Epilogue - Shay
ONE MONTH LATER
Imagine if you took the energy from a pop concert and mixed it with a comedy show. That would accurately describe the commotion surrounding me.
Ronnie and Ashley and their packs are in the kitchen, attempting to salvage dessert.
The guys are posted up around the island in Memphis’ family’s home, simultaneously cheering them on while critiquing everything they’re doing.
Ridge’s parents—who surprised us tonight by showing up to meet their sons’ new Omega—are watching from the sidelines, drinks in hand like they’re totally used to this.
Old Man Morris and Lucy snuck off to the bathroom at least fifteen minutes ago, but no way in hell am I going to attempt to find them.
I’m pretty sure I’d have to bleach my eyeballs, along with every surface in there too.
Observing them all, the absolute one-eighty my life has taken hits me like a wrecking ball.
Over the course of a few months, I went from being completely alone in the world, minus the few close, trusted friends I’ve managed to make, to having a pack that comes with three sets of parents that have accepted me with open arms. They’ve never asked me to be anything other than who I am.
I don’t have to pretend or try to be perfect, and the way that fills my heart to overflowing is indescribable.
“Why are you over here all by yourself?” Ronnie asks, suddenly beside me.
The crowd gathered in the kitchen hasn’t even noticed that she’s slunk out of the melee.
“I’m just taking it all in. Y’all are something else.”
Ashley appears at my other side. “We’re kind of a lot, am I right?”
I smile. “Yes, but I mean that in the best way possible.”
“You can be honest. We’ve got tough skin around here,” Ridge’s mom, Marie, quips. “Hell, I’d forgotten how much alcohol is required when I’m forced to interact with y’all.”
She tips her margarita toward me, and I laugh as I tap my glass against hers.
Ashley playfully punches Marie’s arm. “Don’t you go turning our sons’ Omega against us, Marie. We’ve finally gotten the daughter we all wanted, and we need her to like us.”
“If this girl can sit here and watch you all act like a bunch of idiots at a Black Friday sale, she ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
The twins glare at the other woman who wraps her arm around my shoulder and leads me into the living room. They follow behind us, and I suddenly wonder if I should be concerned. I wouldn’t put it past this group to try to haze me or something.
“Don’t you try to act all high and mighty just ‘cuz you moved away to the land of sun and beaches. You were born and raised here in Darling and joined in our shenanigans on more than one occasion, Dorothy Marie,” Ronnie mutters.
Ashley nudges her sister with her elbow. “Remember the time the boys got in trouble for TP’ing the principal’s yard, and when they provided photo evidence, there Marie was in the background holding the package of toilet paper?”
Marie scoffs. “Principal Manus was exactly as his name sounds. A giant old anus. I had him for Chemistry, and he never let me forget the time I almost blew up his science lab. He deserved all he got and then some. He’s lucky the boys talked me out of bringing along the eggs and silly string.”
Ronnie walks over and opens a door in their massive built-in entertainment center, pulling out a package wrapped in a bright red bow. When she stops in front of me and holds it out, my stomach goes a little wonky.
“What’s this for?”
Ashley smiles, but her eyes look suspiciously glassy.
“Augs isn’t the only writer in the family.
For as long as I can remember, it’s been a family tradition to hand down The Young Book of Feminine Wisdom to a female member of the next generation.
Since the generation before us had boys, it was passed along to us.
Then, when none of us had girls, we thought the tradition might die with us, because Lord knows our sons didn’t seem to be in a rush to find an Omega. ”
“But now we have you,” Ronnie finishes for her sister.
Glancing down at the non-descript box, my emotions rush up my throat and fight to swallow them down without crying.
“Open it,” Marie urges softly.
“You just want to get your eyes on our secrets,” Ash grumbles.
“Duh,” the other woman retorts.
Chuckling, I slowly lift the lid. Inside is a leatherbound journal with flowers and filigree embossed into the cover with a simple strap that slides into a thin band to keep it closed.
I can feel the weight of the responsibility that is being handed over to me, an outsider, but surprisingly, I’m not intimidated or worried. Instead, a sense of belonging fills me.
“It’s gorgeous,” I whisper.
I lift it out of the box, and one of the other women discards the packaging while I open it to the first page.
