Chapter Twenty-Five – Bradford
The next morning, I take my coffee outside, on the back patio, something I haven’t done in a long, long time.
The sun is bright on the horizon as it rises, with hardly a cloud in the sky.
It’s a peaceful morning, although it’s rendered a little less peaceful thanks to the person that has been on my mind so much lately it’s been affecting my sleep.
Normally I don’t sleep that well, never have. Never been blessed with that talent. Lately it’s been worse. I can’t seem to shut my mind off. Going through my nightly meditations doesn’t help, and chamomile tea doesn’t help, either. Nothing helps when the person on my mind is Kayla.
Everything I learned about her. Everything she’s probably been through in her life. The things I shared with her. We have more in common than most, though she doesn’t know the extent of my father’s anger.
She’s an omega who needs help. I’m not the kind of man who extends olive branches or life rafts. I’m the one who steers the boat away while you’re trying to get back on, or so that’s what I’ve been taught to do since I was young.
But I know now: I’m not like my father. I may have idolized him when I was younger, through the pain, but now I’m beginning to see clearly. The fog is lifting, and I believe I owe it to Kayla and the way she makes me feel.
Maybe, I hate to admit, I owe it a little to Hayden, too. He might not work for my father—I don’t really know who exactly he’s working for—but he’s helped me more than he knows, been there for Kayla when I couldn’t be. He’s not a bad guy.
I sigh to myself as I watch the sunrise and sip my coffee.
Maybe it was due to the fact that both Kayla and Hayden poked fun at me for wearing a suit yesterday, but this morning I opted for slacks and a long-sleeved shirt.
The shirt is still buttoned up to my neck and tucked neatly into the waistband of my pants, complete with a leather belt, but there’s no suit jacket and no tie. Progress, right?
My mug is long since empty when I hear the patio door open. Someone else steps outside. I get a whiff of roe and almonds, but it’s mixed with something else, something that’s a bit muddied, and I don’t need to look over my shoulder to see who it is.
It’s not Kayla, even if it sort of smells like her.
“I thought I saw you out here,” Hayden says, coming to sit near me.
He pulls up a chair from a nearby table, angling it toward the sunrise.
It’s mostly up, now. Nothing really spectacular to see.
“But I didn’t see a suit, so I thought I better check it out and make sure no one was trying to sneak in. ”
With a shake of my head, I say, “Will you ever let that go?” I’m wearing gray slacks and a dark gray button-down tucked into the waistband of said pants.
“The way you say it makes it sound like I’ve been ragging on your clothing choice for years. Give us some time, I’m sure we can get there.”
I move my gaze off the distance and look at him.
He stares straight ahead, leaning back in the chair comfortably, as if he’s waiting for me to bring up the fact that he smells like Kayla.
It’s strong, but it’s not that strong—I don’t think they were together in that way, but perhaps they got up to some other things.
Seems a bit early, but then again, what do I know when it comes to matters of the heart and the passion that comes with it?
I know nothing about either of those things, and that is what’s been weighing so heavily on me lately. I’m well aware I’m a pathetic excuse for an alpha, and now that I met Kayla and have started to want certain things…
It’s all a painful reminder of how inadequate I am.
“How is Kayla doing?” I settle for asking that question, figuring it’s an easy way to change the topic of conversation to her without sounding too accusatory. Can’t forget: I told them both to go for it. I have no right to be upset or jealous.
And I’m not. I’m not angry or envious about anything they might’ve done. Do I wish that I could’ve been there? Of course, but at the same time, what would I have done other than watch? That’s an awkward thing to bring up, especially to two people who were not in my life eight days ago.
A week. It’s been one fucking week, and everything has turned upside-down.
Hayden smiles to himself, and I can tell just by the easiness of that smile he’s not here to use her or hurt her.
No, a man only smiles like that when he’s lost, completely and utterly gone.
“She’s doing good. I think she’s finally starting to accept her omega nature.
I’ll be curious to see if she starts nesting hard today, or if she turns ravenous.
Things are happening so fast.” He meets my stare.
“If she goes into heat—you’re aware she won’t be able to work, right? ”
“Neither will you, I imagine.”
He looks away, but he doesn’t try to argue. Why would he work when she’s lost to her heat? He’ll be right there with her, helping her through it, doing whatever he can to alleviate the pain inside her. He’ll do everything I can’t.
