Levi
The shadows suit me.
I've spent most of my life standing in them. I kept my head down in school, mostly because there were bruises I wanted to hide. I kept my clothes inconspicuous, which wasn't hard since they all came from thrift stores and hand-me-downs from the churches in and around the area.
I watch Nelly from the shadows of the apartment complex.
I lean against one of the old oak trees at the edge of the parking lot, my arms folded across my chest. Nelly's hammering away at that porch she's somehow already managed to level out. The afternoon sun beats down on the roof Knox and Ford already fixed, and the heat doesn't seem to faze her.
She's in the zone.
Hammer tucked into the loop of her tool belt. Crowbar hanging from one back pocket. Tape measure clipped to the other. She pulls a warped piece of trim from the porch with a grunt before tossing it into the growing pile in the driveway.
Then she kneels to measure the opening.
She measures twice before she heads to the contraption she's got hooked up to a long extension cord.
I smile to myself as she cuts once and fits that new trim piece against the porch like a glove.
She's always been like this, my Omega. Methodical and patient in her work, and quiet when she's concentrating. Our bond hums softly in my chest, a sort of peace spreading over me that comes with a gentle ache.
I don't know how it took me so long to put it together.
It wasn't until I came out of my haze of rut that I realized how Nelly was feeling inside. She isn't scared, or angry. She isn't curious, or finicky. She's not even sad.
She's remembering.
Again, I don't know how I didn't see it sooner.
My Omega doesn't run from us because she wants to be away from us.
She runs because we represent everything she's trying to get away from.
We remind her of her past—of a time when she was beneath the thumb of her family's ways.
We come from her childhood. Hell, we all went to school together, for crying out loud.
Sure, we didn't run in the same circles, but we wore the same colors.
Cheered for the same teams.
Walked the same streets to get to the same building.
We remind her of her childhood, and that's why she ran.
I scrub a hand down my face. Nelly never talks about her childhood, or her parents, or the future, just like me. She only focuses on the next house she's working on. The next issue that comes with it. The next problem to solve.
Just like me.
She's day to day. House to house. Always moving and working.
I get it.
After all, tattooing was never just tattooing for me.
It was an excuse. If I worked six days a week, no one questioned why I didn't visit.
If I booked appointments months in advance, nobody wondered why I wouldn't answer my mother's calls.
If I stayed busy enough, people stopped asking if I stayed in contact with my family.
Nelly does the same thing.
She steps onto the porch and jumps. It doesn't move an inch, and she grins. The warmth that comes with it spreads through my chest, bleeding into my veins. The realization of Nelly's truth settles over me so naturally that I wonder why it took bonding with her to see it.
Maybe because I've been too busy running, too.
She stands with her hands on her hips beneath the shade of the porch and wipes at her brow. The yawn she lets out is enormous, and all I can do is shake my head and smile to myself. She's tired, but she'll never admit it.
My stubborn little Omega.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling my gaze away from Nelly, and I find a message from Walker.
Walker: Nash came by and offered payment again. Told him it wasn't necessary.
I grin as I type back.
Levi: He'll try that a couple more times. We appreciate you looking after her while she was at the vineyard, man.
His response comes almost immediately.
Walker: My Omega needs more friends. Wasn't exactly a hard sell.
I huff a quiet laugh before I respond.
Levi: Speaking of, you two still coming by Friday evening for your appointment?
Walker: Sure are.
Levi: Still planning the matching ink?
Walker: A tiny honeycomb on the wrist and mine on the ankle, yes. She says she wants flowers around hers, too.
I take a quick peek at Nelly, who's already started on the other side of the porch, before I shoot off another message.
Levi: Sounds like a plan, we'll figure out the flowers at the appointment. See you guys Friday at 5.
Walker: Perfect. Appreciate it.
I tuck my phone away just as the bond gives another gentle pulse. I look up in time to watch Nelly stretch her back before she wipes sweat from her brow with the hem of Nash's hoodie.
That's how I know she's affected.
She's working in a hoodie in the middle of the summer.
She disappears into the house and my phone buzzes again. I chuckle as I pull it back out of my pocket. Probably Nash about to tell me—
I freeze when I see it's a message from my mother.
Mom: Haven't heard from you in a while.
A few years ago, the message would've ruined my day. But today, I just feel tired. There's no more anger or guilt. There are no more memories to rehash or frustration to swallow down. Nelly's bond takes up too much inside me to waste my emotional energy on people who made my life miserable.
Even if I want to hope they could change.
Another text pops up.
Dad: You gonna keep ignoring us? Or are you actually gonna help your family now? I see you reading our messages again.
Anger flares within my body, but the bond I have with Nelly flares harder. My head whips up and there she is on the porch, looking out over the town. Her hand rubs at her chest, her face squished up in worry.
I draw in a deep breath so my anger doesn't fill her up.
I've got other things I wish to fill her with in time.
My phone vibrates again with another text, but I don't even read it. I won't allow Nelly to feel the emotions my family kicks up for the rest of her life. Peace fills the marrow of my bones, and I know that's her. She may not want to be with us, but she wants us to be okay.
I can work with that.
It's easy to hit the mute button on my family's conversations now. Maybe in the future, I'll have the strength to block them. But for now, muting them and archiving the message strings works. I do it with all of our conversations, the individual ones and the group ones.
Nelly will never feel the backlash of my family again.
Not if I have anything to do with it.
My shoulders feel strangely lighter as I pull up the group conversation I have going with Beau and Nash.
I shoot them a text.
Levi: She's working hard today. And she's in your hoodie, Nash.
The bubbles appear just as I craft my next message.
Levi: I'm grabbing lunch to leave for her.
Levi: You two take breakfast in the morning before work. We need to make sure our Omega eats at least once during these hot summer days.
Beau: Nash and I can pick up something for her from the diner in the morning. Maybe enough for breakfast and a snack.
Nash: We'll get it delivered.
Levi: And you won't bother her. That's the big point. Say it.
The bubbles pop up and disappear a few times before both Nash and Beau chime in.
Nash: I won't bother her.
Beau: I'll make sure nothing goes wrong.
Levi: And this is what we'll do every day until she's ready: meal train. Don't forget water, too. She needs to stay hydrated in this heat.
Beau: Agreed.
Nash: Works for me.
When Nelly disappears into the house and doesn't come out for a few minutes, I push off the oak tree and head toward my car.
It's a quick stop at the diner for me where I grab her a cold soda, a couple of ice waters, and a turkey sandwich with some potato salad, fresh fruit, and a chocolate chip cookie.
Nothing heavy, but enough to keep her energy levels up.
I tear the receipt in half, making sure I'm not using the part with the price on it, before I turn it over and scribble a note onto it for her.
Nelly,
Eat. No obligations, and no expectations. Just making sure you don't forget. Nash and Beau will be by in the morning with breakfast.
Just make sure you eat.
—Levi
When she doesn't make another appearance, I slip onto the newly rebuilt steps of the porch and place the bag and drink carrier just inside the door. She has her toolbox sitting there, and that's how I know she'll see it.
I rest the note on top of everything before I head back to my car.
I have to open the tattoo shop for my first appointment in half an hour.
And for the first time in a very long time, running doesn't feel necessary.
I just hope we can convince our Omega of that, too.