Chapter 16
Greg spent the last few hours wrapped around me, letting Shaggbutt hop around his bunny run, and generally avoiding my family. I love these people; they birthed me and raised me, and yeah, ok, sometimes it feels kind of awkward because I’m one of the many middle kids. And, alright, so I didn’t mate with my high school sweethearts like Shelly or pack up with half the football team like Josh. And maybe I haven’t been wildly successful like Jeremy, and all I have is a bunny, unlike Sasha and her seven kids. And maybe I’m not a rare female alpha like Scarlet, and I’m not taking over the family business like Jacob…but…ok, well, when I look at what everyone else is doing, maybe I do suck.
I don’t fucking know. We’re taught that it isn’t supposed to be a competition with family, but every time Mamá calls, all she wants to talk about is how great everyone else is doing.She always asks when I’m going to settle down with some nice alphas, not that I’ve had any luck meeting any until recently. She wants to know when I’m getting my degree and moving home, and I don’t have the heart to tell her that I’ve changed my major so many times just to avoid moving back where she can try to fix me up. I’d rather be alone than with somebody I don’t like or know.
Heck, if Greg wasn’t my scent match, we wouldn’t be together, just because I suck at getting to know people. Not that Pretty Boy is any better. We rarely talk, and we’re both good with comfortable silence. Still, I love his voice, and when he sings for me. It gives me massive warm fuzzies, plus I’m pretty sure that I could fall asleep listening to him read the damned phonebook. Honestly, it freaks me out sometimes how attached to him I already am. Teddy tried to tell me, but the whole scent match thing is serious business.
Which brings me to my other problem—John. He’s my scent match, but he’s only visited once since we met. Even that was short and he didn’t bring his pack. Maybe they don’t think I’m good enough either. Not that I plan on changing for a bunch of fucking alphas. Greg seems to like me for me, so why would I want to be someone else when I already have someone so accepting?
Other than the knotting situation, and that’s…well, it could get complicated at my next heat, but I don’t doubt that he’ll be happy to help me with my toys, or we can see if we can get him some kind of sleeve or knot attachment to wear. I think they make those. If not, they should.He he he…knot.
The sound of soft snoring startles me out of my thoughts, and I raise my head enough to look at my pretty beta. He’s been worried about me and this trip, and we were up at five this morning to get on the road. If I didn’t think it would wake him up, I’d sneak away now to grab us some food so he doesn’t getstuck dealing with my family any more today, but I’m sure he’d disagree that it was a problem. Looking over at the clock, I must have dozed off too. It looks like it’s almost seven already. I’m surprised that nobody woke us up for food. Dinner should have started over an hour ago.
My stomach rumbles at the reminder. Greg shifts in his sleep, giving me room to slip out from under his arm, and I seize my opportunity, sliding off the edge of the mattress. I land on my butt because while this bedcanfit two adults, we were so close to the edge that there was no room for me to swing my legs out. Greg grumbles in his sleep at the quiet thud, and Shaggbutt thumps from his run, probably annoyed at the audacity of my disturbing his rest.
Standing up, I rub my sore ass while waiting to see if Greg will wake up. He just rolls over and wraps his arms around the pillow I was just using, burying his face in the fabric and settling back down. Shaggbutt thumps at me a few more times to get my attention, then gives me a snarky bunny glare, hopping back and forth between his dry pellet food and the door to his run. Silently asking why he’s stuck with this stuff instead of his normal fresh greens. But this travels better without a cooler. Plus, he already ate all the hay we gave him earlier—sifting the pellets out of the mix and ignoring them—but he demands his fresh food.
My voice is barely a whisper. “I’ll see if Mamá has anything for you, Shaggy, or maybe some carrots with the tops still on. I didn’t forget about you, I promise.” I’m unsure if he understands, or if he realizes I’m not going to produce treats out of thin air, but he hops back over to his bowl and begrudgingly starts to nibble on some pellets.
My parents say I spoil him, but honestly he keeps me sane at school, especially since Teddy left. Poor guy’s getting up there in age too, since they got him for me a few years after I enrolled in the omega center. Everyone was worried about menot socializing enough, but in truth, I was kind of enjoying not having to be around so many people for a change. Our family home has always been loud and busy. It was nice to just not have to deal with everybody else’s bullshit. I was already friends with Teddy, but it was someone’s bright idea to get me something I could cuddle with. If they only knew. I love Shaggy, but he’s a surly little shit. Complete Karen all the way through. This bun rarely wants snuggles and would totally ask to speak to my manager if I tried.
The door makes a soft click as I pull it closed and try to tiptoe down the hallway. I don’t know why I bother since one of Sasha’s kids starts screaming bloody murder at the bottom of the stairs. Something about not sharing a toy. The real surprise is that I hear Mamá’s voice, soft and cajoling, instead of the wrath and fury she would rain down on us if we ever screamed in the house. Maybe she’s mellowed out in her old age, or maybe she’s just better with kids that aren’t hers. Regardless, she’s holding Sasha’s four-year-old, Alicia, when I reach the bottom of the stairs.
She eyes me critically, and her voice is full of censure. “You missed dinner, Sarah. The leftovers are in the fridge if you or the beta want anything. You should know better than to have sex in my house, young lady.” My feet freeze as my brain processes her words, and my jaw drops open.
