Chapter 19 Wyatt, Boone, Levi, Wade, Cooper #3
Big enough for four kings, even if we didn’t push them together to make one gigantic bed.
Anytime this room came up in conversation—before the subject of our potential Omega turned painful—we’d all wonder what our scent-match would prefer.
Everyone sleeping together? That might be problematic for Wade and Wyatt.
Private nights with each of us, taking turns?
Would she just want to sleep alone? I fucking hated that possibility.
Even though Coop and Boone called me a certified cover thief, I hated sleeping solo.
The room seemed to trap me, the bottoms of my naked feet gluing to the floor. Maybe I should just stay here until they finally found our match. Stay here, as if I were participating in some kind of protest where you refused to move until you got what you wanted.
Stay here.
Until our Omega was here.
And if they never came? I’d be content to rot in this very spot, until I was just a bag of bones, still rooted to the pine planks. Without warning, a primal scream exploded through the air. It startled me, almost caused me to lose my footing. I looked around, eyes wild and searching.
I realized, very quickly, that the sound had escaped from my own mouth.
Wade.
The old truck rattled and bounced beneath me as I took the winding driveway of Sagebrush Ranch a little too fast. The speedometer needle trembled just above thirty, which was about twenty miles per hour faster than any sane person would drive down the rutted dirt path.
In the truck bed, cardboard boxes filled with egg cartons, along with bundles of old newspapers, shifted with each bump.
I winced as a particularly hard jolt sent the entire load flying upward.
The paper goods seemed to float midair for a moment before crashing back down.
That was warning enough to make my white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel loosen and my foot ease off the gas.
It wasn’t that the stuff I’d gathered from town was fragile, just more crap for Cooper and Boone’s third greenhouse.
They’d already outgrown the original two we’d built.
Felt like we’d been collecting these materials for weeks—cardboard to layer the bottom of raised beds, egg cartons for seeding, and newspapers for sheet mulching.
Another delivery of good soil and fertilizer would come by dump truck next week, but these recycled materials were just as important.
Setting aside the egg cartons, all the boxes and paper put me in mind of moving.
Made me think about how close the new house was to being finished.
Caused me to wonder if someday I’d gather these same items to help our Omega move here, to their new home.
As I drove across the property, past the rambler and towards the greenhouses, my eyes landed on Boone and Behaichi slowly ambling toward the stables.
Damn, that man looked good on the back of a horse.
Over the years there’d been moments, passing fancies really, when my casual intimacy with him, Coop, and Levi left me craving more.
Not that I’d joined their trio lately. Hell, I don’t think even they were managing much outside of quick hugs these days.
Not a one of us—aside from Wyatt, who kept trying to feed his urges with trips into town—had much interest in sex, or even sex-adjacent activities.
Even the fact I’d admired Boone from a distance was surprising.
I pulled to a stop at the back of the last hothouse, cutting the engine and hopping out.
Methodically, I unloaded the truck bed directly into the new greenhouse, piling everything up in a central spot.
The elevated planters on either side of the aisle were ready and waiting.
I thought it was overboard to test more sugar beet varieties, but this wasn’t my passion project.
Only plants I cared about were ones that might directly affect the animals I tended.
Though we were all on board with growing, the third greenhouse addition had given me pause.
I wasn’t averse to splitting our operations, but I’d begun to align more with Wyatt on cattle ranching.
The more Boone and Coop planted, the more they talked about the land now earmarked for fields, the more I found myself realizing that I wouldn’t love this life without the cows.
I wouldn’t be myself if I wasn’t daily bottle feeding a calf, checking an expectant momma, or even playing with Tripp and Tater out in the pastures as they guarded the herd.
Sagebrush Ranch was cattle. It was its history. Granddad bled for this land. So did Dad.
But I'd seen Cooper and Boone’s research, and Levi’s projections.
Sugar beets to start, maybe move someday into micro-farming heritage wheat.
Cash crops and sustainable farming could increase our profits, insulating a sometimes-volatile beef market.
Next year would be one to weather. We always kept our eye on Ag Alpha News.
Their agriculture economists were talking about rising prices for cull cows.
