Dax
OMEGA BUZZ GOSSIP COLUMN
OLI HART WILL BE AT THE EON FESTIVAL TONIGHT IN MIAMI, AN UNEXPECTED ADDITION JUST ANNOUNCED
June 19th
M y fingers tremble slightly as I reach out to brush a strand of rose gold hair from Oli’s face. She’s curled into her nest of blankets, the soft rise and fall of her chest signaling she’s still sleeping.
“Oli,” I whisper, my voice carrying the burden of nerves I can’t fully hide. “Wake up, angel.”
Her eyelids flutter open. There’s a moment of grogginess, but then she focuses on me, and her brow furrows, picking up on my nervous energy.
“? What’s up?” The rasp in her voice is straight-up intoxicating, even now.
I could crawl into this nest with her and hold my omega instead. The thought is so tempting, but I know I can’t.
Oli deserves this, and I promised myself I wouldn’t back out.
“Remember I mentioned going somewhere with me today?” My heart thumps against my ribcage, threatening to break free. “You still up for it?”
We have to leave early this morning to return in time for our show at the festival today.
She stretches like a cat, all languid grace and fluid movements. Then she sits up, her hair a wild cascade of waves around her shoulders with her bangs sticking in all different directions. “Of course, I’m still in.” Her smile spreads, slow and irresistible.
“Great,” I manage, though my palms are sweaty, and my limbs are shaky. A part of me was hoping she would back out so I could avoid this, but that’s not Oli.
With a quick toss of the covers, Oli springs from her bed, her movements charged with an energy that’s pure Oli Hart. She grabs her clothes—a pair of ripped jeans and a vintage band tee and slips them on with ease before adding her black wig.
When we get out to the central portion of the bus, my pack is sitting around, half-dressed in sweats. They all know where I’m taking Oli.
I watch Oli tuck a strand of rose gold hair behind her ear, the band tee hugging her form just right. She’s all vibrant energy as Aiden approaches her, the softness in his brown eyes belying his shy nature. “I’ll miss you, sunshine,” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. It’s a tender moment that squeezes something in my chest.
Chase wraps an arm around Oli’s shoulders, pulling her into a hug that lifts her feet off the ground. “Protect our star, ,” he says, his voice carrying the playful edge we’ve come to expect, but there’s also genuine concern. The kind that reminds me how much they all rely on me not to screw this up.
And then there’s Jack. He tilts Oli’s chin up and plants a kiss on her lips. “If you need us, just call, okay?” he tells her, winking at me over her head in a silent message that I better keep her safe. He hesitates before adding, “And take care of .”
I grab the coffee in the to-go cup I made for Oli this morning. It’s just another way I’m trying to care for her and make up for my past. When I hand it to Oli, she smiles and takes a sip before humming in satisfaction.
“Thanks, , it’s perfect,” she says before taking another sip.
“Good, then, let’s go.”
My heart hammers against my ribs as I lead her outside to the waiting car. Two security team members are riding in a different car behind us. I asked them for space.
The ride starts quietly, the engine’s hum filling the silence between us. I grip the steering wheel till my knuckles turn white, trying to steady the tremor in my hands. The closer we get to our destination, the tighter the coil of anxiety winds inside me.
‘It’s just a cemetery,’ I tell myself. But it’s not just any cemetery—it’s where part of me died along with my mom. Would Oli understand why I’m bringing her to a place so steeped in pain? I glance at her, and she’s watching the passing scenery, unaware of the battle raging inside me.
“Hey, you okay?” Her voice cuts through the tension, and I nod, swallowing hard.
“Yeah, just… thinking about stuff.” It’s an understatement, but I’m not ready to lay it all out yet.
“Anything you want to talk about?” There’s an earnest curiosity in her tone that makes me want to spill everything. But not yet. Soon.
“Later,” I promise, both to her and to myself. This is it—another step toward forgiveness, toward healing. I hope she sees it that way, too.
“Okay, .” She leans back in her seat, her gaze softening. “I’m here whenever you’re ready.”
The gravity of her words settles in the space between us, heavy with significance. Today is a big day. A chance to show her a piece of my soul I’ve kept hidden away. As we drive on, the vibration of the tires on asphalt is like a drumbeat to my fraying nerves, but having Oli beside me—her presence alone is a soothing balm.
