Chapter Five
Gwyn
I rubbed my temples, the pounding between them the only thing I could focus on. I’d been woken up far too early by the screeching of the kids across the street as they headed to their school bus, and my body immediately let me know it was in too much pain to go back to sleep.
Apparently sleeping on the floor after getting wasted was a bad idea. Especially in your forties.
Who knew?
Groaning, I straightened from where I’d slumped on the counter, reaching for my coffee mug. I still sported the stain from spilling the cup I’d poured for Carl because I hadn’t been able to muster up the energy for the walk home to change. There was so much that needed to be done, yet I couldn’t find the desire to do any of it despite the anxiety that I was falling behind fluttering in my belly.
The vibration of my phone pulled my attention to another problem I was still ignoring. The missed calls and messages were adding up, but I didn’t know how to respond to the questions I knew I would find there. I couldn’t tell the truth, so that left me too twisted up to even look at them.
I gulped my coffee, the bitter flavor of the strong brew coated my tongue, and the tepid temperature making me grimace as I swallowed. If anything could make the day worse, it was room-temperature coffee. Especially when I’d run out of creamer to make the unpleasant crap more palatable.
“What are you doing, Gwyn?”
My voice was the only noise within the building, and while I used to crave quiet when my boys were little, now it was a weight threatening to drag my mood down even further.
“Music will help.”
Nodding to myself, I searched for my phone, finally finding it by the hole where the sink should have been. Despite working on the place for a month, there didn’t seem to be anything to show for it, and the lack of progress was part of the reason for my crappy mood.
Finding a song to play, I turned the volume all the way up and set my mug back on the counter. I’d emptied the place of the garbage that had been left behind by the previous owners and the years of sitting empty, and I’d sanded the peeling paper from the walls of the dining room in preparation for painting. The greasy kitchen walls were now spotless, but I wasn’t happy with the plain white. If I was going to be spending most of my time there, I wanted something less clinical, but I couldn’t start painting until I got the old cabinets out of the way.
I hefted the crowbar from where I’d left it standing in the corner, a grin spreading despite the way my body ached. Whoever had built the place had put in standard kitchen cabinets and counters, the cheap particleboard scratched and warped to the point that I had no choice but to replace it. I preferred the stainless steel found in commercial kitchens anyway, so demolishing what was there sounded like a great way to work out my frustrations.
I was sweating and heaving for breath by the time I’d loosened the countertops from the wall, the satisfying crack of the glue giving way soothing my omega. The cabinets had a few screws I had to remove, but once those were gone, they got the same treatment with the crowbar. I had to throw my whole weight against the metal to break the cabinets loose, but standing back and finally seeing an obvious difference in the room had my chest filling with enough pleasure to drown the discomfort of my body. I’d left the cabinet around where the sink was supposed to be, too scared of damaging the pipes to mess with that part, but the rest was ready to be hauled out.
High on my accomplishment I turned around, my shoulders sinking as I took in the sight before me. The kitchen door was far too narrow for me to drag the cabinets through. They’d have to go out through the dining room and the double doors in the front, which were still boarded shut.
Sighing, I scrubbed a hand over my face, deciding I’d done enough for the morning. My stomach was grumbling at me, and I still needed to go to the store, but I’d have to change out of my sweaty, stained shirt to do that.
It was habit to glance at the parking lot of The Hangout as I stepped outside. Despite knowing it was too early for it to be open yet, I found myself disappointed when the lot was empty. I couldn’t even lie to myself and say it was because I was hoping to apologize to David for whatever had happened when he’d tried to walk me home since I was looking for motorcycles, not an old pickup truck.
Carl had hung around after telling me about the roof, opening and closing the door to the back over and over. I’d heard him muttering to himself, but I’d hidden in the dining room, pretending to sweep the floor I’d already cleaned the night before. Eventually he’d called out that he was leaving and would be back later to take care of the roof, and while the door was still hard to open and close, it wasn’t sticking to the point where I had to ram it with my shoulder to get it open.
