Chapter 4
Zira
“But that doesn’t mean you should have called them, Mom,” I gripe, my cell tucked between my face and shoulder as I walk from my apartment to the florist down the road, opting not to drive since I’m feeling much better after arriving back at the apartment undetected.
It took twenty minutes after I got home for the calls to start again, and I’ve since muted my cell to avoid the temptation of answering Barnes, Lazarus, and now Alek. I can only assume he nabbed my number from one of the two other alphas, and now I’m the one paying for it.
“Of course, I did, Zee. Who the hell else was going to check on you? I can’t very well hobble myself to the apartment now, can I?” Mom argues, though I hear the smile in her voice. The damned woman is enjoying this far too much. “It’s not my fault you were in nothing but a towel when they came to your rescue.”
“I didn’t need rescuing,” I protest for the third time, checking through my purse to make sure I have all I need for a visit with the woman that is currently the biggest pain in my ass. “You know how I get after a heat. I was just, I don’t know, recovering on a cool surface.”
“Zee, baby, you were lying on your bathroom floor barely clinging to consciousness,” Mom refutes, and I find a new bone to pick with those alphas, because clearly they tattled to my mother about the condition in which they found me.
Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “I would have been fine, Mom. Completely fine. I just needed to rest for a little bit before moving around again.”
“Well, I simply sped up the process,” she defends, and I’ll be damned if I don’t hear her smile growing through the damned phone.
Sighing deeply as I hook my purse over my shoulder, happy with its contents, I remind my mother, “How many times do I have to insist that you stop meddling in my love life, Mom?”
“What? Whatever do you mean?” she cries dramatically through the speaker of my phone, and I pinch the bridge of my nose while I pray for the same level of patience Lazarus seems to possess.
“Mom,” I blurt with all the blandness of a dry biscuit. “I wasn’t born yesterday. Don’t you dare, for one second, believe I don’t know what games you’re playing.”
“Games are for children, honey.” She titters.
“Then quit playing them, woman,” I retort, smiling politely at an elderly woman as she rolls by with her Pomeranian pooch in a stroller made for babies. As soon as she passes, I go right back to berating my mother. “Since the moment you woke up in that hospital bed, it’s like you’ve been on some kind of matchmaking vendetta. You took one look at Barnes’s icy-blue eyes and inky-black hair, the chiseled jaw covered in a five o’clock shadow, and a straight nose and… You know what, you saw the handsome man and decided there and then that you were going to do what you could to pair us together.”
I can feel her amusement through the phone, and I clench my jaw when she doesn’t reply straight away.
“Mom, tell me the truth. Are you really at the care facility because you genuinely think you’re better off there than with me? I can look after you, you know,” I plead, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.
“Zee, as much as I’d love for there to be devious intentions behind my stay as Casa Del Therapy, this really is the best place for me. I know you can take care of me, because you’ve been doing it since you turned sixteen years old. But you need to start living, and you can’t do that with me chained to your ankle. Me being here is good for a few reasons. I’m getting the care I need without interrupting anyone’s lives, the food is amazing here, and you have a chance to spread your wings a little further than you would have been able to if you were stuck being my caretaker.”
“But—” I try, only to be interrupted.
“I know, I know. You don’t mind caring for me, because I cared for you all those years. But, baby, that’s my job. That’s what I signed up for when I learned I was going to be your mom. You don’t owe me anything because you were born and you had a mother to look after you. There are trained professionals here that do an excellent job in making sure I get what I need,” she assures, right before the batshit-crazy woman says, “And anyway, you can’t very well get laid with your impaired mother lying on the couch, now, can you?”
“Oh, my god,” I mutter, just as I round the corner and squint against the daylight that beams through my sunglasses. “You’re impossible. I’m not getting laid.”
“Well, not yet, you’re not. Can’t very well get some loving if you’re running away from the guys’ house.” She snickers, and I feel myself blush from head to toe.
“Mom, I wasn’t there as a booty call. Do you hear yourself?” I grumble, although my lips do twitch, because my mom is funny. I just won’t tell her as much lest her head grows too big to fit through doorways.
Mom laughs loudly, and I roll my eyes as the first tugs of a smile stretch my obnoxiously full lips over my teeth, listening to her vibrant chuckles that could cheer me up even on the gloomiest of days. “Baby, is it so bad that I want you to find love and happiness? That man has been pining over you for weeks on end now. Why not give him a chance?”
