Epilogue
THREE WEEKS LATER
TRISTON
“ T here’s the man himself!”
Sean’s booming voice cuts across the thrum of conversation buzzing around me.
As I twist toward the sound, Penny drops her head into my shoulder, hiding her face.
He’s clad in simple dark brown chaps and a black button-up, a bolero tie with a large turquoise stone around his neck. He tips his tan hat in greeting.
And then he takes in the two people with me and the toddler on my hip.
“Well holy hot damn,” he says. “All those posts were right. You did go and pack up while hiding out in Wyoming.”
He holds out his hand to me, and I take it easily.
His brandy scent washes over me, but it doesn’t pull the same response as it did in Oakland.
His gaze catches on the mostly-healed bond scar nestled under my right ear, and surprise flashes in his scent.
His eyes are wide as saucers, wider than Michael’s were in Billings.
All I can do is laugh. All I’ve done for three weeks since locking out on the pasture is laugh and smile and drown in happiness.
“Well, damn, man.” Sean grins. “Congratulations!”
I murmur my thanks and then introduce my pack. Penny doesn’t move at all, still tucked hard against me. He turns to Beau and holds out his hand, then tips his hat toward Emily.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he says.
“Where do you need me?” I ask before things can lull into that awkward in-between moment in introductory conversations.
“Wherever you want!” He grins. “Thought there’s a bull rider I’d love for you to chat with if you’re up for it.”
I can’t help but grin, too. “That’s why I’m here, man. Put me to use.”
With that, he leads us deeper into the gathering crowds.
The sounds and smells and people are so familiar to me, even with the added discomfort of Nashville’s humidity, that it’s second nature to settle into it.
It feels almost sacrilegious to be walking through this open air arena without my own chaps and vest on.
Several people stop in their tracks as we pass, their eyes widening just like Sean’s.
Emily tucks in tighter to my side, her hand tight around mine, her nails digging into the back of my hand.
I lean over, carefully avoiding her hat and my own, and press a kiss to her temple.
“Hey man,” Sean says as we step into one of the smaller areas blocked up from the main crowds. “How’s he holding up?”
A man in his forties with a graying beard and tired brown eyes sighs and shrugs. Sean’s mouth tightens, and then he’s looking over at me.
“Well, I have someone who might be able to make it better.”
It’s then that the new man focuses on me. His eyes widen, too, and then he swallows. He pushes off the wall and holds out his hand to me.
“Oh my gosh, it’s amazing meeting you,” he says. “Thank you so much for being willing to talk with my son.”
“Of course,” I murmur, keeping my smile firmly in place as I take an offered hand.
Sean’s not known for giving details in a timely fashion, and it’s clear this moment is no exception. It seems like Sean suddenly realizes I don’t actually know the situation, and he clears his throat.
“This is Matthew,” he says. “His son is named Teagan. He’s been riding bulls for about three years, started just before high school.”
That doesn’t surprise me. Not that I can’t encourage any of the kids here competing over the weekend.
Any time you sit atop an animal, working with it to achieve a time or a score, is a feat and something I’m happy to chat about.
But introducing me to other bull riders is that one level of specification.
“How’s he been doing?” I ask.
Sean grins. “A downright natural, man. A natural. Like you when you were on the amateur circuit.”
“Fantastic.” I adjust my hat and then my hold on Penny. She tucks her head deeper into the crook of my shoulder.
Matthew sighs. “Yeah. Except about three months ago, he presented. And now there are a whole lotta people telling him he’s wasting his time trying to bull ride. That he’s better off switching to team roping or being a hazer.”
I frown. “He presented as an Omega?”
Matthew nods once, his mouth tight. “And now he’s terrified to ride again. Most of the people… they mean good, y’know? But now all that they’re sayin’ is mucking up his head. And I don’t know how to get him out of it. He loves rodeo, loves being on the bulls. I hate that he’s struggling.”
Empathy wells in me. I nod and then pass Penny to Beau.
“Let me sit with him for a bit.” I turn to Emily. “Will you stay here for a minute? Before you take Penny over to the petting zoo?”
Emily nods, and her agreement is a balm under my sternum.
Matthew knocks on the threshold.
“Teagan?” His voice is cautious.
A kid on the verge of adulthood sits in a metal chair.
His hair is a bright red, the curls smashed from where he’s clearly been wearing a hat.
He leans forward, his knees resting on his elbows, his shoulders rolled in.
Between his knees he holds a riding helmet in a careless grip.
When he finally glances up at his dad, his gaze goes to me.
The color drains from his face, and he sits back in the chair.
“Um, hi,” he stammers. He holds out a shaking hand. “It’s, um, it’s an honor.”
I give a soft smile back, then grab one of the chairs folded up and leaning against the wall.
