13. Nash
Nash
My shoulders ache by the time I get home.
Rain pounds the roof of the cruiser the entire drive back to the apartment complex, and every damn person in town suddenly forgot how to drive the second the roads flooded.
Dispatch has been chaos all day. There are downed power lines and flooded sheds.
A sinkhole opened up near the county line.
One poor bastard drove his truck straight into a drainage ditch because he "couldn't see the road anymore.
" And through every second of it, I kept thinking about whether Nelly was still outside working in this shit.
Stubborn woman.
She's got more determination than half this town combined.
The paper bag of takeout rustles against my arm while I shoulder my apartment door open. The smell of burgers and fries fills the entryway immediately, warm and greasy and comforting after twelve straight hours of stale coffee and wet uniforms.
The apartment's quiet.
Mostly, anyway.
Because somewhere down the hallway, off-key singing drifts through the air.
I stop dead in the middle of my kitchen.
A long, warbling note that could generously be called a chorus.
Jesus Christ.
"Nelly?" I call out.
Her singing immediately gets louder.
I stare toward the hallway in disbelief. "That was not an invitation to continue!"
She ignores me entirely.
I sigh heavily and dump the bag of food onto the kitchen counter while thunder rattles the windows.
Water drips from my jacket sleeves as I shrug the thing off and hang it near the door.
I need to get out of my uniform. I need to wash the smell of old particle board and paperwork out of my hair.
The apartment smells like steam and sawdust, with Nelly's heady vanilla scent threading through it.
My nose twinges when I catch something else. Another scent, faint but familiar. Where have I smelled it before?
My nostrils flare. My Alpha instincts snap awake so fast my spine stiffens.
Where the hell did that scent come from?
I hate smells I can't identify.
It runs through the apartment beneath the humidity drifting from the bathroom. I move down the hallway, my head on a swivel as my nostrils flare again. What is that? Clean laundry and… cotton?
Recognition slams into me so suddenly my jaw tightens.
Beau.
Why the fuck do I smell Beau in my apartment?
Was he here earlier?
I'm already moving toward the bathroom door.
Steam slips through the space where the door doesn't quite meet the hallway carpet. Nelly continues butchering Whitney Houston inside my shower as my brain scrambles for all of the reasons why Beau would've been at my place without my knowledge.
Not that Nelly can't have guests, but I'd prefer to know who's in my home.
I don't like surprise smells in my den.
I knock once against the wood and her singing stops immediately.
"Rude," she says.
"What's that smell?" I ask.
She groans. "You mean to tell me you're going to complain about me coming home sweaty? I'm taking a shower, Nash."
"It's not that," I say as I knock again. "What did you track into my apartment? It smells like Beau."
The shower shuts off abruptly. "You can't be serious right now."
"I absolutely am."
The shower curtain yanks open and bottles clatter around. "Can't a girl shower in peace?"
"No."
"That sounds illegal."
The words leave my mouth before I can think. "You should know Alphas don't like unidentified smells in their dens."
"Sounds like you know it's Beau just fine to me."
There's silence in the bathroom before the door cracks open. Steam billows toward me and an irritated brown eye glares at me through the opening.
"What's this about, Nash?" she asks.
It's a good question, and one I don't have an answer to. "Having guests is fine. I want you to be comfortable here. But just shoot me a text or something and let me know someone's coming over. I like knowing who's been in here."
"Then you shouldn't have let an Omega stay with you," she says flatly.
I don't want this to become an argument. Sure, Nelly and I are like oil and water sometimes. But that doesn't mean I don't give a shit. She's headstrong, which is more than I can say for a lot of Omegas in The Grove. She's intelligent, despite the pandemonium she can bring to a situation.
I want her to be comfortable here.
I'm still not sure why that matters so much to me.
I must be silent for too long, because she speaks up first. "If it's that big of an issue, I can go stay with Levi or Beau. I don't need the view from your room that badly. I can figure something else out."