The walk home was nice, a cool breeze drying the sweat I’d built up, and while it was tempting to hop in the shower instead of just changing my shirt, I had more to do and would only need another later. I slapped some peanut butter on bread once I’d given myself a quick spray of scent neutralizer and was back out the door in a matter of minutes to catch the bus.
Public transportation was new to me and still made me nervous. Despite living in the Slums, we’d always had our own vehicle, and I’d never been allowed to go anywhere alone. The first time I’d had to take the bus I’d almost puked on the steps from anxiety.
It wasn’t just being trapped in a small space with strangers, with alphas , but also the fear of not getting off at the right place and getting lost. I’d almost changed my mind about leaving the car to my boys, but I hadn’t wanted to keep anything that reminded me of Anthony.
I tried to pull my thoughts back from that path as I sat on the hard plastic and braced myself, but they refused to be derailed. No matter how hard I tried to forget him, he just wouldn’t leave me in peace. I could hear his mocking laugh echoing in my head, telling me everything I had was thanks to him, but I’d lose it all because I was too stupid to do anything on my own.
Clenching my teeth brought back the headache that had faded, but the pain helped me push away the cruel voice that haunted me. Anthony had ruined the first half of my life, but I was determined not to let him ruin the remainder of it.
I started listing the things I needed, trying to estimate how much this trip was going to cost me. I had no idea how much the tarps Carl had said I needed would be, and I was tempted to take him up on the idea of getting painter’s plastic instead since I needed that anyway. Seeing the price tag on the smallest tarp at the store cinched the decision, and I got myself a bucket of paint with the difference in cost, excitement over finally getting to paint keeping me focused until I climbed off the bus at the corner by my café.
Spotting David’s truck in the lot next door told me it was later than I’d thought it was, but I didn’t care about the time. That was one thing I’d grown to appreciate since moving. I could make my own schedule and not have to worry about disrupting anyone else.
A spike of loneliness dug into my gut, but I shook it off as I set the paint and bags by the door to fish out my keys. My fingers ached from carrying the heavy bucket of paint after spending the morning wielding the crowbar, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I wanted the white in the kitchen gone, and I was going to get the first coat of fresh color on before the night was through.
I’d barely gotten started on the first wall when a bang on the outer door startled me, making me drop the paintbrush I’d been using to do the edging before I broke out the roller. Swiping my hair out of my face, I looked around for my crowbar, the tightness in my chest easing as I spotted it leaning in the corner closest to the door.
“Gwyn, it’s me.”
Carl’s gruff voice was muffled, but the last of the tension melted away. The alpha had somehow managed to slip past my defenses in the single day I’d known him, my instincts calming with the knowledge it was him on the other side and not some random stranger.
Flipping the lock, I opened the door, squinting up at the looming form on the other side. His smokey-sweet scent filled my lungs, making my core clench as I tried to find my voice.
“Hi.”
My brain didn’t want to work, leaving me standing in the doorway staring at the way his lips tipped up on one side. They were a shade of pink women would pay to have, and part of me wondered if they were as soft as they looked, or if his kiss would be hard and demanding.
“Did you get the tarps?”
It took a moment for his words to penetrate, and I had to shake myself out of the daze I’d fallen into, swallowing hard to be able to speak.
“I got the painter’s plastic instead. I needed it anyway, and you said it would work.”
I’d started to curl in on myself, old habits coming back when I thought I was disappointing someone, but Carl’s tone was soothing as he responded.
“That’s fine. It’ll last through the weekend, and I’ll get the roof fixed first thing Tuesday.”
I sucked in a shuddering breath, s’mores filling my lungs again and loosening muscles gone tight. I hated that I was conditioned to fear alphas, but it would take longer than I’d had to unlearn what I’d been taught over more than forty years. Not all alphas were abusive, but enough of them were that I wasn’t the only omega who reacted defensively towards them.
Nodding, I peeled my gaze off the ground where it had dropped, trying to think of where I’d left the bag with the supplies.
“It’s in here. Somewhere.”
Carl followed me into the kitchen, whistling when he saw the broken cabinets standing in the middle of the floor.
“You’ve been busy. Want me to get these out of the way?”