“You already know why,” I mutter, my smile falling just before I reach the florist.
Mom snorts, and I already know the argument I’m about to receive before she even utters the words. “In all the years I’ve lived, Zira, I have learned to trust my instincts. I’ve screwed up enough for both of us when it comes to the romance department, but I have learned a few things along the way. There isn’t a single devious bone in either one of those boys’ bodies. Did you know Barnes calls almost daily to check in on me? To the point that one of the carers here asked me if it was my son calling again yesterday. And if a man like that exists, I’m sure he wouldn’t keep bad company. Given that Lazarus boy didn’t hesitate to pay for my care tells me they’re a good, caring bunch. Why are you being so hard on them?”
Keeping my voice low as I scan the flowers, looking for the ones I know my mom likes the most, I quietly inform, “There’s no way you can tell what kind of men they are based on them calling regularly and paying an extortionate bill.”
“And they’re paying for my care here. Don’t downplay the magnitude of their generosity, Zee,” she scolds softly, and I grimace, right before I reach for the bouquet of sunflowers paired with white snapdragons and chrysanthemums. “They did a really good thing for me. For you . I think you should cut them some slack. Yes, they didn’t discuss it with you, but they discussed it with me. If I think it’s okay, then surely you should, too, right?”
I pause at the counter, waiting for my turn to pay the teller, and murmur, “Look, I know what they did was a good thing. Great, really, though I still haven’t a clue why they did it. But, Mom, I have to pay them back for it. I can’t just let them pay your hospital bills.”
“Now you’re just being stubborn and pigheaded,” she scolds once more, and I fight the urge to cringe like I’m a teenager again barely getting into trouble for fear of the repercussions.
“I get it from you, so it’s no surprise,” I volley, lips twitching when she snorts rather unlady-like down the line.
“Be that as it may, pull your head out of that backside, honey. If you did, you’d see exactly why they offered and did pay for my medical stuff. You’ll see why they stayed with you during our time in hospital, until you kicked them to the curb. You’ll see why they keep calling and texting. And you’ll see why they dropped everything to come running to your aid,” she wisely informs, laughing when I don’t immediately answer. “Hell, Zira. That Barnes boy has it so bad for you that he looked like a kicked puppy when you asked him to leave. Lazarus didn’t look too pleased, either. Think what you will of their intentions, but I’m convinced those boys have crushes on you a mile wide, and you’re being a shithead because you don’t want to owe them? Did they ask for the money back? Are they expecting you to pay the money back?”
“Well, no, but—” I try, and fail, to answer, because she’s really on a roll now. This isn’t how I thought this conversation would go. I was sure I was going to curse my mother out for meddling, complain a little while she hums and aahs at my troubles, and then spend a few hours with her. I wasn’t expecting a verbal tongue lashing from the woman that birthed me, nor was I expecting to feel guilty for the way I’ve been ignoring Barnes and Lazarus.
Damn it all to hell.
“But, nothing, Zira. There are no sinister intentions here, nothing to worry about. Hell, I even looked them up because I had a lapse in judgement and thought there was an undercurrent of something dodgy in the works. It was brief, and I shook myself out of it, but it did lead to me learning a few things about Barnes and his pack,” she declares, and I frown. Why didn’t I think to search for them on the internet? I mean, I have been curious about the two alphas that paid a small fortune for my mom’s care, because surely no mere mortal with a struggling bank account could afford such a gift. I’m not an idiot. It’s clear one or more of them come from money, but I feel a bit of an idiot for not having thought of looking into them before now.
Laughing down the line once more, like she knows where my thoughts have gone, she sighs and gently commands, “For once, listen to your instincts, honey. What are they telling you? Don’t worry about looking them up, and don’t think of my past experiences with men, because the heavens know that was a trainwreck. Just tell me, what is your gut telling you?”
I pause for a moment, shuffling toward the cashier with my flowers in hand and my card at the ready. As I pay for my flowers, offering the young woman at the till a thankful smile, I actually think about it. I force myself to think of them and how I feel when I do, of what my instincts tell me when I think of them.
And the answer is immediate, and I feel like a weapons grade asshole the moment it does.
“I don’t think you need to tell me, honey. I think you just had your epiphany,” Mom softly concludes, and I huff with a defeated laugh, staring at the ground as I walk slowly through the shop filled with pretty flowers and overpowering floral scents that tickle my nose.
