Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
I’m a coward. When I realized Foster’s heat broke, I threw my stuff into a bag and fled before either he or his Alpha woke up. No note, no message waiting on their phones, just an empty suite.
“Hado me ayudas.” I let my head thump against the back of the couch in my studio and stare up at the paneled ceiling. What mess have I created in my heart? The chemistry was there, clearly expressed in every interaction. And I ran from it.
Why am I like this?
Glancing at my watch, I push the self-deprecating thoughts aside.
The work day is over, and I promised Mamá I would visit for dinner tonight.
Traffic between here and my childhood home could take hours, so I need to move my ass.
If I’m late, she’s going to kick my ass.
Stepping into the elevator, I fight to keep my face neutral when I see Bea leaning against the corner.
She’s a manager-in-training at the label, and worked in the production department for an internship before that.
Weariness leaks from her body, mellowing her pineapple-coconut scent.
“You good, Chica? Looks like you need a nap.”
Dark blue eyes flicker to me, and her lips twist into a scowl. “Fate fucking sucks.”
The aggression in her tone surprises me. She’s sassy and loud as fuck, but this maliciousness is new. “Oh?”
“Discovered I have another mate somewhere in the world,” she explains as we step into the parking garage. “Something I realized when the shared pain from their being tortured started.”
Well, shit, I have to agree. A Fated connection like that would be awful to live with.
Shared pain is one of the many types of connections, and one of the rarest. They literally share any major pain they experience, from broken limbs to giving birth.
Studies have been done on the limits of their connection, but there doesn’t seem to be an upward cap.
I cannot imagine being plagued by someone else’s pain.
Talk of Fated connections pulls my thoughts back to the Wilsons.
They are Fate-matched, too. Blessed with matching birthmarks, one of the simpler types.
And one I do not share. My worries over not fitting into a pack that shares a soul-deep connection are part of what drove me away after Foster’s heat.
“Sounds like you’ve been dealt a shitty hand,” I tell Bea when she stops behind my car.
“Right!” She trudges off, passing her empty parking spot. I lean against my trunk and watch her, wondering where she’s going. Surprise parts my lips when she climbs into the passenger seat of a sleek, black Lexus. Behind the wheel sits one of the label execs, Shiloh Acherley.
“Damn, Chica, get it,” I smother a grin as they drive past me and climb into the driver’s seat of my beat-up Subaru. She might not be a luxury, but she runs great and can hold me and all five of my siblings.
My childhood home is a white picket fence dream.
Flower beds overflow around the exterior, and crawling vines creep up the edges, bringing spots of color to the faded white paint.
Light spills from the large bay window, and the sage green front door swings open as soon as I open the gate.
“Mijo! Welcome home!” Mamá calls, waving me inside.
Marisol Alfaro is an Omega standing at five-foot-two with the aura of an Alpha. She’s terrifying if you don’t know how soft she is beneath the rough exterior. I wrap her in a tight hug, absorbing notes of her marigold and anise scent. “Hola, mamá. What’s for dinner?”
“Pambazos. I made extra to send back. You need to eat properly, not survive on takeout.” She pats my cheek, heading into the kitchen.
We pass the living room where two of my Alpha fathers are engrossed in old soccer footage.
Their obsession with the sport inspired my older brother’s career.
Lorenzo was a soccer prodigy in New York, gaining enough attention to be picked up by a professional team.
Now, he plays for the Peruvian national team.
He’s the pride of our family, though my parents do not favor one of us over the others.
I leave them be, not wanting to join their bickering. Even with games they’ve watched hundreds of times, they will spend the evening arguing over them.
“What eats at your heart, Mijo?” Mamá asks when I join her at the kitchen island. She’s donned a pale blue apron covered in tiny white flowers. A gift from my Omega father before he passed two years ago.
“I’m fine.”
She doesn’t buy my lie, aiming a wooden spoon at me and glaring. “Conozco tu corazón hijo. I can tell when something is bothering you. Tell me while you help prepare the filling.”
