Chapter 3
Elijah
“Sorry I’m late,” I hiss as I rush into the kitchen, almost falling on my butt as my shoes slide a little. I grab the stainless steel bench to keep myself upright. The kitchen is big enough to run a team, but it’s mostly just the two of us working. This space is Franco’s pride and joy.
“What have I told you about footwear, Elijah?”
“Kitchen success starts with safety first,” I repeat with a grin at my mentor.
Franco Sol smiles at me as he chops onions with a speed that still makes me nervous for his fingers. I shouldn’t be. He’s a god in the kitchen. When I first started working at Be Seaing You, I’d been stunned and amazed that he wasn’t working in the city or looking to grow the restaurant.
But that’s not Franco. He’s just happy feeding his family and friends.
I grab my apron and tie it on. “So, what’s happening today? What are we making?”
“We’ve got a few reservations, a birthday party, and the Pack Makers are hosting a dinner for their Valentine’s Day plans.” Franco smiles at his onions like he’s smiling at his omega. I have never seen a family so in love as the Sols.
Pack Makers again.
I wince, reminded that I volunteered our pack for this Pack Makers Smitten event in a panic. Devon had almost killed me.
“Oh, sounds good. Have they ordered the specials?” I ask, trying to focus on work and not the blind panic over who we’re likely to be paired with tomorrow.
I’m not good at talking to people. Hell, I’m not much good at anything an alpha is supposed to be.
Things come out wrong when I get nervous, and I’m not calm and strong like Mack or fierce and charismatic like Devon.
“I’ve got their order as usual. It just needs to be made when they get here. The cakes are in the refrigerator. Milton brought them over earlier. We should be out of here by eight.”
“Got a burning date?” I tease.
Franco looks up from his onions. “Sofia is home.”
The world spins wildly before coming to a sudden stop. “Sofia’s home?” I fail to hit nonchalance and instead say those two damning words with an undignified squeak. A completely, unalpha-like squeak.
“Yes!” Franco beams at me. “You remember Sofia, yes?”
I remember Sofia very well. I remember the party and the game of Spin the Bottle. In the darkness with her scent just starting to bloom, the feel of her lips and how I was ruined from that moment on.
“Uh, kind of. I mean, I think I saw her around.”
Franco, damn him, just smiles wider. He scrapes his onions into a pan and starts cutting up carrots.
“How long has she been back for?” I say, clearing my throat, but I don’t miss the glimmer of amusement in my boss’ eyes.
“She got back a few hours ago. Brought a new man with her.”
My brows snap down, and, for one second, I can’t hide my displeasure. “A man?”
“Well, he is kind of a dog.”
I cock my head to the side, studying Franco. “He’s an actual dog, isn’t he?”
Franco doubles over, slapping his knee, laughing so hard tears come to his eyes. “Oh, you should see your face. Devastation unlike any other. So much for all these years of pretending Sofia who.”
My cheeks burn.
“Don’t worry, son, I’m on your side. She needs an alpha exactly like you.”
Yeah, right. No one needs an alpha like me. I don’t say the words, though; they just fester inside, like my parents taught me.
My mortification lasts another half an hour until prep is done; my grim mood lasts longer.
Franco ties a black apron around his thickening middle and checks his hair in the mirror.
It’s one of his habits that took me forever to get used to.
When I asked why, he said that his omega loves his hair, so he always makes sure it looks good for her.
The answer stuck with me for months. I dreamed of having an omega who still liked my hair after forty years and found myself yearning for something I’d never given much thought to.
My parents don’t even like each other, much less any parts of each other.
Mind you, they don’t like me terribly much either. Especially since I decided not to take over the family law business they co-own. Throwing my life away working as a chef in a dead-end town in the middle of nowhere is not what they planned for me.
But I’m the happiest when I’m cooking, and Franco and his weird little not-funny jokes have become the cornerstone of helping me discover what kind of alpha I want to be.
He’s been more of a father to me than my own father.
Patiently teaching me, smiling at my mistakes instead of yelling, welcoming me into his family.
“I doubt she even remembers me,” I mutter in exasperation.
Franco walks past whistling. “Well, judging from the scribbles all over her English homework, I’d say you made an impact.”
I drop the frying pan I’m about to put on the stove and curse. “She scribbled?” I ask hopefully.
“Aww, I really like how red you go over my daughter, young Elijah.”
I don’t pout or strangle him, but it’s a near thing.
“You’re mean, Franco.”