Opening my mouth, the words caught in my throat as I turned to see Carl gripping one of the chunks of cabinets, casually jerking the countertop off and setting it aside before folding the cheap particleboard in on itself as if it was nothing more than cardboard.
I might have drooled.
In my panties.
“Umm, sure. Thanks.”
I was breathing hard again, but it had nothing to do with physical labor, although the me in my head was getting a workout. It was impossible not to think about what the big man could do to me with all the coiled power he displayed so causally.
It was difficult to drag my eyes away from him, but I could scent my own slick in the air, and I needed to get myself under control. I didn’t know what it was about him, but Carl seemed to kick my ovaries into overdrive, and I didn’t want to end up acting like a hormonal omega panting after her first knot.
“Here they are.”
I stooped to snatch the package of painter’s plastic from the shopping bag I’d left on the floor, looking up in time to catch Carl staring at my ass. He didn’t seem to feel guilty over being caught, shooting me a grin like some schoolboy found with his hand in the cookie jar, playing innocent.
I’d let him stick his hand in my cookie jar.
Slapping duct tape over my mental mouth before it managed to get something equally horrifying through my lips, I followed him out as he lugged the cabinet and countertop as if they were nothing.
“Just toss them by the ladder while I get this in the dumpster. I’ll clear the rest of the cabinets out before dealing with the roof.”
The old, rusted dumpster was at the back of the property, and I’d worried over how to dispose of the cabinets since I hadn’t thought they would fit in it, but Carl had no trouble tossing the scraps over the top, the thud reverberating through the parking lot. Garbage was only picked up once a week, and even broken down the cabinets would take up a lot of space, but I didn’t have anything else to throw out that wouldn’t fit until then. The dumpster actually seemed a bit excessive, but I didn’t know how much garbage a café would produce, so I was hesitant to have the city take it away and replace it with something smaller just yet.
I forced myself to head back inside once Carl turned and started coming my way again, going back to my painting, although I was watching him more than what I was doing. He wasn’t even breathing hard by the time he got to the last chunk, ripping it apart like he had the rest and toting it outside.
“I should have let him rip it out. He’d have gotten it done in ten minutes. Without the blisters.”
No one was there to hear my muttered complaint as the cheap wooden handle I gripped rubbed the raw skin of my palm, and I sighed to myself. Having the freedom of not having to worry about anyone else had been novel at first, but the solitude was getting to me. After more than twenty years of having someone to take care of, even during the few hours I was alone, it felt wrong to only be responsible for myself. The omega part of me was always unsettled, looking for something to do, or someone to care for.
Putting a hand on my aching back, I straightened from the stoop I’d been in to edge along the floor, stepping away to inspect the wall. The pale yellow I’d chosen for the kitchen would need another coat, but just the small splash of color in the otherwise drab space put a smile on my face. Painting was exactly what I’d needed to feel like I was getting closer to actually opening the doors on my dream.
The whoosh of air hit me a moment before Carl’s voice, startling me into almost dropping the cup of paint I held.
“I’m done—Whoa!”
Large hands cupped mine, holding steady so the paint didn’t spill as my other palm flew to my chest and I tried to swallow my heart back down out of my throat. Once again I was drowning in the smokey-sweet scent of s’mores, his warmth soaking into my fingers and making the hairs along my arm stand on end.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.”
Carl’s brow was arched, his lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh, and I realized why once I noticed I still held the paintbrush in the hand clutching my chest. The stickiness of the paint registered a moment later, smeared on the front of my throat and the collar of my t-shirt.
“Of course,” I sighed, shoulders slumping as I pulled away from his touch.
I’d hoped to go over to The Hangout to thank David and apologize for the night before, but I wasn’t going to be able to sit there with paint smeared on me, and without a sink, I had nowhere to wash it off.
“It’s a lovely shade of yellow.”
Carl bit his bottom lip when my eyes met his, failing miserably to look sincere as those green orbs danced. It was unfair how beautiful they were, and any irritation at him melted away as I shook my head.
“Now I’ll have to go home and change again.”
“Change? Were you going somewhere tonight?”
The difference in his tone had me pulling my shoulders back, the implications of his question raising my hackles as I lifted my chin.
“I can go anywhere I want.”