Chapter 15 | Angus
Angus
T he boxes in my arms felt like nothing compared to the anticipation thrumming through my chest as I approached the orphanage.
Two large packages containing the latest flat-screen television and gaming console from my company's inventory, complete with a professional-grade steering wheel controller that had cost more to develop than most people saw in a year.
But as I climbed the front steps, none of that mattered, not as much as the sight that greeted me through the front window.
Heather stood in the hallway, her light brown hair catching the late afternoon light as it brushed against her shoulders with each movement.
Even from this distance, I could see the exhaustion in her slumped posture.
Her slender frame looked smaller than it had this morning, more fragile, that made something fierce and protective flare in my chest at the sight.
She deserved better than this. She deserved to be cared for, protected, cherished. The primal part of my brain that recognized her as mine growled its approval of that thought.
Before I could knock, the front door swung open, and chaos erupted as seven children poured out like a small army, their eager voices mixing in a song that made my heart clench with unexpected warmth.
"Angus!" Loubie Lou shrieked, her one-eared rabbit bouncing against her as she launched herself toward my legs. "You came back!"
"'Course I came back, lass," I said, shifting the boxes carefully to avoid crushing her enthusiasm. "Told ye I would, didn't I?"
Tomas appeared at my elbow, his usual silence replaced by wide-eyed curiosity as he stared at the packages I carried.
Even Susie had abandoned her usual teenage disdain for adult attention, her wild red hair catching the light as she craned her neck to get a better look at what I was carrying. "What's in the boxes?" She demanded with a directness that made me grin every time.
"Patience, lass," I told her, winking at the scowl that earned me. "Good things come to those who wait."
Through the chaos of children's voices, I heard footsteps in the hall, and then Heather appeared in the doorway. The sight of her hit me like a physical blow. Her green eyes were wide with surprise, her lips somewhat parted as she took in the scene on her front porch.
God, she was beautiful. Even tired, even worried, even overwhelmed by circumstances that would have broken someone with less strength, she was the most magnificent thing I'd ever seen.
"Angus," she said, and just hearing my name in her sweet voice made something possessive and protective flare in my chest. "What... what is all this?"
"Presents for the children," I said simply, though my eyes never left her face as I spoke. I wanted to watch every micro-expression, wanted to remember each reaction so I could replay them later when I was alone and missing her.
Her brows drew together in that adorable way that meant she was about to be stubborn about something. "I simply cannot accept such generosity," she said, her voice carrying a determined independence that made me want to wrap her in my arms and show her exactly how much I wanted to take care of her.
My chest tightened at the sound of her protest, at the way she assumed she had to refuse help, had to carry every burden alone. The urge to protect her, to provide for her, to make her life easier in every possible way, crashed over me like a tide I couldn't fight even if I'd wanted to.
"I brought this for the children," I said, setting the boxes down carefully on the solid new porch and stepping toward her with deliberate slowness. "It didn't cost me anything, lass. These came from my company stores. They’re surplus inventory that would have been written off."
That wasn't entirely true. I'd specifically ordered the latest models, the best equipment money could buy, because I'd wanted to give these children something special, something that would bring joy to a household that had been dealing with too much sorrow.
But I could see in Heather's eyes that she needed to believe accepting the gifts wouldn't be a burden on me, and I was more than willing to adjust the truth if it meant she'd let me help.
I stepped closer, close enough that my presence filled her space, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. When I reached out to brush my fingers against her arm, the contact sent electricity shooting through my entire system.
Her skin was warm and soft beneath my fingertips, and I felt her shiver at the touch, watched goosebumps rise along her arm in response to my caress. Every cell in my body was screaming that this woman belonged to me, that she was my Omega, my mate, my everything.
"Heather," I said, my voice rougher than I'd intended, thick with emotion. "Look at me, lass."
Her eyes met mine. "Ye don't have to do everything alone anymore," I said, my hands coming up to frame her face with careful gentleness.
"I'm here. My pack is here. We want to help, want to be part of this life ye've built.
" I gestured toward the children, who were watching our interaction with the fascination of people witnessing something important.
"Look how much it's making them smile just to have something new to look forward to. "
I could see the exact moment her resistance crumbled, the way her shoulders sagged with relief. A laugh escaped her, bright and genuine and more beautiful than any sound I'd ever heard, and I knew I was completely, irrevocably lost.
"Okay," she said, her voice soft but steady. "You've twisted my arm then. Show me how it works."
I guided the small parade of children into the living room, my body still tingling from being close to Heather.
The space looked transformed... walls that had been cracked and sagging now stood straight and solid, windows that had gaps letting in cold air were now sealed in their frames.
The afternoon light filtering through clean glass cast everything in warm golden tones that made the room feel like something from a proper home rather than a building held together by hope and stubbornness.
"Right then," I announced, settling the boxes on the old wooden coffee table that served as the room's centerpiece. "Time to see what we've got here."
My chocolate scent filled the space as I worked, intensifying with my excitement and mixing with the lingering sawdust smell from the day's repairs. I could see Heather’s breathing deepen beside me, responding to me in ways that made my pulse quicken.
I opened the first box, peeling back layers of protective foam like a magician revealing his greatest trick. The children pressed closer, their eyes wide with anticipation as I lifted out the flat-screen television.
"Would ye look at that," I said, my Scottish accent thickening with satisfaction as I held the TV up for their inspection. "Fifty-five inches of pure entertainment! It’s the latest model, with resolution so sharp ye can count the individual blades of grass on a football pitch."
Loubie Lou reached out with one tentative finger to touch the smooth surface, her one-eared rabbit clutched in her other arm. "It's so shiny," she breathed, wonder making her voice even softer than usual.
"Aye, that it is," I agreed, carefully positioning the television on the low stand that someone had thoughtfully placed against the wall. "But that's just the beginning. The real magic happens when we get the gaming console hooked up."
I moved to the old radio that had been providing the room's entertainment, unplugging it with exaggerated ceremony. "Sorry, old friend," I told the ancient device, patting its worn plastic casing. "Time for retirement. Ye've served these children well, but it's time for something new."
The second box revealed the gaming console itself, along with a tangle of cables that looked intimidatingly complex, but which I knew like the back of my hand.
This was my world, after all. It was the technology I'd designed and built, and sold to millions of people around the globe.
But seeing it here, in this room full of children who'd had so little, felt different from any business presentation I'd ever given.
"Now then," I said, holding up various cables, "we need to connect the brain to the body, if ye will. This cable carries the pictures." I held up the HDMI cord, watching as Tomas stepped forward with shy curiosity. "And this one carries the sounds."
Tomas held out his small hands, and I placed the cable across his palms with careful gentleness.
His touch was feather-light as he examined the connector, turning it over to study the metal contacts with the focused attention of someone who understood that mechanical things had a logic to them, rules that could be learned and mastered.
"That's it, lad," I encouraged, crouching down to bring myself closer to his eye level. "Every connection has its proper place. Like a puzzle where all the pieces have to fit just right."
Behind him, Manny had parked his broken truck at a safe distance but close enough to observe everything. He tracked my movements as I connected cables to the back of the television, his brow furrowed as he memorized every step of the process for future reference.
"Can I help too?" Denson asked, his hearing aids whistling slightly with feedback as he leaned closer to watch my hands work.
"'Course ye can," I said, handing him the power cable. "Every good installation needs someone to manage the power supply. That's the most important job of all." His face lit up with pride as he carefully threaded the cable behind the television stand.