Chapter 62
My body hates me. That’s all I can figure out right now. Of course it decided to wait until I was away from my nest to start going batshit crazy, why wouldn’t that happen? And only around the alphas that I’m not supposed to want.
I have a scent match; I have two, in fact.
One back home, and the one standing beside me as I wait in line at the checkout of this weird little grocery store.
It’s not a bad place, bigger than the mom-and-pop convenience stores close to the campgrounds we used to go to growing up.
But not full-sized either; it’s strange.
I wonder if they could make special orders, since they are local, like if I really wanted them to carry the steamed buns I like, could they do it?
I can order most stuff online, no matter where I live, but it’s probably gonna be really hard to find a good Asian market in the area, even more so to find some place that carries my favorite taro buns.
Oh, and those almond cookies I get from the market near the mall we sometimes go to during omega “field trips.” Not that I’ve been on one lately, without Teddy there and with Adam and Lily being holed up, it’s just not as fun to go.
I’m sure Greg would go for me and bring me back anything I want, but I don’t really need treats.
My body is so messed up that I have to work twice as hard to lose any calories I take in.
But having a steamed bun or a cookie every so often is ok.
All things in moderation, including moderation.
Mamá hates that saying, but it’s true. If I don’t get sugar every so often, I will go nuts and eat everything I can get my hands on, and it’s not like my beta would stop me.
...It’s not like I want him to, but sometimes having some extra willpower would be nice, when I want it…
not just randomly. I’d have to kick his ass for trying to take my food away if I really want it.
I can’t even ask him for help, because it would just stress him out trying to help me control my cravings when I sometimes don’t want them controlled.
We’re sitting on the side of the bed, watching Shaggy have the zoomies around the room.
You’d think he never got any playtime. I stare down at my stomach and the little bulge that’s formed there just from the last few days of being here and eating Sam’s cooking.
That man can cook, for real. Like holy shit.
They’re gonna have to roll me out of this house if this keeps up.
Still, it’s Thursday. We’re supposed to fly out again on Sunday, and I don’t want to.
It’s not just Teddy and his pack. Kelly is great, seriously, and as pissed as I was at Steve, it’s nice that he has no peace living here with the feisty beta. Tio Miguel would love her.
Sam is sweet, and his voice really does make me want to melt.
Paul is almost as good, but he never has the levels of affection that make Sam’s so divine.
Not that it’s aimed at me, but when he talks to Kelly or Teddy, you can hear how much he cares about them.
I’ve had to wipe a stupid grin off my face several times just at how much my bestie melts for his alpha.
I haven’t talked to Garret or Steve much.
The first is quiet most of the time, and seems to orbit around Kelly like she’s his entire universe, always touching her or just smiling like a lovesick fool in her general direction.
Steve vacillates between arguing with the beta and simping for the big alpha and omega.
He hasn’t been rude, we just don’t have much to talk about.
Which is probably for the best since I still hold the threat of beating him senseless if he hurts Teddy again.
It would be stupid to think about staying without considering the other alphas as well, mainly Spence.
I don’t know what it is about that man; he’s not mine, not like Greg or even John are mine.
He smells good, yeah. It reminds me of when I was young, before designations were so much of a thing, and I would watch my brothers and cousins play football in the backyard.
It’s not as if I was allowed to play with them; I was too little, even then. But even now, I still love to watch it.
Paul is sweet, but distant, almost forlorn, like something happened and he’s not sure if he’s allowed to be happy anymore—or maybe not sure how to be upbeat.
His scent is nice too, still not inherently mine, but like oak whiskey barrels.
Not as harsh as straight-up booze. There’s an underlying woody scent that mellows it out, and his generally laid-back demeanor reflects that.
Honestly, if Teddy hadn’t told me he was a cop, I never would have guessed.
He just seems so easygoing about everything.
Maybe that’s how he’s a good cop; he doesn’t take shit personally or get upset at people being dumbasses.
Of course, that’s speculation, and he may be a shitty police officer or an asshole when he’s not at home. But he doesn’t feel like that.
Fuck, I even like the mini alpha with the huge fucking chip on his shoulder.
He’s fun to tease, yeah, but he’s also smart as fuck—if pretentious.
Seriously, if he could manage to pull that stick out of his ass, he would probably be awesome.
His scent of roasted pecans doesn’t hurt anything either, though it does make me want to lick him.
And wouldn’t that just throw the little asshat for a loop?
He’s probably a lot more salty though, at least if his attitude is anything to go by.
My breath heaves out in a sigh, and Greg turns a questioning look my way.
I try to smile but it must not look right since he pulls me against his chest and kisses the top of my head.
“You ok, Sarah? How’s your…um…spikeyness?
” Fuck me, but this man is cute and I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles free, unbinding the knot in my chest. He pulls back so he can meet my eyes while waiting for the answer.
“It’s not—spiking, I mean. I feel fine. Tired and extra hungry.
Despite how much food I’m putting away. Look at my damned stomach.
This is gonna take weeks to lose, and gods help me if it’s still there when we see my family again.
You know Mamá will say something about it.
She can’t seem to help herself. I should probably skip lunch and just have a salad or something for dinner until we get back to the center and I can get back into my normal routine.
” His brows rise almost to his hairline with unasked questions.
“I’m sorry, Pretty Boy. I’m just feeling kind of down about myself right now.
I don’t know what happened all of a sudden, I just feel like a fat, lazy piece of shit. ”
The poor guy has dealt with some of my mood swings before, but not usually this bad, so he looks flabbergasted for a moment, his mouth opening like he wants to respond before snapping shut again, so I opt for putting him out of his misery.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Hell, I don’t think I did anything wrong.
I just…feel like a shit human being sometimes, ok.
It gets worse when something goes wrong, or I have to think about dealing with reactions that I know are gonna hurt.
I…I just don’t want to deal with it sometimes, and I’m sorry.
But you’re fine. I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong, I just feel bad about myself. It happens.”
His arms tighten around me, and his voice is muffled against the top of my head.
“You know I don’t think that, right? I love you just the way you are.
You could weigh five hundred pounds, and I would love every squishy little inch of you…
though I probably wouldn’t be able to pick you up as easily; I’d have to hit the gym a lot more. ”
His voice sounds pained. “I hate hearing you talk bad about yourself. I hate that anybody ever made you feel bad about yourself. You are wonderful, and amazing, and beautiful, and until you change your mind, you’re stuck with me.
So get used to having me as a cheering squad when you start feeling like this.
I’m gonna do everything I can to make sure you know how perfect you are.
” His body rocks back and forth, just holding me and comforting me and while my self-confidence is still lying in tatters on the floor, it does feel nice to have the cuddles.