Page 86 of Run Omega Run

"I'm managing much better now," I replied, settling beside her on the small bench that provided rest during gardening work. "But I remember how much you enjoyed looking at my cakes, how you always asked about ingredients and decorating techniques."

Her smile carried a wistful memory mixed with practical acceptance of limitations that had made indulgence seem irresponsible. "I do miss seeing all those beautiful treats," she admitted. "And I miss seeing the children playing outside your building, hearing their laughter mixing with the smell of your baking. The neighborhood felt more alive when you were there."

Her words hit something unexpectedly tender in my chest, validation that our presence had contributed to the community atmosphere in ways that went beyond simply occupying space or conducting business.

"Your mother would be so proud of what you've accomplished," she added softly. “All those children safe and loved, your strength in rebuilding after such loss.”

I handed her the last envelope, explaining that I wanted to share my winnings with people who helped me.

“But I didn’t buy anything from you, dear.”

“No, but you always stopped to look and say hello.”

She smiled and looked inside the envelope. For a moment, I thought she might have a heart attack, but then her breathing eased, and she looked at me, squeezing me in her arms and holding me tight.

“Take care of yourself, dear, and those beautiful children. They’re lucky to have you.”

I smiled, leaving her to her gardening, using this quiet time to reflect on everything I’d achieved. There was one more person who deserved my thanks, but I knew she would never acceptmoney. So instead, I’d had a huge gift basket prepared and delivered to her home. Becky meant so much to me, to all of us. She always told me she helped because she loved the children, and I knew she did. But I never wanted to take advantage of that love. So now, now I have something I’ve earned, I wanted to share that with her.

It was appreciation, simple appreciation, for everything she had done to help our family heal and grow.

Being in love with all four of my men felt like discovering I'd been living my entire life with only partial access to my heart. Bennett's steady strength had opened up parts of me I never realized I’d been hiding. He showed me what it meant to be cherished by a lover. Dante's gentle nurturing had taught me that being cared for could feel safe rather than suffocating, his tender touch soothing away every pain and sorrow.

Angus's playful warmth had unlocked the childish joy within me. His laughter and stories created an atmosphere where happiness could flourish. Cole's quiet nature had opened me up in ways where I could be honest with myself, accepting every part of who I was and loving it.

Together, they'd created something I'd never experienced before... a complete acceptance. I could be maternal and sensual, strong and vulnerable, independent and cherished, all without apology or explanation. They saw Omega strength as a complement to Alpha protection rather than a contradiction that needed resolution through dominance or submission.

The evening air carried early spring scents that reminded me how much had changed since our autumn memorial service, growth and renewal evident even in the low-cast sunlight that had settled over our grounds. My feet found the familiar path to the weeping willow tree where Mom's ashes had been scattered, her final resting place marked by wild lavender that had appeared without planting, as if the earth itself wanted to honor her memory through beauty that required no human cultivation.

The stone bench that Bennett had installed provided comfortable seating for visits that had become a regular ritual, moments when grief and gratitude could coexist without competing for emotional priority. Evening light swept over branches to create patterns in the shadow that shifted with gentle breezes.

I settled onto the bench, hands resting in my lap, while my thoughts organized themselves around conversations I'd been having with Mom's spirit since the day we'd said our formal goodbye. Whether she could actually hear these one-sided discussions remained uncertain, but the practice provided comfort that felt real enough to justify continuing regardless of metaphysical accuracy.

"I think you'd be proud of what we've built here," I said, words addressed to a presence I couldn't see but somehow felt with certainty. "All the children are safe and loved, growing stronger every day. The girls we rescued are healing in ways that seemed impossible when they first arrived. Even Susie has found peace with what happened to her."

The evening sounds provided a response that felt like acknowledgment, crickets and gentle wind creating music that spoke of life continuing, seasons changing, growth persisting despite loss that had seemed devastating when first experienced.

"I love them," I continued, the admission felt significant despite being spoken to empty air and moonlight. "All fourof them, in different ways, we fit together perfectly. I never understood how pack bonds were supposed to work, but now I can't imagine organizing my heart any other way."

A gentle breeze stirred the wild lavender at the tree's base, a movement that could have been random air currents but felt deliberate enough to seem like a response. Warmth settled on my shoulder like a hand offering comfort and approval, a presence so vivid that I almost turned to see who'd approached without announcing themselves. But the sensation carried a familiar comfort that belonged specifically to Mom's touch.

"Everything will be alright now," her voice whispered through memory so clear it might have been spoken aloud, carrying the same gentle tone she'd used to comfort frightened children. "You have love that will last, family that will grow, and strength that will carry you through whatever challenges might come."

I smiled. I was incredibly lucky, genuinely fortunate. The mansion behind me held more love and security than I'd ever dreamed possible during those desperate months. Children who'd been traumatized by loss and abandonment now laughed with joy, their healing visible in everything from improved posture to willingness to trust adults with their vulnerability. The pack that’d claimed me provided protection and affection, cheering me on every step of the way.

But beyond current blessings lay possibilities that made the future feel pregnant with potential that extended far beyond personal happiness. Love would grow deeper through shared challenges that tested commitment without breaking it. Our family could expand through natural processes that would bring new life into our family.

I looked down at my abdomen, one hand settling against fabric that covered changes too early to be seen yet, and I smiled.