CHAPTER 14 JARED
Present day
So… I'm nesting.
I've thrown myself into it completely, letting everything pour out of me: the stress of the past few months, wrapping it all up in hope.
The pillows, scarves, ribbons, and blankets Mauro bought for me are breathtaking, almost magical, top-shelf in every sense. They're made from the finest fabrics, silk, cashmere, velvet… materials that feel like they belong in a dream. I haven't had a nesting kit like this in a long time.
Back at Alex's place I only had a basic setup, and I'd forgotten how much I'd missed that feeling of something special, that touch of the soothing, pleasant textures against my skin.
As I stroke the pillows, I saturate them with my scent.
The glands on my wrists release a unique fragrance that will later help calm and comfort me.
Once the nest is finished, I stare for a while, feeling proud.
Then I curl up inside it, and almost instantly a wave of peaceful relaxation washes over me.
My muscles loosen, my breathing slows, and suddenly it feels as though the entire world has stopped around me.
While the nest cradles me in its comforting energy, I suddenly hear voices coming from downstairs.
Curious, I get up from the bed.
My room is in a corner of the house, with two windows, one offering a partial view of the driveway and the other overlooking the side terrace. I notice the elderly omega, Silvio, settling at a table with tea and cookies, along with Emilio and Tony. Gianni joins them, as does another older omega.
I've never seen him before. He looks so much like Silvio that I immediately guess they're brothers.
So the Santoros have a guest. I gingerly slip behind the curtain, hoping they won't notice me.
From there, I watch them for a while. Through the partially open window, I can hear the muffled sounds of their conversation, and my omega hearing lets me catch bits and pieces.
They aren't discussing me, though. Just casual conversations about everyday things, small problems, and the kind of mundane stuff people talk about daily.
The atmosphere is warm and familial. At one point, Silvio puts an arm around Emilio and kisses his cheek. There's so much parental affection in the gesture that something stirs inside me. I can see the tenderness in his eyes.
The other older omega, whom they call Stefano, tells them about his grandson, who got into medical school, and everyone listens keenly and congratulates him.
There's this natural closeness between these people, something that feels almost foreign to me. Even the slightly odd Gianni seems relaxed, occasionally adding something to the conversation.
But… the longer I watch them laughing, exchanging jokes, talking about plans, and gossiping a bit, the more uncomfortable I become.
Jealousy surfaces.
This is something I've never had, and inevitably, my heart starts to ache. The pain quickly grows, soon becoming almost unbearable. My soul aches with a longing to be part of a close-knit circle like this, one built on acceptance, warmth, and love. To be part of a… family.
Those thoughts are like reefs I crash against, and the demons of my past crawl back to the surface.
Yeah.
Family.
The deepest scar in my soul:
I was a rejected, abandoned child.
My dad was a makeup artist who worked with models, actors, and television personalities, but he struggled with an addiction that only grew worse as the years passed.
He fell in love with one of the alpha models he worked with, a man who was already married.
He became pregnant with me, but that man never acknowledged that I was his child.
He thought my dad was a junkie who tried to trap him with a baby.
So my dad ended up raising me alone, and the weight of it broke something inside him.
He was kind, gentle, and loving, but he never had the strength to defeat his addiction. Sometimes he'd wrap his arms around me and cry, grieving for himself, for me, and for the fact that he simply wasn't strong enough.
When I was eight years old, he drove me to my granddad's house one day, left me there, and… disappeared. His addiction consumed him.
My granddad wasn't thrilled about being handed a child to raise during his retirement. He was one of those omegas who had never wanted children in the first place.
He had resented raising even his own two children after my grandfather divorced him, leaving him to do it alone. So when another child landed on his doorstep, years of bitterness found a new target. He called me white trash, a junkie's kid, and plenty of worse things besides.
There was no way to be happy while growing up with someone who made you feel hated every single day. So when I turned fifteen, I ran away and moved in with my cousin Alex, who was barely eighteen at the time.
Of course, I also tried to find my father, but he chased me away from his front door. The only thing I learned was that I had a half-brother named Star. I caught a brief glimpse of him that day.