The thought of her leaving hits me like a fist to the chest. I don't want her to go. I don't know why, but I know I've come to enjoy the idea that someone's here, waiting for me. Something ugly twists low in my stomach.
Then Beau's scent hits me again.
It's stronger, here in my bathroom. Laced in the steam still barreling against my face.
She smells like Beau. Not just my place, but her, specifically.
"It's not just my place I'm smelling him in, is it?" I ask.
Her cheeks tint. "I don't know what you're talking about. Now, let me clean up in peace."
She closes the door in my face, and my stomach drops somewhere near my ankles.
"Nelly," I say, trying to soften the edge in my voice as I place my hand against the bathroom door. "I'm not trying to get into your business or anything—"
"Could've fooled me," she says.
"But," I say, allowing the word to linger as I try to fix whatever's stewing in my gut, "you smell like your accountant, and it's so heavy that it's embedding itself into the carpets."
"Well, Beau and I had breakfast this morning before I got to work. Maybe you're just being overly sensitive."
Not by a long shot. "I don't think that's the case."
"It's the only case you're getting while I'm naked."
My brain short-circuits at the idea of her naked behind the bathroom door.
I don't pull out of my trance until the door rips open again and Nelly comes storming out, slipping between me and the wall.
I whip around and watch her make her way into my guest bedroom, clothed in nothing but a T-shirt with a towel wrapped around her hair.
And still, Beau's scent clings to her.
Follows her.
Oh, yeah.
They fucked.
Something territorial claws its way up my spine as logic finally catches up. What the hell is wrong with me? Nelly's an adult. She can sleep with whoever she wants. That shouldn't bother me at all. She's a guest in my space, and I want her to be comfortable.
Even if her being comfortable is sleeping with her accountant.
"You are being unbelievably weird right now," Nelly calls out from the bedroom.
My brain can't let go of it. "You still smell like him."
"Congratulations on your functioning nose."
"Nelly, I just—"
She whirls around in the doorframe of her room. "You aren't my father, Nash. I don't have to run every single thing I do by you first. So, whatever the fuck this is? Cut it out."
I don't know why this bothers me. I don't know why anything about Nelly bothers me. Maybe offering to have her stay in my place was a bad idea. I just wanted to help, but I think I'm only making things worse.
"You're right," I finally say. "I'm sorry. I just—"
"You just what?" she spits at me.
"Did he take care of you?"
Her eyes narrow. "What?"
I decide to just say it. "It's clear what you and Beau did. You'd only smell like him if you slept with him. I just want to make sure he treated you okay. Did he take care of you?"
I'm not sure I've ever seen Nelly soften. "Soft" isn't a word that's ever been attributed to her. But when her shoulders relax and her stance disarms, she looks so very Omega that it yanks at my heart.
That's not good.
"Yeah, he did," she says. "And we didn't do it here, for what it's worth. We were at the house next door. It just sort of… happened."
I blink. "You slept with Beau in the condemned house?"
She rolls her eyes. "It's only condemned because of the hole in the wall in the kitchen. It's not like there's rats invading the place and black mold embedded into the studs or something."
I clear my throat. "But you're okay? He didn't…"
She seems to figure out what I'm trying to ask. "He was the perfect gentleman, Nash. I promise."
I draw in a deep breath. "Okay. Good. I'm… I'm glad."
She grins. "You're glad I got laid good?"
My ears burn. "I'm just saying, I'm glad he treated you well. I'd rip his head off if he didn't."
I'm not sure why I'm questioning it, though.
Beau's a good man. Always has been. He's one of the best men in town, if I had any say in it.
His family's bullshit for constantly hounding him about his designation, but he's never caved to it.
He's never allowed their cynicism to override his confidence.
And Nelly deserves someone good.
"Nash?" she asks.
I thumb over my shoulder as I backtrack toward my bedroom. "Food's in the kitchen. There's burgers, chicken sandwiches, mozzarella sticks, and fries."