“So, you might be on to something,” I confess, shaking my head at her renewed laughter.
“I’m not good at a lot, but reminding you that your instincts are a vital part of living is one of them. How many times must I remind you that you’re an omega? Omegas are supposed to be very good at relying on their instincts. It’s how you find the pack you’re meant to be with,” she quips, and I frown.
“I thought that happens with the nose?” I tease, knowing a scent match isn’t the only thing to go on when looking for a pack. It sure does help, a whole lot, actually. But it’s more to it than sniffing someone and claiming them as yours. Although, when I think like that and the scents I’ve been subjected to recently, I have to wonder if there’s something there between me and Barnes. Maybe Lazarus, too? Possibly Alek, but that’s way too early to tell. Way, way too early. I mean, I did run away from their house after they helped me.
Damn it, I’m an idiot.
“You’re a funny girl, honey,” Mom snickers, and I smile just before I reach for the door. “Anyway, now that we’ve cleared that up for the billionth time, how long until I should expect to see that pretty face of yours? I miss my baby.”
I hum under my breath, reaching for the door as I answer, “I’m about twenty minutes away, so I’ll be there—”
Before I can finish my sentence, the door swings open, knocking into me with enough force that I stumble back with a gasp and a panicked floundering of my hands while I try to save both my phone and the flowers. It’s a failed endeavor, both clambering to the hard floor before I can catch either, and I wince at the sound of my phone hitting the deck. I really can’t afford to pay for a new one.
“Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you there,” a gravelly voice declares, and I fight a shiver as I drop into a squat to retrieve my mom’s flowers and my phone.
“It’s fine. I kind of blend in today,” I mutter, gesturing to my dress, then to the flowers all around me, before reaching for my phone with a prayer that it’s okay.
It’s not.
Spiderweb cracks span the entire screen that is now black, and I groan at the sight, cursing my clumsy ass for not being more careful where I was walking. Maybe if I were paying more attention, I would have seen someone coming into the store while I was leaving. I could have given myself enough time to move back before disaster struck and my phone died a quick and painful death.
“What’s the damage? Did he break it?” the same voice queries, sounding worried, though I have no idea why he’s speaking in the third person.
“Looks like I’ll be planning a funeral. It’s dead,” I sigh, standing with my ruined phone in hand and the unscathed flowers, turning my head to face the stranger.
Only to pause suddenly, eyes widening a fraction while my mouth parts in shock.
Because there isn’t one stranger, but two. Two identically gorgeous, model-worthy, muscles for days in all the right areas and outlined by white shirts rolled up to the elbows, and incredibly tall strangers. The two men before me, who smell so good, though there’s something very recognizable about the scent, share their honey-blond hair, both styled a little messily, the strands long enough to have pushed from their handsome faces. Matching sky-blue eyes peer back at me, both looking regretful, and I take a moment to soak in the sight of their slightly wide noses, perfectly angular jaws, and matching dimples in each of their left cheeks, wondering what their parents must look like to have produced some of the finest specimens, not once, but twice.
I really hope I’m not perfuming right now, because that would be the cherry on this shit sundae that is currently my life. When did things get so weirdly complicated for me? When I started my job at North Five University, I never would have anticipated that this is where I would end up, blanching at two wildly sexy men after they ran into me with a door and broke my phone, which all came after two other maddeningly gorgeous men paid for my mom’s care and medical bills while another Viking-esque model of a man allowed me to braid his hair and purred for me.
If you’d have asked me two months ago where I would see myself now, there isn’t a chance in hell that I would have listed any of that. In fact, I’d likely still be stuck in the dead-end job I found myself in before applying for the job of my dreams. I’d still be introverted, keeping to myself, and avoiding public spaces.
Weird how things change, huh?
It takes an embarrassingly long moment for me to stop gawking, stunned by their beauty before blinking myself back into the here and now, just in time to hear that gravelly voice once more.
“Sure it’s dead? No way to resuscitate it? I know CPR,” the man on the left asks hopefully, smiling sheepishly, the only difference between him and his brother being the small beauty spot just beneath his left eye.
“He’s not very good at it, mind you. He’ll start singing Pink Pony Club while he does it,” the one to the right adds, a little more timidly than his twin brother, and more seriously regretful.
Clearing my throat and trying to ignore the double dose of handsome that quite literally bowled into me, I show them each my phone and pretend that I’m not breathless as I say, “I think it’s a goner. What’s your verdict?”
