3. Casey
THREE
Casey
Casey
After a long day at work, Marshall picked me up in his car, and we left the city behind. The towering skyscrapers soon gave way to a quiet highway surrounded by forest.
“How’s your project going?” he asked, almost startling me after our prolonged silence.
“Oh, uhh…” With the remnants of my heat still coursing through me, not to mention feeling nauseous over where we were headed, I could only focus on the passing trees. “We got our permits finished. We’ll be doing a mural for the old bakery on twelfth street next week.”
As he drove, Marshall’s hand slipped around the back of my neck and he gently massaged my pheromone center.
The slight touch of his fingers pressing against the most sensitive part of my body eased my tense limbs.
An Alpha’s scent would’ve had the same effect on me, but Marshall’s woodsy pheromones weren’t strong enough to help.
“What are you doing?” I asked, giving him a slight smile when he glanced at me. He wasn’t usually this touchy feely, not even when we were in bed.
“Just trying to make sure you’re relaxed. I don’t want you to feel any anxiety over this trip. You took your inhibitors this morning, right?”
It was such a mundane thing we did every day, I wasn’t surprised he didn’t notice when I took them. “Yes. I never go without my pills.”
“Good. My dad has a powerful scent. It’s difficult for him to suppress it, and I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed when you meet him.” Our eyes met across the car for a moment before Marshall turned back to the road, a smile spreading between us. He was so kind and attentive.
“You always take care of me,” I praised.
He gave my neck a little squeeze. “And I always will.”
It helped to hear how much he cared. No matter what his family thought of me, I had to believe that wouldn’t change. They’d probably have something to say about an omega who couldn’t have children, but we would get through it. Together.
I held onto that thought as we drove, when we stopped to re-fuel, and when I saw the sign as we reached the city limits.
Welcome to Oakridge.
We went from the highway to a small town within seconds.
It was so different from our fast-paced life in Hanford.
There were no skyscrapers, no subways, or city buses.
I wasn’t even sure if they had taxis here.
Everything looked aged but well kept, even the cars parked on the street.
The old brick buildings matched the red brick streets.
There were so many trees, I almost couldn’t see the sky.
The further we went, the more quaint it became.
“You grew up in this place?” I asked. My mouth dropped open as I spotted a little bakery beside a bookstore.
So cute. He told me where he was from, but had said nothing about the town itself.
Quaint didn’t feel like enough to describe it.
Charming. Picturesque. As if we’d stepped into a photo on Pinterest.
“Yep,” Marshall confirmed. He lazily steered the car with one hand, the other lay across my shoulders.
“It’s not a bad town to live in. There’s hardly any crime.
The school is all in one building, from elementary to high school.
We could run anywhere we wanted without being afraid someone would snatch us.
My brother and I would stay out until dusk, just playing by the creek. ”
It all sounded so perfect. And yet, he’d still moved away. I couldn’t imagine leaving a town like this.
“What made you come to Hanford?”
He turned away from me, his smile faltering for a moment as the tree shadows passed over his face. “Oakridge is a great place to grow up. It’s not so great once you’re done growing. There’s no opportunities here. Not the kind I wanted, at least.”
I saw his point. I doubted Oakridge had any need for street artists like me. Not to mention medical school for Marshall. I wondered if this town was even big enough to have a hospital.
We passed a cluster of restaurants and antique stores in the town square. The courthouse was smaller than our apartment building. You could buy your car tags, get divorced, and show up for jury duty all in the same place.
Only a few blocks away from downtown was a quiet neighborhood with more picturesque homes. Marshall pulled over in front of a charming two-story cottage. As excited as I was by the cute wooden trellis and the flowers in the window boxes, seeing that house dumped a cold bucket of water over my head.
I was meeting his family.
Marshall got out and opened the trunk to grab his bags from the back of the car. I had to force my hand to open my door and compel my legs to hold my weight as I got out. My knees shook when I walked to the back of the car and took my suitcase from the trunk.
Marshall was already on the front porch, digging in his pocket for the key. Were they here already, his dad and brother? I glanced at the empty driveway. The garage was closed, but they could’ve parked inside.
“Mar…” I started to say, but he was already unlocking the front door and walking inside the house.
No backing out now. This was happening.
Following him inside, I stepped into the bright living room.
The furniture looked equal parts rustic cottage and summer bungalow.
There were so many plants, from the little planters dotting the windowsills and the pots decorating every corner.
Big ones, and tiny ones. Plants hanging from the ceiling.
Thick tropical plants beside the couch. It was green on every surface.
The home felt warm and simple, almost too perfect for a bachelor Alpha.
There wasn’t even a dirty hoodie on the couch.
My nose was already trying to pick up any scents in the house. Nothing. It was almost like no one lived here. But the folded newspaper on the coffee table and a mug beside it said otherwise. Even that felt placed, as if someone had set them there to take a picture.
“I think my brother already came to clean up,” Marshall’s voice called from around the corner.
I crossed the living room, and a kitchen appeared from behind the wall.