“Being mean keeps me young. I’m like a shark. If I stop snapping at things, what use am I?” he says cheerfully.
I cock my head to the side, trying to figure out what he’s even talking about, but my mind is full of Sofia. She wrote about me?
“Oh, look at that smile. Yeah, you are totally still hung up on her. But I have to tell you, if you hurt her, I will break all your bones and put you in the minestrone.”
Minestrone?
“I’ll behave myself. I promise.”
Franco turns, singing La Vie En Rose as he whirls away.
I set everything aside and focus completely on service, pumping the dishes through, one after another, while Franco serves and entertains the guests. The night drags, and, in every spare moment, I’m stuck thinking of her until I think I will go insane.
Has she changed? Will she remember me? What should I say to her?
“Ready to go home?”
I nod my head and follow him out to the road with the cake I baked in hand.
“Are you excited for the Pack Makers tomorrow?”
I stumble. I’d forgotten all about it. Drat. “Uh, yeah, I absolutely am.”
“You are a terrible liar. That will help and hinder you. If you are going to lie to your omega, you need to get creative. Instead of answering “does this make me look fat”, you can pretend to think and say, “well, I love it, but I was really dreaming about peeling you out of that blue number you wore last year”.”
I blink at him. “Does that work?”
“Like a treat. Of course, the trick is to mean it.”
I purse my lips and check the carefully wrapped box I’m carrying. Everything still looks secure.
We get to the house, and I see a strange rusted car sitting in the drive. It is ugly and looks like it’s ready for the junkyard, but everything in me hates that she was driving this unsafe vehicle. I growl at it, surprising myself.
“Hello the house!” Franco booms.
He dumps his keys, picks up a whiteboard marker, and scribbles a massive F in the middle of it. Under his supervision, I put a small x in the corner. But my eyes find the one that stands out. A heart with devil horns in swirling flourishes. It’s her. She’s here.
“Daddy! It’s not fair.”
“Imogen. How was work, Daddy? Did you have a good day?”
Imogen pouts and crosses her arms over her chest. “Yes, yes, all that. But why does Daphne get to go out all night? She’s only thirteen. You didn’t let me until I was-”
I creep past and slide into the kitchen, which is thankfully empty. I love staying here, but I can’t wait until our home renovations are done. The Sols are a lot of personality.
I set the cake down on the counter and climb the stairs to our room, her room. I’d known the minute I’d stepped inside that it was hers. It has been the most exquisite kind of torture, lying in her bed, imagining her in her bed. Smelling her scent on everything, including my skin.
I grab my stuff and head to the shower, taking a quick one before I wrap a towel around myself and slip out of the bathroom. I’m almost to her room, my room, when the door opposite mine opens up.
She comes out in a cloud of ginger, mango, and coconut. Her auburn hair so striking as it catches light and turns to fire. I always loved the colour of her hair. I’d never seen a colour like that until I came to stay with my grandparents in Sunshine Cove.
We collide because I have nowhere to go and she’s right there, and even if I wanted to go somewhere, I couldn’t move because it’s Sofia, and she’s here in front of me, after all this time.
Omega. Mine.
I shove that voice down in a panic. What was that?
She bounces off me and turns, looks at my naked chest, the towel wrapped around my waist, her eyes climbing until she’s looking at my face, and I brace myself, waiting. Brown eyes, warm with those flecks of green that I noticed when the dawn came all those years ago. It’s her.
Really her.
“Eli?” She is the only person in the world who calls me Eli.
Relief sweeps through me, and I grin, though I’m sure it looks wobbly. She called me Eli. I could sing, I’m so happy.
“Sofia, welcome home,” I say instead with a slim shred of dignity.
Her eyes dip down my body and come back up. She swallows three times and then abruptly steps back.
“I didn’t know if you’d remember me,” I say softly.
“How could I forget you?” She frowns, looking around. “What are you doing here, though?”
“My pack is staying here.”
“Oh?” She’s confused for a long moment. “OH! You’re with Devon?”
I shrug. “Or he’s with me.”
There’s an expression on her face now that looks more familiar. She’s panicking. I remember seeing her around town and hearing someone yell her name; she’d get that exact look on her face.
“We have cake,” I spit out.
“Cake?” she asks and the panic stalls.
“Yes, to welcome you home. We brought cake. Well, truthfully, I baked it.”
She darts the tip of her pink tongue across her bottom lip, turning it glossy. Oh, god, I’m getting hard. Stop thinking! Stop looking.