A plate of cooked potatoes and chorizo slides across the counter, and a masher is pressed into my hand.
This is where I spent my childhood. Working in the kitchen alongside Mamá and my abuela.
Laughter and love filled the kitchen. Music played in the background.
It’s what I’ve always wanted for myself.
“I helped another Omega through his heat last week,” I tell her, eyes trained on the plate.
The steady motion of breaking apart the potatoes and mixing them with the meat helps steady my thoughts.
“Being with them—him and his Alpha—was like… this.” I wave my hand around, careful to use the one not holding the masher.
Mamá hums. “They felt like home.”
“Yeah. But they’re Fate-matched mates. Ones with a pregnant female Beta and a little girl waiting for them at home.” Sure, their other mate’s scent rocked me as deeply as theirs did. That wouldn’t make me more than an outlier in their pack.
“You ran?” She scoffs when I nod, splashing salsa onto the counter when she dips the last piece of telera bread with too much strength. “Mijo, si corres te va a ir peor. So what if you don’t share a Fated-connection? If you wake up every day choosing each other, that is what matters.”
I want to deny what she says, but I feel it already. The heartache caused by our separation. Running away won’t make my feelings for Foster and Shepherd go away; it will only hurt my heart.
“Now that you’ve seen reason, go tell your papás we’re ready to eat. By the time they leave their chairs, I’ll have the pambazos finished.” She turns her back, leaving me to interrupt whichever game my fathers are watching.
After a warm meal and time with my parents, my heart feels fuller.
There is still a hole where a certain Alpha-Omega duo should be, but I feel more settled now than I did earlier.
“Come home again soon, Mijo,” Mamá tells me as I walk out to my car.
“And go find the man who owns your heart. I expect to meet him soon.”
Fear prevents me from opening my phone and messaging Pack Graves to find Foster’s contact information. It’s only been two days, so taking a few more to hype myself up won’t ruin everything. I hope.
I’m scrolling through the delivery app, trying to decide what to order for lunch, when my phone rings with a call from the label’s secretary. “Hello?” I answer, playing with a string hanging from the end of my sleeve.
“Manny, this is Jane from upstairs. There is a young man here to see you.” Rustling fills the line, and her voice gets quiet before she adds, “A young Omega.”
A male Omega is here to see me? At the label?
My hear races as I end our call and head to the elevator. I have assisted many Omegas, male and female, but none of them would bother to seek me out after. Except maybe him. Foster. But he has a pack, so surely it would be me reaching out, and not the other way around.
Anxiety swirls with hope, my foot tapping along the elevator floor as I wait for it to take me up one level. I think I might be sick. The stress of potentially being disappointed is too much to handle.
Ding! The doors open to the bright lobby, and my breath catches.
He’s here. Standing by Jane’s desk, dressed in dark skinny jeans and a tight black t-shirt.
His aquamarine eyes light up as he turns and sees me.
“Manny!” Brilliant lemon tart flows around him, too thick for the descenters to drown out before it reaches me.
He smells as delicious now as he did during his heat.
“Foster, what are you doing here?” His face falls, and I want to punch myself. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I’m just surprised to see you.”
He gives me a coy look as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Shepherd told me you work here. I hope that’s okay. I wanted to see you. Take you to lunch? If you’re free.”
“Yeah, I-that sounds great. I was going to order in, but we can go out and grab something. I don’t see another band until three.”
Which gives me two hours to figure out what chaos Fate has thrown in my path.
“Perfect! We won’t go far, and I’ll make sure you are back well before your next appointment.
Promise!” He presses the button for the elevator and steps dangerously close to me, fingers brushing against mine.
I swallow thickly, heart pounding against my chest. I feel like a teenager going on his first date: sweaty and on the verge of puking.
The ride down is quiet and a little awkward, but as we walk out onto the street, the late September air filling our lungs, it seems to fade away. “Would you prefer to drive or walk? It’s a few blocks away.” Foster stops, waiting for my answer.
“Let’s walk. Enjoy the sunshine.”