I drop into it, spreading my knees and resting my elbows on my knees.
I steeple my hands and let my chin sit on my fingers.
Matthew stays in the doorway, and when I glance over my shoulder, I can see Emily just behind him, though I don’t think Teagan can see her.
“So the last couple months haven’t been great,” I say, trying to figure out where to start.
His straight spine deflates, and his eyes grow sad. “No, they haven’t.”
“You want to tell me about it?”
His gaze flicks to his dad and then settles back on me.
“I, um, had a boyfriend. Before I presented. He broke up with me after the Council confirmed everything. He said…” His throat ripples.
There’s a flash of pear scent that surrounds me before fading again.
He must be wearing a lotion. Lotions are a lot more economical than the much more expensive scent blockers that most adult Omegas opt for, especially for teens that are still growing.
“He said he didn’t want to watch all the Alphas trample all over me when I lose my spine. ”
Anger roars up in me, hot enough to burn white, and Emily’s own reaction blends with it. By force of will alone, I swallow it down.
“Well, that’s a weird way for them to say they’re intimidated by you,” I offer.
His eyes widen.
“Last I checked, I still have my spine. And I have more buckles than him, too.”
His lips flip up in a small smile, but his shoulders are still rolled in, his confidence gone. I sigh and then tell him a bit about my own experience of presenting.
“I was raised by a single dad,” I start.
“He was an Alpha. My mom had been an Omega. Things… things weren’t good between them.
She left when I was just starting elementary school.
I never learned the specifics. But from that day, my dad hated Omegas.
All of them. He let that hatred grow and and grow until it blinded him to anything good in life.
When I presented at sixteen, that hatred transferred to me. ”
Teagan frowns. “I’m sorry.”
I wave away his sympathy.
“I turned to bull riding as a way to make money to get out of his house. Most people tried to get me to try something they thought better fit Omegas. But the prize money for bull riders was always the highest at the rodeos I went to, so I didn’t listen to them.”
I clear my throat.
“Turns out, Omegas make mighty fine bull riders. We’re leaner and more agile than Alphas, which often makes it easier to handle the rides.
But we also are softer spoken. I’ve never had a bull try to ram me, even when they’re at their most irritated.
I’ve heard people say I’ve just been lucky, that I’m quick on my feet.
But even when I’m working cattle out on the ranch in Wyoming, they’re slower to go after me than the other hands.
” I shrug. “It might not be anything at all. Might just be seeing something where I want to see it. But you know what? I’m still a damn good bull rider. ”
He nods, and some of the sadness falls away from him. He sits straighter, tracing one of the bars of the helmet’s cage.
“One of the girls at school said she wouldn’t want to date an Omega who rides,” he admits.
“Then she’s missing out,” I say bluntly.
I drop my hand to his shoulder. “The people who are yours? They’ll love and support you.
Even though your job is scary and dangerous.
They’ll be by your side the whole time because they love you.
And bull riding is part of you. An Alpha who’s intimidated by the fact that you ride is just insecure about themselves.
Don’t let them get under your skin like that. ”
I glance over my shoulder, and Emily smiles. My question crosses our bond, the emotion strong, and she nods. She eases past Matthew and rests her arm across my shoulders.
Teagan swallows.
“Ma’am,” he says, dipping his chin.
“You know who was the biggest supporter of me going back this fall?”
Teagan shakes his head. I squeeze Emily’s hand.
“My own Alpha,” I say.
Teagan’s eyes flick from me to Emily. It’s clear when he gets it. His eyes widen, and his jaw drops.
“The people who love you will be in your corner, all right? If they aren’t, then they aren’t worth your time.
” I ease to my feet and clap his shoulder.
He stands with me, a bit of color back in his cheeks.
Then I give him the words Lance told me the day I wanted to quit, when I’d not managed to get enough points to jump to the pro circuit for the second year in a row.
“Every time you ride, you tell the Omega in the stands that they can do it, too. You tell the kids that have all those same negative voices pestering them that there’s a path to silence them. ”
He swallows again, but then he nods. He grabs the vest from beside the chair and slips it on, securing it in a ritual similar to my own.
“Th-thank you,” he says, blinking away tears.
“When you win that buckle, I’ll be in the stands,” I tell him. “That’s a promise, all right?”
He smiles and then looks at his dad. “I still have time, right?”
Matthew nods. “Absolutely, kid. Let’s get you to the staging area.”
Emily kisses me when they’re gone.
“You’re a special man, Triston Carpenter,” she murmurs. “I’m glad you’re mine.”
Happiness drowns me as I wrap my arms around her. Vanilla surrounds us, and I breathe it in. This is what I dreamed of at eighteen.
Fuck, am I lucky.