“Thanks, Oli,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. Yet she hears me, as she always does, and offers a smile that might be enough to see me through this.
We pull into the cemetery, and I cut the engine. Heavy silence follows, pressing in around us like a shroud. Oli turns to me, her jade eyes wide with curiosity.
“A cemetery?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice barely audible. “There’s someone I want you to see.”
As we leave the car, the subtle crunch of gravel underfoot echoes through the quiet. The air is cool, carrying a perfume of freshly cut grass and earth. Leaves rustle gently in the breeze.
She grabs my hand, silently letting me gather the strength to keep going.
I lead the way, but my footsteps are hesitant despite my determination to move forward. Her grip is soft yet firm. It’s grounding, a lifeline amidst the swirling doubts that threaten to drag me down.
I haven’t been back here since the day I was put in foster care.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Her voice is gentle.
“More than okay,” I reply, squeezing her hand in reassurance—for her or me, I’m not sure.
Her thumb brushes over the back of my hand, a wordless promise of support.
“Whatever it is, , I’m here with you,” she says, her voice imbued with a strength that belies her petite frame.
“Thanks, Oli. That means more than you know.” And with her by my side, I think I might have the courage to face the ghosts of my past.
We reach a grave that’s more modest than the rest, its headstone weathered by time and absent of fresh flowers. My heart lurches as if trying to escape the truth this piece of earth represents. I release Oli’s hand, needing the space to breathe, to gather myself before the dam breaks.
“This is what I wanted to show you,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Is this…your mom?” Oli asks, her tone soft as the breeze that whispers through the grass.
I nod, unable to form words, as I trace the engraved name with my fingertips. The stone is cold and unyielding, much like the life I was thrust into when she left me behind. Oli steps closer, her warmth contrasting with the chill seeping from the grave.
“, you don’t have to.”
But I do have to. For me and for Oli. For the future I want us to have.
I cut Oli off. “Her name was Annabell,” I start, the weight of her story heavy on my tongue. “She was an omega, kind and gentle… everything my alpha fathers weren’t.” My throat tightens, constricting around the memories that claw their way up. “She would dance around the kitchen with me in her arms, singing her favorite songs. She loved country music, of all things, so she would probably pretend my music was good for my sake. She could only act that way when they weren’t home. When they were around, she was quiet and timid. Looking back, I think they hit her too.”
“She died in a car accident while driving to the store for a new toy for me after one of my dads pushed me down the stairs. After she passed, things got bad. Real bad.” I can feel Oli’s eyes on me, her gaze laden with empathy and silent encouragement. It fuels my courage, and I continue. “They blamed me—said it was my fault she was gone. I was just a kid, but they treated me like a mistake they couldn’t erase.”
“Oh no, …” Oli breathes out, her voice tinged with sorrow. “I’m so sorry. What did they do?”
“They ignored me, didn’t feed or clothe me. When I would complain or whine, they hit me until I learned to stay quiet. One of the neighbors found me wandering around the neighborhood dirty and skinny. They called the cops.”
My hands ball into fists at my sides, the familiar rage simmering beneath my skin, but this time, it’s tempered by Oli’s presence. “I ended up in foster care,” I confess, the words tasting bitter. “It was better than staying with them, but not by much. I hated myself when my designation came in.”
“Because you’re an alpha too?” She guesses, her understanding cutting through the years of isolation.
“Yeah, because I’m what they were, and I hated it. Hated the idea I could ever be like them,” I admit, my voice raw. “But with the guys, with my pack, I started to get over that. Until…”
Oli looks at me with so much sorrow in her eyes. I don’t know what to do or how to feel about it.
“Until I showed up. An omega,” she finishes for me.
This is where she sees my truth, and she leaves me. She won’t want me once she knows where I came from and what my DNA is capable of.
Oli reaches out, her touch tentative on my arm, grounding me. “You’re nothing like them, . You’re here, aren’t you? Facing this? You’re showing me your past to help us build a future. That makes you a strong, capable, and loving alpha.”
I look down into her eyes, seeing nothing but genuine belief shining back at me. “I’m trying to,” I concede, the burden of my past slightly lighter as she stands beside me at my mother’s grave.