The Young name is clearly written in a bold script with dates that go back much farther than I had expected.
Rifling through the pages, the scrawled penmanship of generations of Young women stare up at me, including pictures and drawings of family trees.
It’s an incredible history, one I’ve now been entrusted with.
“Read page forty-eight,” Ronnie suggests.
Flipping to the page mentioned, I scan the entry and raise my eyebrow.
Thank God, the era of “serving our husbands without question” has finally come to an end.
Sometimes those fools don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.
Us women know where the strength truly lies in the pack dynamic, and it’s not an Alpha who can barely think of anything other than his knot and where his next squeeze is going to come from.
-Beatrice Young
“I mean, she ain’t wrong,” Marie comments, taking another sip of her drink.
Ash taps the book. “Now go to page one hundred and sixteen.”
The bold print on that page stands out, the ink shaky.
While my predecessors weren’t wrong, I learned today the true power of the Alpha and Omega dynamic.
We suffered a loss so unthinkable, I would’ve crumbled without the strength of my pack and my Alpha there to hold me together.
So while they may have their heads up their asses sometimes, when it matters most, they come through and support their Omega without question, often sacrificing in order to do so.
Love them and all their faults, for they love you without hesitation.
-Samantha Young
“This is truly amazing. Are you sure you want to—”
Ronnie grips my arm. “We’re sure, dear girl. You are exactly who this book was meant to belong to. We just ask that you keep the tradition going…and give us those grandbabies we are praying for.”
“Now read ours, which are the last entries,” Ash says.
Turning to the pages with a now familiar strong handwriting, I read their words.
Sometimes life doesn’t work out the way you expect it to. Instead, it leads you to something better. Hold out hope and never stop wishing for what you have in your heart.
-Veronica Young
But also, don’t be afraid to explore your own desires. Passion in the bedroom is a key component to a healthy relationship. So bust out that swing, grab the flogger, and test out some anal beads. Don’t be afraid to explore with your partners. Page fifty-nine, baby.
-Ashley Young
My snort echoes through the room even though my eyes are tearing up. The juxtaposition of what my life could’ve been versus where I ended up couldn’t be starker—false perfection versus perfect imperfection—and I couldn’t be happier.
Later, when everyone has settled down with drinks out back around the fire, I end up in Ridge’s lap, slightly buzzed but so incredibly content that the warm fuzzies rushing through my blood stream are projecting through the bond.
The guys, of course, have picked up on it, and have managed to pass me from one to the other throughout the night.
Now, sitting in my Beta’s lap, I ask the question that’s crossed my mind over the last few hours.
“Back when we became friends, did you see us ending up here?”
His fingers, which were absently running through my hair, still at my words. “Why do I feel like this is a trick question?”
I laugh, snuggling into his chest. “I’m just curious. Humor me.”
“The moment you first said the word friend, I felt like I’d been sucker punched,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I was willing to take you any way I could have you, but even then I had hope that it might turn into more one day.”
“Hmmm…”
He grips my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “What’s that hum mean?”
My lips purse, and I shrug one shoulder. “I’m just a little disappointed, that’s all.”
“Why the hell are you disappointed?”
A flash of something races through the bond, but I can’t tell if it’s worry or fear.
“‘Cuz we proved them right.”
His brow furrows, and I run my finger down the creases. “Proved who right?”
I finally let my grin slip free. “Everyone who ever said that a man and a woman can’t be just friends.”
He stares down at me, his face serious. I had expected us to get a good chuckle out of that. Instead, he’s looking at me like whatever he’s about to say could solve world hunger.
“I would’ve been your friend until the end, without ever letting my feelings for you cloud that friendship, if that’s what you needed of me.”
“Ridge—”
“But I’m thankful every damn day that what started out as friendship turned into this amazing thing we have right now.
Because now you’re mine, and I get to hold you like this.
And get to kiss you whenever I want.” He tips my chin up, brushing our mouths together.
“I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world, but I would’ve tried for you. ”
And that right there is why I love this man and the others we call pack. They may not be what I thought I wanted, but they are everything I needed. In that second, I know what my first journal entry will be.
At the heart of every lasting love story is a friendship that never dies.
-Shay Young