Crowds thicken on the sidewalks the closer we get to the shopping district, forcing us apart as hurried businessmen push between us.
I jolt when a warm hand wraps around mine, but a glance tells me it belongs to Foster.
He has to feel how sweaty my palm is, but he doesn’t pull away.
Instead, his grip tightens, and his fingers thread with mine.
“Sorry, I forgot how busy Starburgh gets around lunchtime. Gives me a reason to hold your hand, too.” He gives me a cheeky grin, emotion swirling in his sparkling, jewel-toned eyes.
The restaurant he leads me into is rustic and masculine, with light wood tables and metal chairs.
Old bar signs cover the walls, and a long bar runs down the left, with tall bench-stools for patrons to sit on.
Around us, people eat a variety of foods.
American-style tacos, pizza, and burgers.
It’s a well-rounded mix, and a great pick for lunch when we aren’t sure of each other’s food preferences.
“I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure where to take you to eat, but this place has everything. Including my favorite food—pizza.” His stomach rumbles loudly, backing up his excitement. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Picarones. They’re Peruvian donuts. My abuela is originally from Peru, and she taught all her grandkids how to make them.
We spent weekend mornings in the kitchen making batches large enough to feed a high school football team.
” I can still smell the scent of the oil and sweet potato blended with her cinnamon sugar.
A server arrives to take our drink orders, so I turn my attention to the menu.
It’s impossible to focus when my eyes are drawn to every small movement Foster makes.
Shifting in his seat, flipping his menu, his foot bumping mine.
My instincts are too attuned to his needs for my own good, because sensing his nervousness amplifies my own.
We both order pizzas. Mine loaded with veggies; his with meat and cheese.
“Why did you leave?” He asks suddenly, hurt woven through every word.
Warmth flushes my skin, and I find myself unable to meet his eyes. ‘Because I am a coward’ is what I want to say, but the words won’t pass my lips. “Because your heat was over.”
His lips purse, and his eyes wrinkle at the corners, not quite narrowing his eyes on me.
“Look, Manny, I’m going to be completely honest with you.
It gutted me when I realized you had left.
” I flinch, guilt churning in my stomach.
“What happened between us during the heat… I thought we had a connection. Did you not feel the same? Because this can be a one-off. A way to say thanks for the help, and then I’ll leave you alone. ”
“I felt it, too,” I admit quietly.
“But?”
Breathing deep, I catch hints of his lemon scent and force my fears past my lips. “You have a Fate-matched pack, with kids and a pregnant partner. I can’t be a square peg forcing myself to fit into a round hole.”
He leans across the table and takes my hands in his, holding them between us. “There’s nothing to force. You fit with us. Not just me, but Shepherd too. And Hannah… well, her situation is complicated, but I know she will be as enamored with you as we are. If you give her the chance.”
Can I take that leap? Try to find forever with an already formed pack? A family?
‘Si corres te va a ir peor.’ Mamá’s words come back to me as I stare at Foster’s and my entwined hands. Running will only make the pain worse. What-ifs will plague me for years to come.
“Okay.” My acceptance is met with the most brilliant smile I’ve ever seen. It melts my heart, leaving a puddle of goop that is ready to be remolded into something new.
Lunch is spent enjoying amazing food and getting to know each other without sex involved.
An undercurrent of desire still pulses between us, but that’s natural with an Omega.
They are carnal beings. Foster walks me back to the label, but doesn’t follow me inside.
“Thank you for letting me take you to lunch. I’ll text you later, and we can plan another date.
This is the beginning of our courtship, Beta. Got it?”
I nod, lips twitching into a soft grin. “Understood, Omega.”
He leans over and brushes his lips against mine. Once. Twice. A soft touch meant to tease things to come, and then he walks away. I stand and stare after him for far too long. Only when he disappears into the parking garage next door do I shake myself out of the stupor and head back to work.
Today has been unexpected, but amazing. So much hope fills my heart that it drowns out the thread of caution warning me to hold myself back.