I watch Oli’s expression shift; her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, but she doesn’t let them fall. Instead, she lifts my hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss against my knuckles.
“Thank you for giving us a shot,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the tremble I feel in her fingertips. “You’re the bravest person I know, on Grey.”
I want to believe her—I do—but this gnawing inside me wonders if bravery is just another word for foolishness. Sharing this here with her feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure if I’m about to fly or fall.
“Brave would’ve been dealing with this years ago,” I mutter, squeezing her hand back—her warmth seeps into my skin, a contrast to the chill of the cemetery air.
“Maybe,” she concedes, “but you’re dealing with it now. That’s what counts.” Her smile isn’t just reassuring; it’s a promise, a silent vow that she’ll be there, holding a light no matter how deep I dive into my darkness.
I take a shaky breath, trying to tether myself to the moment, to her brightness. “I was so terrified… of ending up like them, of hurting people just because I could. I guess part of me still is. And then,” my voice cracks, “I hurt you.”
Her smile is understanding as she steps closer to me. “You kept me at a distance, , and some of your comments were harsh, but you never hurt me the way your fathers hurt you. I couldn’t forgive that, but I can forgive this. I can forgive the man in front of me who is showing all his open wounds and vulnerability to help us build a future together. You’re your own person, . You’ve made your own path, and it’s led you here, to healing… to us.”
“Us.” The word hangs between us, heavy with possibility and a future I never allowed myself to imagine.
“Always us,” she affirms, her smile brighter than any stage spotlight she’s ever stood under. And in that smile, I find something I didn’t even know I was looking for—acceptance, not just from her, but for myself too.
“Thank you, Oli,” I say, and the relief that floods me is palpable. It washes over me in waves, leaving a sense of peace in its wake. “For listening. For understanding. For being here.”
“Where else would I be?” she responds, her voice playful yet sincere. “Besides, who else will ensure you don’t become a grumpy old man before your time?”
And just like that, the weight on my shoulders feels a little lighter.
We stand together a moment longer, her hand still clasping mine, and I know that whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. I think about the festival waiting for us later today, and a flicker of excitement ignites within me. With Oli by my side, maybe I can truly start living, not just surviving. Perhaps I can finally embrace being an alpha, knowing she’s here to help me redefine what that means.
“I love you, on Grey,” Oli confesses.
I pull her into my chest and stare into her eyes. They’re filled with love and the truth of her words. I can’t deny she means them.
“I love you too, Olive Hart. I promise to always love and protect you. I promise to spend my whole life being the alpha you deserve.”
Her smile grows even more prominent, which I didn’t think was possible. “Deal.”
“Let’s head back,” I suggest after a moment of shared silence, a tribute to the past and a nod to the future. Where I honor my mom and the woman she was before I lost her.
“Okay,” she agrees, her fingers intertwining with mine. We hold on as we walk away from the grave, leaving behind old ghosts and stepping into new beginnings.
The car ride back feels different than when we arrived. The tension that once filled the space between us has dissipated, replaced by a quiet understanding. We don’t talk much, but every glance exchanged speaks volumes. I drive with one hand on the wheel, the other entangled with Oli’s, her thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand.
“Thank you, ,” she says suddenly, turning to me with gratitude shining in her eyes. “For trusting me. For sharing your world with me.”
“Thank you for seeing me,” I answer honestly, realizing how rare it is to be seen for who I am, not what I am. Oli does that—she sees beneath the surface, beyond the labels and expectations.
I pull into the parking lot near our tour bus, killing the engine but making no move to get out just yet. Neither does Oli. We sit there, the low thrum of the idling car beneath us, neither wanting to break the cocoon of intimacy that’s wrapped around us since the cemetery.
“Today meant more to me than I can say,” I confess, finding courage in her unwavering gaze.
“Me too,” she replies, leaning across the console to kiss my cheek softly. It’s brief but electric, a promise of more to come.
“Ready to face the world?” I ask, not just referring to the festival but everything that lies ahead.
“With you? Always.” Her answer comes quick and sure, her smile lighting up the car like my own sun chasing away the darkness.
“Then let’s do this,” I say, opening the door and stepping out into the brightness of the day, the heaviness of the past less heavy on my shoulders.