"Thanks."
"Not a problem."
"Nash?"
I pause in my doorway, but I don't turn to face her. "Yeah?"
"I know Alphas are protective of their dens. I'll try to keep the smells to a minimum."
I shake my head. "You're just fine, Nelly. I meant it when I said to make yourself at home. I'm sorry I'm not a better host."
The door closes behind me and I sink against it. I lean my head back until the wood catches it. Silence crashes around me immediately until Nelly's footsteps shuffle against the carpet, no doubt heading to the kitchen.
I don't even realize how long I'm standing there until I hear Nelly say…
"Thanks for dinner. Yours is in the microwave."
I drag both hands down my face. "You're welcome. Sleep well."
"You too."
I can't get into my own shower quickly enough.
I lower my head and the hot water pounds my muscles.
I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me, but I have to get over it.
Images of her and Beau tangled together flash through my mind.
I wash my body down as I try to shake the thoughts from my brain, but they only seem to spiral.
I growl to myself as I rinse off. The shower does nothing to help me unwind. My brain spins a million miles a second, and soon I'm imagining Nelly trapped beneath Levi. I picture her leaving my place, storming out in a fit of rage after another fight, ending up in the tattoo artist's arms.
I scrub shampoo through my hair like it'll somehow fix whatever the hell kind of mood this is.
I've never felt this way before.
I don't like it.
This was supposed to be simple. Nelly needed help.
I had the space, as well as a great view of the tortured house she's trying to restore.
That was it. I mean, no one in this town ever does right by her.
Not the idiots who treated her like she was difficult just because she refused to fit into whatever neat little Omega box everyone expected.
Not anyone at school, who teased her for being a tomboy.
Not even the community that she disturbs with her power tools and banging about.
I just wanted to help.
To do one decent thing for someone who deserved it.
So why does it feel like I'm losing something?
I stand under the hot water until it runs lukewarm. That's my sign to get out. The apartment's dark by the time I emerge from the bathroom dressed for bed. Nelly's bedroom door is closed, and a soft light glows beneath it.
I stare at it for a second longer than I should.
But my stomach gets the better of me and I head for the kitchen. Sure enough, when I open the microwave, there's a rolled-down bag of food sitting there, completely untouched. There's a sticky note resting on top of it, and the messy handwriting makes me crack a smile.
eat your damn dinner
–nelly
"Unbelievable," I murmur.
Though the smile on my face doesn't fade.
I get the food onto a plate and heat it up while the storm rages outside, seemingly unending. The local weather alert flashes across the television in the living room the second I turn it on to wait out the microwave.
FLOOD WARNING IN EFFECT.
"Yeah, no shit," I murmur as I turn it off.
After getting dinner into my room, I settle against the edge of the mattress as I pull out my phone.
Up comes the weather forecast before I swing my legs into bed and sink back against my pillows.
Reaching for my fries becomes a rhythmic motion while I watch the news report drone on about emergency supply recommendations and road closures in effect until further notice.
There are power outage warnings and funnel cloud sightings.
It's like the earth is protesting the very presence of summertime.
My mind automatically starts cataloging what I have in my apartment.
I've got the thirty-gallon hot water tank if something happens to the pipes, along with the bottled water I keep stocked in my pantry.
There's a flashlight in every drawer of my place.
The extra batteries are in a plastic container in the cabinet above the fridge.
I've got Sternos and a set of camping cookware on the top shelf of my closet. The extra food's stacked in Nelly's.
Nelly.
I have to protect her through all of this if shit really hits the fan.
The realization settles heavy in my chest while rain lashes the windows in sheets. I must protect Nelly at all costs. I mindlessly eat another fry while watching the news report on my phone, trying to lull myself into some semblance of slumber.
Something tells me sleep won't come tonight.
Not with Beau's scent still lingering faintly in my damn hallway.