye, but I’m a far cry from what my alpha fathers and brothers thought I would be.
For a few years they were certain I would be an omega, but that didn’t turn out either.
Even if I had just been a beta, it would make more sense than what most people see me as now, which is too heavily scented to be a beta, too much knot to be an omega, and too small to be an alpha.
Not that they ever pressured me to be anything I’m not.
In truth, they just want me to be happy.
But growing up, everybody in our town knew my older brothers.
They all played high school sports, they all went on to further those careers.
And then there was the youngest, me, never quite… anything.
My parents brought it up a few times, trying to get me into athletics.
They even offered to take me for fencing lessons, but I never wanted that.
I’m happy for my brothers that this is what they want with their lives, but it’s not me, it was never me.
I’d rather sit quietly and read a book than chase a puck around with a stick.
I’d rather sit with someone and play a quiet game of chess than chase someone else across a field after a ball.
Growing up, my mom read Grimm’s Fairy Tales to me when I was young.
Stories of fantastical adventures of the youngest brother who, more due to intelligence, kindness, and perseverance, saved the day…
and often his bigger, tougher older brothers.
Not that I ever wanted anything bad to happen to my brothers, they can be assholes, but they’re mine.
As I got older, we branched out into classics like The Hobbit or The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
While she never shied away from American authors, the majority of her collection were older British works.
Then, in high school, I read my first Diskworld novel, and it struck a chord with me.
Not just due to the comedy, which is wonderful, but the thinly veiled sociological commentary and introspection.
I devoured everything in the series that I could find.
And soon Mom and Dads would just take me to the bookstore for every holiday that involved gifts.
If I could have brought only one box when I left my last pack, it would have had those books, the first ones Mom gave me from her own collection.
None of them are worth anything to anyone else, but to me, they mean that my family understands me; they accept me for who I am, even if I’m not like my brothers.
I knew when I moved here that everything I couldn’t fit in Nadine would probably end up in a dumpster, and while I’m not happy to have lost so many other books, it’s still a relief that I was able to save these.
Of course, had I been more like my brothers, the omega that my pack chose would probably have accepted me.
The alpha she brought in to replace me was a musclebound idiot.
The same kind of person I initially took Spencer for. More the fool I.
Of course, now he’s besotted with the omega guest of his employers.
He hasn’t said as much, but it’s painfully obvious.
Thankfully, she’s only here for a week, and I can be polite that long.
I may dislike omegas on principle, but she’s never done anything to me, so for now it’s fine.
I just hope the big lug can keep his head and not get drawn into anything. I can’t lose my pack again.
Teddy stands off to one side, looking over Paul’s sparse collection of horror stories, while Kelly and Steve bicker quietly across the room about having Sam build more bookcases for their downstairs pack room.
Those two fight about everything—never seriously, but they act like siblings more than mates, which makes sense, I guess.
The sound of hurrying footsteps draws my attention to the hallway.
It has to be Spencer; he’s the only one who sounds like a herd of elephants stampeding through the house.
Sticking my head out the door, I call his name, wanting to make sure he’s ok.
All I can see of him is his head as he practically runs down the stairs, and his reply is half shouted. “Gotta unload Nadine. Be back soon!”
That was…odd. The man has eccentricities, to be sure, but even for him that was off character.
I’d almost think he was embarrassed, but I’d hate for him to feel awkward in his own home.
This should be his safe space. Stepping out into the hallway, I call back over my shoulder.
“Lunch is probably ready whenever you’re hungry.
I’ll be there shortly.” Teddy’s voice rumbles an affirmative, but the other two never stop their mutual sniping, so I’m unsure if they heard me.
It only takes a moment for me to be standing in the doorway of the nest that Spencer is so enamored with, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see the appeal of the room.
It really is nice. Larger than the nest back at my old pack’s house, with a huge skylight and one wall nearly covered in windows.
If I’m being honest, it would make a terrible library since there’s an attached bathroom; the humidity could be disastrous.
But I wasn’t above a little white lie to keep Spencer from turning it into some sort of omega haven.
We don’t need an omega. The fact that one is currently lying on the plastic-wrapped mattress and staring out at the passing clouds is beside the point. She’s not here to stay.
Greg looks over at me as I walk in, nodding my head back the way I came. “Is Spencer ok? He ran out of here in a rush. Did something happen?”
His voice is smooth and resonant; I can imagine why he would choose a musical career.
He’s certainly suited for it. “I’m not one hundred percent, but I think he might have been embarrassed earlier.
He was talking about painting in here and how he wanted to make it look like something from his childhood.
” He sounds almost evasive, as if he doesn’t want to tell me exactly what that memory was.
Not that I know a lot about Spencer growing up, but he’s my packmate.
I have a brief internal debate on demanding answers, especially if this beta thinks it’s something he should hide.
His melodious voice draws me back. “Anyway, he got super flustered talking about how he was fixing up this room, saying just because somebody doesn’t love it now doesn’t mean it isn’t worth loving.
Then he turned bright red and kind of bolted after telling us that lunch was probably ready.
Sorry if we flustered the big guy. He was just so excited, but I promise we didn’t say anything to try to upset him. ”
No, they wouldn’t have had to. Spencer, for all his overwhelming bravado, is a soft soul.
I swear, he can’t even kill a spider; he always asks Paul or me to take it outside because he worries about hurting them inadvertently.
And I fear it may already be too late for him not to be half in love with this girl.
He loves people so easily that I sometimes envy him.
He isn’t afraid to take the risk of caring for someone, whereas my jaded ass would rather just avoid people altogether than risk getting hurt again.
I know there are good people out there; I only have to look at him and Paul for that truth.
But is it worth the risk of letting someone in to find them?