The guy on the right whistles slowly and clips his brother across the head when he sees the damage caused, while his brother looks suitably guilty. “I’m so sorry. I genuinely didn’t see you. We’ve been on a plane for almost twelve hours and I’m a little loopy, and yapper right there was in my ear about all the things we needed to do before we got home.”
“There was a man seated beside us who snores as loud as a rusty lawn mower, we barely got any sleep, and I was only reminding him not to buy pink flowers,” his brother confirms, biting his full lower lip as he peers down at my phone again. “We can pay for that.”
My hackles rise for only a moment before I remember Mom’s words. Trust myself, rely on my instincts, quit being such an uptight bitch about money.
So, with a deep-hearted sigh that spills my pride onto the floor, I mutter, “Thanks. My mom is probably freaking out right now.”
“Is that who you were talking to before I knocked into you?” the guy who clobbered me with a door asks, cringing even more now, his guilt shining in those pale eyes like the aurora borealis in the night sky.
Nodding, I tuck the ruined phone into my bag, thankful for my past self’s caution. All of my photos, documents, and everything important have been backed up, safe and sound. It doesn’t make it any less of a pain, having lost the only thing that connects me to Mom while she’s in the care facility. To add insult to injury, I no longer have Barnes, Lazarus, or Alek’s numbers anymore. How the hell am I meant to apologize without a phone?
Guess I’m going to have to do it the old-fashioned way.
“Uh, yeah. I was heading over to see her, actually. She’s probably worried sick that the call dropped so suddenly,” I share, already picturing the worried state my mom will be in if I don’t turn up in the time frame I offered before my phone succumbed to its injuries.
The twins share a look, a silent form of communication occurring between them, and I find myself only momentarily fascinated by it before the guy on the left asks, “If you’d like, we can offer you a ride to where you need to be.”
“A safer option if you’re without a phone,” his brother adds. “And it’s the least we can offer, after we accidentally took away your lifeline.”
Given that I can’t call my ride for when I leave the care facility later, and I can’t inform Mom that I’m without a phone now, I nod slowly, trusting my gut that these guys won’t do anything shady. My instincts aren’t screaming at me, which is a good sign. In fact, I feel weirdly at ease in their presence, wondering how that could be possible a second time today. “That would be great, actually. Thank you.”
“Please, don’t thank us,” the guy on the left pleads, wincing once more as he shuffles aside and gestures for me to leave before him. “We’re parked not too far from here. Cormac will get the flowers and I’ll take you to the car.”
“Sure thing,” the man named Cormac agrees, offering me a shy smile that still holds guilt for my ruined phone, before he enters the shop like a man on a mission.
When it’s just the beauty-marked twin and I, he gestures for the door and says, “Follow me.”
I do as I’m told, falling into step with him, I hug my flowers a little tighter, all too aware of the handsome man as he walks beside me.
I’m so distracted by it, in fact, that I startle when he holds his hand out to me and says, “I’m Crawford, by the way. Crawford Hart. That’s my brother, Cormac.”
Oddly enough, the names ring a bell, but I can’t seem to place why. So, brushing off the familiarity, I place my hand in his and damn near gasp at the warmth of his skin. “Zira Favero.”
“Nice to meet you, Zira. I’m sorry again about your phone, but I promise I’ll buy you a new one. A better one. The newest model, if that’s what you want,” he swears, and I can’t help but feel my heart warm and the genuine remorse in his voice and the stern determination to make it right. It ebbs a great deal of anger towards the loss of the only thing that keeps me connected to people these days.
“Don’t stress about it. It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone,” I assure, before chuckling under my breath. “It’s my rotten luck that it happened to me, but that’s no fault of your own.”
“Still, I should have been paying more attention,” he tries, and I shrug, muttering, “The same could be said for me. I would have seen you coming if I was looking ahead and not down. Hindsight, right?”
Crawford laughs, but nods, rolling his sleeves up further on his tanned arms, revealing more sinewy muscles and veins that pop against his skin, the silence between us stretching before he asks, “So, where are we taking you?”
I give him the address, and he taps it away into his perfectly working phone just before he stops as a fancy car that I don’t know the name of, only that it’s silver and slick looking, and probably costs more than what my kidneys are worth on the black market.
Oh, great. More wealthy men to add to the list of men currently occupying my thoughts. Just what I need.