It meant a lot of ranchers were going to thin the herd, even good potential breeders for calves, to make money.
Laymen might think that was a good thing.
Low numbers of cattle later, steady demand, automatic higher prices.
Unfortunately, the U.S. had a habit of meeting consumer demand by trucking shit in from Brazil.
Any American rancher who over-culled for cash, would have less ability to compete with the imports.
Only thing that might save the situation was the fifty percent beef tariff.
After I’d relocated the last bundle of newspapers, I closed and latched the greenhouse door.
I left the truck where it was, keys tossed on the dash, and I strolled towards the house.
I wasn’t tired, though I should be after barely sleeping last night, so I’d tackle some cleaning.
Bathrooms could use a good scrubbing, baseboards too.
As I rounded the side of the rambler, I spotted Levi's tall figure stalking purposefully toward our new place. Even from this distance, I could sense the tension in his shoulders, the rigid set of his spine… and the fact he wasn’t wearing any shoes.
Levi wasn’t in a good place. He’d never go outside barefoot. He hated getting dirty like that.
I followed him, just to make sure he wasn’t going to do something stupid.
The scent of plastic and paint hit me as I pushed into our future home.
It concealed any note of my Alpha brother’s scent, but I knew somewhere inside, Levi was wandering alone with his thoughts.
A person’s thoughts weren’t the best companion when life was going poorly.
A person’s thoughts could tear them down quicker than bullets.
When I was in the kitchen area, ladders and drop clothes scattered everywhere, I hesitated.
Should I give him space or offer company?
With Levi, it was sometimes hard to tell which he needed.
Go or stay. Both options felt flawed. I didn’t like that I wasn’t sure.
The answer had always been ‘stay together’.
That was the meaning of a pack. These days, we orbited around each other like planets out of alignment, all feeling the same gravitational pull toward something missing, but unable to find our proper paths.
The sun was gone. Our galaxy lost its star.
Somewhere, deeper in the house, I heard movement. Somewhere, deeper in the house, I heard a soul-shattering scream.
Cooper.
The knock on the front door startled me.
I frowned, glancing down at the cookbook.
The berry cobbler recipe now had a slash of blue ink diagonally across it.
I’d been making notes in the margin, since I wanted to modify it for our next fake cattle drive.
I’d stew down the berries in advance, freeze them in quart bags with pads of butter and use a boxed cake mix for topping.
Toss it all into the cast iron Dutch oven, slap it right onto the campfire, and we’d have gourmet worthy of a glamping trip.
Another knock. Firm, persistent. The sound echoed through the quiet house.
Nobody was answering it. Was I the only one in the house?
Shirtless, sweatpants clinging to my hips and apron not even wide enough to hide my nipples, I moved to the front of the house. Another knock sounded just as I reached for the knob.
I swung the door open to find a delivery guy in a crisp uniform holding a clipboard and standing next to a large basket wrapped in cellophane and tied with an elaborate bow.
The biggest one yet. My heart sank. Another goddamn gift from Eros.
Would the card read, “hang in there, we expect a match any day,” or “our database continues growing! We value our clients!” or maybe it would be my favorite message so far, “A chew a day keeps ferality away!” Too bad the gum tasted like licking a wet latex glove.
"Delivery for Sagebrush Ranch," the guy said, thrusting the clipboard at me. "Sign here."
I scribbled my signature, barely glancing at the form. We'd been through this routine too many times since the testing. When I accepted the hefty basket, I was surprised by its weight. This one was substantially larger than the others from Eros.
"Thanks," I muttered, but the Beta was already halfway to his van. I closed the door. “You’re going straight into the trash, my friend,” I spoke to the monstrous basket. “No one else has to know you exist.”
But then my gaze snagged on the gold trimmed envelope attached to the front of the basket.
The word "CONGRATS!" was printed in bold metallic letters across its surface.
I froze in place. My heart stuttered nearly to a stop, then resumed at double speed.
Nearly dropping the basket in my haste, I ripped the sealed card from the plastic wrap.
With one shaking hand, I broke the seal and pulled out the inner card. My eyes scanned the message inside, not believing what I was reading.