Now that… that makes me a little envious.
“You’re not wrong,” Hayden eventually says. “For what it’s worth, I think she’d be super fucking happy if I wasn’t the only one helping her through her heat.”
I want to, of course I do. It’s more than I could’ve said about myself before, but at the same time… nothing has changed. I’m still me. “I can’t.”
He doesn’t push me on it, thankfully. He does get up and say, “Did you eat anything? I’m thinking of trying my hand at scrambled eggs. I’m no master at it, but I think the protein would be good for all of us.”
I know what he’s not saying: the protein would be good for all of us in case you change your mind. I’m not going to, but I suppose it’s nice of him to include me regardless.
“I could go for scrambled eggs,” I say, slow to get up with him. I need a refill on the coffee, anyway. Might as well go in to oversee said scrambled eggs. If he so much as burns them, I’m going to return the jesting. He’s not the only one who can poke fun.
Hayden and I go to the kitchen. He pulls out everything he’ll need to make the eggs, along with the plates for when the eggs are done.
After pouring myself a cup, I watch him.
The way he acts, you’d think he was living here permanently, that this is simply his kitchen. The man has made himself at home.
His timing ends up being perfect, because right as he’s separating the scrambled eggs onto three plates, Kayla appears with a yawn. She shuffles into the kitchen and gets herself a glass of water before she sits at the island and rubs her eyes.
I smell her immediately, that alluring almond-tinted scent of hers, dominated by rose petals.
It’s the same smell I got off Hayden, only from the source.
Though there is a good ten or twelve feet between us, her scent is strong, overpowering, the kind of scent that instantly brings to my mind certain thoughts and desires.
It’s terribly difficult to resist those desires, but I manage. I stay right where I am as I say, “Good morning.”
Kayla sends me a coy smile before she buries herself in that glass. Doesn’t work as well as it would have if it was a coffee mug; I can see right through the crystal glass and the water inside it, so I’m able to see the heat creeping up her cheeks.
She’s blushing. It’s not the first time I’ve seen her blush, but it is the first time I wonder what the rest of her looks like when she blushes like that. Does every inch of her get as pink as those cheeks? Certainly an inappropriate thought if ever there was one.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her as Hayden grabs a fork and brings her the plate of eggs, telling her to eat up.
She carefully picks up the fork and stabs some of the eggs.
At least she’s eating without putting up a fight.
“Okay. Still a little tired. I am hungry, though. Like, really, really hungry.” She brings the egg-covered fork to her mouth, but before she takes her first bite, she has a lightbulb moment.
“Has anyone ever mixed chocolate and eggs together?”
Hayden and I glance at each other. It’s Hayden who says, “Uh, I have no idea. Why? You want chocolate chips mixed with your eggs?” Based on the way he says it, it’s clear he thinks the combination is wretched, and I am inclined to agree.
Chocolate and eggs? Dear God, no. Never. There are some things in this world that should never be put together, and those items are two of them.
“I don’t know,” she says. “It might be good.”
Hayden takes his plate and a fork and goes to sit next to her, leaving mine on the counter next to the stove. I’m fine with eating while standing, so I take my plate to the opposite side of the island—mostly so I can watch her.
Chocolate and eggs. A combination like that shouldn’t ever be spoken of. It’s very suspicious. If she’s craving the two things combined, it has to mean her body is rapidly approaching a heat.
After four years of starvation, her body is raring to go, apparently.
“Well, why don’t you eat that, and then if you’re still hungry, I can look for some chocolate in this house and see if I can’t whip you up another batch of scrambled eggs,” Hayden pauses, “with chocolate this time.” He has to shove a forkful into his mouth just to stop himself from gagging when he says it.
Yeah. There are some things you just never think of during your life, and combining eggs and chocolate is one of them. Fruit? Okay, that’s understandable. Nuts and popcorn? It’s a good contrast. But eggs and chocolate? Yuck.
Kayla devours everything on her plate, acting ravenous, as if she hasn’t eaten in days. She finishes her plate long before I finish mine, and I offer her what’s left on mine without saying a word, silently pushing it over the island toward her. To my shock, she actually takes it and eats it.
Oh, yes. She’s definitely putting away the calories.