“I’m going to get dressed, and then I’ll be down,” I say, now in my own world of panic.
“Oh, okay. I should-” she looks down at herself. She’s wearing an oversized jumper with leggings.
“You look perfect,” I say before I can stop myself. “Beautiful as always.”
Her eyes get even wider, and I think perhaps I shouldn’t have said that. “Thank you?”
“I’m going to go and get dressed.”
I step towards the door and bang into it when it doesn’t magically open.
“Shit!” My cheeks burn, and I almost lose my grip on the towel.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine! Bye!”
I grab the handle, push it down, and manage to get inside, leaning against the wood while I wait to see if I’m going to burst into flames or drop through a hole in the ground. I pull on my clothes as fast as I can and then rush down the stairs and to the kitchen where I find the whole Sol family.
Except her.
Where is she?
“Hey, Elijah,” Lorelei says as she passes me. Franco seizes her hips as she passes and kisses her.
“Good evening, my beauty.”
She giggles. I’ve gotten used to their displays of affection.
Imogen is leaning on the counter, talking to her father, Milton, who is filling up a row of mugs with secret recipe cocoa.
She’s got long ginger hair and freckles and, at fifteen, is surprisingly quiet.
Sebastian is glaring at the wall, his arms crossed over his big chest, his brown hair is messed up, like he’s been running his hands through it.
Daphne and ten-year-old Ivy are sitting at the table, both of them like miniature versions of their mother.
Most shockingly, the twins are here. Felix leans against the wall, scowling at his sister Asher.
Both look tense and angry. They are twenty-three and fraternal twins, though they look similar enough that they can and do pass for each other.
They are also both omegas. The Sol pack adopted them when they were two, and though they are part of the family, their secret twin relationship keeps most people at arm’s length.
Asher looks at me and mouths that we’ll catch up later, then she pulls Felix with her, and they both disappear.
Devon slides into the room like a blast of warmth on a wintry day. I find myself breathing easier with him here. The bond thrums lightly in my chest, buzzing in a way it never has before.
She appears and slips into the room, casting a wild look at us before she focuses on her family. But before she can enter, a dachshund races past her, yapping happily.
Mack fills the doorway.
“Sofia.”
She turns slowly and stumbles back, and I can almost see her putting the information together.
I wonder what she’d think if she knew the reason we all met is because of her.
“Mack,” she whispers and retreats further, but Devon’s there, boxing her in.
She turns, looking up at him with wide, panicked eyes.
“So, you three are in my room? Are there any more of you?”
Mack laughs. “No, Sofia, it’s just the three of us.”
She bobs her head. “Just you three.” She sounds like she’s going to strangle on her words. Her mango, coconut, and ginger scent gets stronger, intense. I take a step across the room towards her before I force myself to stop.
She inhales, and her face clears. “Vanilla, coffee, and sandalwood.”
My heart pounds in my chest. That’s me. That’s my scent.
I bite my bottom lip, and she lasers in on the spot where my teeth hold my flesh. She tears her gaze away and sidesteps Devon until she is safely behind friendly lines, staring at us from beside her mother.
“So, how's the Pack Maker event coming along?” Franco has the indecency to ask.
“Good. We’ve found Sofia a splendid match.”
I whip my head towards Lorelei Sol, as does almost everyone in the room. No, this cannot be happening.
Imogen starts to laugh, but Sofia isn’t laughing.
“What do you mean you found me a splendid match?”
“The most perfect match. It’s going to be great. Just you wait.”
A protest rises in my chest, but I swallow it down, unsure if I can even voice it here. Devon’s lost his smile, and even Mack doesn’t look thrilled.
“Who?” Imogen shouts, casting a sly look at me.
It’s an open secret that we all had a thing for her. I’m not sure how many people know, but I think it would be easier to find out how many people don’t.
“It’s a surprise. She will find out tomorrow.”
“No, I will not. I'm not doing it.”
“Does that pack have a claim on you?” her mother asks.
I whip my head in her direction, noticing the red stain on her cheeks, the way she looks down and fidgets. “Well, no. I, uh, don’t have a pack.”
I feel an urge to break out into a dance and wisely refrain.
“Then what’s a couple of dates for Valentine’s going to hurt?”
“Just a couple of dates?”
“Just three dates. You get to dress up, feel good, get treated like an omega princess, and flirt. It’s just a bit of fun, and if it turns to more, isn’t that wonderful?”
I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.