2. Ulysses #3
Crew nodded absently as he wrung his hands.
“Yeah, I know, but it doesn’t make it easier when you watch everyone else find their pack and fall for their Omega.
LouLou doesn’t think I know what it’s like to have my heart broken or feel rejected, but in reality, I know far better than most. She and I are alike in the world, viewing us as people to be passed over. ”
“Wait! What?” I snapped. “She thinks that about herself?”
He lifted his head and looked at me. “Why do you think I called you here? I’m really, really, fucking worried, Lys. I’ve never seen her this down before.”
“Do you think there’s something else going on besides the breakup?” I questioned.
“Fuck if I know,” Crew said, tossing up his arms in defeat.
“It was like pulling teeth to get her to talk to me the last time. Lou knows I won’t force her to pull her shit together, which is why you’re the perfect person for the job.
You’ve always had a way of handling her firmly but not being a dick. ”
I frowned at that. “I’m not sure if that was a compliment or not.”
“It was, I assure you. As a man who is weak to the whims of his baby sister, I am amazed by your skills in LouLou wrangling,” he explained as he stood. “Speaking of which, we should probably make that happen so you can get to dinner with your parents.”
“How did you know I was going to dinner with my parents?” I asked, following him down the hall to the back set of stairs, which were closer to Rose’s room.
“Oh, that… I was on the phone with Eli when I mentioned you were going to stop by. He commented that your father told him about dinner and not to make you late,” Crew answered.
I chuckled, knowing how thrilled my parents were that I was home. Being their only child, they were happy for me to spread my wings but were still happier to have me back. “This shouldn’t take that long, and if it doesn’t go well, I think they’ll understand if I explain.”
Crew stopped at the end of the hall where the double doors to her room stood. “I’ll warn you… this place is a war zone.”
“Seriously, you’re one to talk,” I teased, remembering the state of disaster his room was in growing up. “Stop stalling. If she gets mad, it will be at me, not her precious big brother.”
Without knocking, he twisted the handle and pushed in the door, waving for me to go ahead.
After stepping into the room, it was hard to see much in the soft glow from the strings of what appeared to be Christmas lights.
The main lights flicked on, and I was standing in the middle of a pastel explosion.
I couldn’t help but smile as I saw morose self-portraits and other various representations of Rose’s mood littering any flat surface.
Food and candy wrappers littered the floor, mostly centered around the full-length mirror where her paints were set up.
Looking past the clutter and pain she was clearly in, I noticed the feel of the room.
Everything was soft—in color, touch, and appearance.
This was the most Bailey-Rose atmosphere I could have ever imagined.
It was all female but had a gentle elegance to it so as not to make it feel childish.
Rosie had always had an artistic eye, which was clear in her chosen color scheme and how the furniture flowed in the space.
The room’s main focus was the large bed covered in pillows and various stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes.
I almost couldn’t make out the lump that was our mopey little Omega until she shifted under the covers. Rose let out a disgruntled sound followed by muffled irritation. “Go away, Crew.”
Now that I knew where she was hiding, I strolled over to the bed, grabbed a fistful of the lilac comforter, and yanked it back.
She was all tangled up in her favorite giant octopus that I swore never to tell anyone she slept with every night.
Looking up at me sleepily with her dual-colored eyes and colorful hair all mussed was my Bailey-Rose.
The next thing I knew, there was a squeak of surprise, and I was purring loudly with my face tucked against her neck as I balled her up on my lap.
My senses were flooded with the heady sweet scent of rose when it first opened after a day of rain.
The tart, bright notes of black cherry followed, balancing out the sweetness of the rose but not overpowering it.
Both scents blended effortlessly into the perfect combination that had me nuzzling against her, wanting to bathe in her scent.
“Lysse?” I heard her say, her voice just as I remembered it—musical and soft like a fairy. It matched the blue and purple hues she’d dyed her hair, only adding to the logic that she was, in fact, magical.
Not even bothering to lift my head, I answered her, “Yeah, little Rosie, it’s me…” using all the willpower I possessed, I lifted my head and looked into her wide, shocked eyes, “… and you’re my scent matched Omega.”
At that statement, her jaw dropped. Seconds later, the sound of her heart rate monitor snapped me out of my scent-induced haze. I fumbled for her wrist, panic spiking through my chest.
No, please, God. I just found her.