Just as homey and cottage-like as the living room, as if it came out of a catalogue.
Marshall popped up beside me, pulling his bag over one shoulder. “Come on. My room is upstairs.”
His room. Right. I’d be sleeping in the same room as him. Not that we didn’t do that at home, but at his dad’s house it was so much more… intimate. A blatant signal to everyone that we did more than sleep in the same bed. I might as well wear a neon sign that said, ‘I'm having sex with your son.’
Marshall led me up a flight of stairs to the second floor. There were four doors up here, and he tilted his suitcase towards each one in turn. “Bathroom. Brother’s room.”
“He lives here? I thought he was older than you.”
“Technically, no, he has his own place, but my dad is a better cook, and my brother usually passes out from a food coma after dinner.” The suitcase pointed to the last room on the left. “My dad’s room.” He turned to the last door on the opposite side of the hallway. “And my room.”
I turned the handle and went inside. I expected Marshall’s room to feel like stepping back in time, a window into his youth with band posters and pictures of celebrities he crushed over, but I was disappointed to find it had the same charm and decor as the rest of the house.
The childhood charm had been removed. “No posters?” I asked, glancing up at the ceiling in case I had missed one. “Not even a basketball trophy?”
Marshall chuckled under his breath and dropped his bags onto the bedspread.
It was softer than our towels at home. “I took everything with me. Besides…” He paused, his fingers gripping the zipper on his suitcase.
“My dad would’ve just packed it all up. He doesn’t like stuff on the walls that aren't photos of plants.” Marshall turned away, his entire focus on the clothes in his bag.
There was definitely more to that story.
Maybe it had something to do with why the house looked so…
staged. He took his things out and put them in the dresser by the door, then turned back to me and gestured towards the bottom drawers. “Dresser.”
“You know only psychopaths unpack their clothes during a trip, right?”
A familiar glint in his eye made me gulp when he approached and slipped his arm around my waist. “I could do it for you. And then we’d have more time for other things.”
“Mar…” The word died on my lips, replaced with a deep hiss when he leaned down and kissed my neck. “Marshall. We’re in your dad’s house.”
“And he’s not home yet,” he reminded me. His lips slowly kissed a path up to my ear. Knowing the house was empty, I almost said yes. But I’d rather jump off a cliff than get caught with my pants down when his family came home.
“Later,” I whispered, and gently captured his lips for a kiss.
He relented with a loving sigh before stepping away to stash his empty bags in the closet. “I’m going to start dinner. If I don’t do it now, my dad will take over, and I want tonight to be special.” He gave my head a little kiss and left the bedroom. “Feel free to wander around.”
Wander around? In this picturesque cottage that didn’t even have dirty socks lying on the floor? I’d mess it up just by breathing. But I had time to kill and nothing else to do, so exploring was the only option, I suppose.
The brother’s door was slightly open. I peeked down the stairs, catching a small glimpse of the kitchen.
Marshall was preoccupied with something by the sink.
My curiosity got the better of me, and I stepped close enough to peek inside his brother’s room.
The bedroom appeared almost identical to Marshall’s, but ah!
Dirty socks on the floor! The bedspread was neatly arranged on the bed, but it was just a tad crooked, giving the room an even more imperfect feeling.
There was a small picture frame on the nightstand, and I could just make out three people in it, two of them child sized. A family photo, taken after their mom died, I guessed. As I tried to get closer, a loud noise came from the kitchen, and I quickly left the room before I was caught.
“Snooping?”
I tried not to jump when Marshall’s voice was suddenly at the bottom of the stairs. He’d put on an apron, and there were flecks of flour all over his hands. “No. Maybe.”
He chuckled and wiped his hands on the apron as he came up the steps. “Wouldn’t blame you if you were.”
“This just happened so fast, Marsh. I don’t even know their names.”
“I know. I figured ripping the bandaid off would be easier. Less time for you to dread it and try to back out.” He had me there. Marshall slowly closed the space between us and slid his hands up my shoulders, clasping them behind my neck. “My brother’s name is David.”
A timer buzzed in the kitchen, and Marshall bent to give me a quick kiss before running to check on dinner.
I followed him downstairs and found those gorgeous wooden countertops full of bowls and ingredients.
He was making lamb chops with a potato dish on the side, and a fresh salad.
Two bottles of wine sat on the raised counter by a row of bar stools.
With Marshall busy rolling the potatoes in a seasoned flour mixture, I plucked a bottle opener from the counter and started screwing it into one bottle. One glass before dinner would help calm my nerves. Or it would’ve if the bottle hadn’t spilled all over me when I got the cork out. Yay.
“Damn it. I’m so sorry, Marsh.”
Marshall rushed over to grab the bottle from me and licked the remaining droplets off the side. “No worries. Go get cleaned up, babe. I got this.” He was already grabbing something to wipe up the floor. “Use my dad’s bathroom. He keeps the good towels there.”
“Be right back.” And I rushed upstairs to get changed before his family came home.