I suddenly remember Storm mentioning that someone with the same name had come to him for help, someone who looked a lot like me.
Technically, he could be my half-brother, a glimpse of… my biological family?
Something surges inside me, some silly hope, and before I can think better of it, I type a text to Storm.
"Hey, I was just thinking… did that Star Daniels you mentioned happen to be twenty-two? My father’s name was Cole."
The reply comes quickly.
"Oh, nice to hear from you. Alex has been freaking out these past few days. I’m glad you’re okay, though it sucks that the True Mate thing is still unresolved.
Yes, the guy whose TM I found is twenty-two, and according to the paperwork, his father’s name was Cole. I probably shouldn’t do this, but I have a picture of him here. Take a look yourself. There’s definitely a resemblance! Maybe it would be cool if you two met?"
I blink, staring at the photo as it loads.
A moment later, a face appears on the screen…
a young, blond omega, very pretty but with a rather cold expression and navy-blue eyes.
His features look fairly similar to mine.
Obviously, we aren't identical, but there's something very familiar in our faces.
I hesitate over what to write back. I remember the traumatic day I went to their house…
"You know, our father chased me away when I went there that one time. But who knows, maybe… he’s different?"
My text remains unanswered.
Maybe Storm is busy?
I wait, staring at the screen, then sigh.
Should I let myself get my hopes up? Star is a stranger. He has his own life. He'd probably reject me like our father did, get pissed off that some random guy was showing up out of nowhere and bothering him.
The pain of that old rejection cuts through me all over again. Did my father ever tell Star that this scared kid standing on their porch was his brother?
I lift my eyes from the screen to stare out the window again, where Silvio is offering cookies to Stefano.
The two older men seem to have a wonderful relationship. Their brotherly closeness and affection might bring a smile to someone less wounded than me.
But I watch the warmth between the Santoros with bitterness and envy.
The way they support each other, care about each other's problems, love and embrace one another, makes the wound in my heart throb as if a splinter were lodged deep inside it.
The truth is, besides Alex and Tommy, I don't have anyone. I'm a kid from a broken family… who spent his whole life drifting from one difficult situation into another, constantly navigating between being disappointed and hurt.
Maybe that's exactly why I always dreamed of the exact opposite of what I had—a fairy tale? A beautiful family, loving parents, a good husband, and a house full of children.
All picture-perfect.
For years I believed building this dream would somehow stitch together the wounds inside my heart, but with Mark it seemed impossible.
And still today, my life feels like it's on unsteady ground, without safety or prospects, surrounded by mysterious strangers, lost in a tangle of secrets and things left unsaid.
With my heart heavy and aching, I pull out my phone again and open the photo Alex sent me an hour ago, showing my son on his little tricycle.
"Tommy," I whisper, tears gathering in my eyes. "My poor little boy… what kind of future will I be able to build for you? Will I ever be able to give you what I never had? The warmth of family, siblings, a father's love, uncles, grandparents? I just don't know if I'll succeed."
Frozen in the photo, Tommy's face is lit up with a wide smile, his pale golden curls tousled by the wind.
I choke out a quiet sob and lift my eyes from my phone when I hear giggles coming from the terrace.
Their guest, Stefano, is telling some funny story about one of the town's residents.
I let out a deep sigh and turn my eyes away from the idyllic picture of the Santoro family outside the window. I don't have the strength to torture myself any longer with painful memories, so I return to the nest, craving its calming energy.
Soon, I curl up inside it again, letting it soothe me the way it always does. The familiar comfort finally puts a stop to my mind's masochistic urge to keep reopening my old wounds.
And I drift into a light nap.
◆◆◆
Still swaying in a sleepy haze, I'm stirred from my nap by a soft knock at the door. A moment later, Mauro steps inside.
He pauses on the threshold, tall, broad-shouldered, painfully handsome, and the clean scent drifting from him reaches me immediately, sending a faint shiver through my body.
Being this attractive should be against the law. There has to be a statute against it, right?
Mauro’s carrying another tray of food, but instead of walking farther into the room, he freezes in place the moment he sees my nest.
A whole kaleidoscope of emotions flashes across his face, each one stronger than the last, yet I can see him holding himself back.