Why?
What?
Fucking eww!
“Not sure exactly where you got that idea from; Greg and I fell asleep. We’ve been stressed about the car trip and had to get up early and deal with traffic. If I wanted to have sex, I could have stayed home. Hell, I should have stayed home.” The last bit is said more to myself than to her, but she still looks angry.
“We sent Sasha up a couple of hours ago to get you, and she said that she didn’t even bother knocking because of all the sex sounds coming from there. Don’t try to lie to me, Sarah. I won’t have it. First, that omega boy you hang out with, and now a beta. They’re bad influences on you, Mija. You need to do better if you’re ever going to find a pack.”
And here we go again, it can’t be my fault that I don’t want to deal with alphas. Let’s try to put the blame on somebody else. It has nothing to do with me being almost thirty, too snarky for my own good, and possibly broken. Hey, no…it’s obviously my best friend or beta at fault here. Also, we were asleep a couple of hours ago, so I’m pretty sure Sasha is lying through her fucking teeth. Not that Mamá will listen if I say that.
Seriously, if it weren’t for needing to feed Greg and Shaggy, I’d just go back upstairs and crash till morning. I rarely bother to eat unless someone reminds me. Which does mean I’ve gained a couple of pounds since Greg moved in; that man insists on not letting me miss meals. There’s no answer I can give that won’t bring more shit, so instead I just shrug and walk towards the kitchen, intent on reheating something for us and then going the fuck back to bed until tomorrow. Maybe things will be easier after everyone gets some much-needed rest.
Unfortunately, Mamá sees this as me ignoring her instead of wanting to avoid a fight. “Don’t you walk away from me, young lady. Why did you bring that beta home, anyway? We know you say he’s your scent match, but he’s not an alpha. He’ll make it nearly impossible for you to find a pack. Nobody will accept an already bonded omega. If he was already part of a pack then it would be one thing, but…Mija, I worry about you.”
Of course she worries, though I don’t know if it’s actually about me being happy, or just the idea of me eventually having to move home if I don’t have an alpha—which, let’s be honest, is complete and utter bullshit that I have to have a fuckingguardian at my age. Hell, if something were to happen to my parents, then I’d have to live with one of my brothers, and nobody has any fucking time for that shit.
Nodding along to whatever it is Mamá is rambling on about, I pull open the fridge and find a couple of large pizza boxes and pull them out onto the counter. I open the top one and see several variations have been stored together. I grab what’s left of the Rat Trap for me and Greg and toss it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. I don’t mind leftover pizza, but I’m not a huge fan of cold cheese that smells of old feet. But room temperature or warm is totally my fucking jam, and Greg’s the only person I’ve ever met that I can share this culinary delight with. I’m actually surprised that there were five slices left. Normally I have to beg, borrow, and steal to get one ordered when I come home.
Mamá is still talking behind me, and I watch out of the corner of my eye as she sets Alicia down and nudges her towards the door before turning back to me. She squares her shoulders and I turn my attention back to her, letting her words wash over me. “If this is about kids, don’t worry. You don’t need to have them. I have enough grandbabies. Your papa says that I’ve been putting too much pressure on you for that, and it wasn’t my intent. If you don’t ever want kids and just want to have a pack and a bunch of bunnies, we’re fine with that. We want you to be happy. You aren’t obligated to have children.”
My eyes sting because I know this is her attempt at being supportive, but she also missed the fucking mark by a mile. Taking a deep breath, I straighten my spine. “It’s not that I don’t want kids.” It’s impossible to miss the way the tension leaves her body. “But we’re both aware that I don’t know if I can even get pregnant. You know the doctors said the PMOS can cause fertility problems. My heats are all over the place.”
I hold my hand up to cut her off as she starts to interrupt. “It’s not the suppressants, Mamá. I’ve told you. I’ve talked tothe doctors at the omega center. I might never be able to have kids, or it might be really difficult. If I even find a pack. I’m one of the oldest unbonded omegas on campus. And I’m fine with that. You need to be fine with it too. If it’s just me and Greg, I’ll be fine. He’s mine, and he means the world to me. He already accepts everything about me, even if I am broken, he doesn’t care. Besides, I’ve seen the way he is with Shaggy, if it comes to that, he’ll make an amazing dad.”
Instead of being happy that I’ve found someone I care about, her voice is snappy. “Of course you would say that, Mija, he has you fooled. Taking care of a rabbit is hardly the same thing as taking care of a child. The two aren’t even comparable. You give it food and water and a place to exercise. It isn’t a child. I mean, your uncle Marco is great with the chickens, but I wouldn’t trust him to care for a human.”
I can understand that—Marco is very sweet, but the man would forget his own head if it wasn’t attached. The chickens are loud enough he can’t forget about them, and I’m pretty fucking appalled at what she thinks pet care entails. We had barn cats growing up, but I don’t recall ever having an indoor pet. I always just thought she didn’t like cats, but maybe she’s not an animal person in general. Still, her disregard for the care and affection that I have for Shaggy is really fucking frustrating. I don’t give many shits if my family are assholes to me. They’re my family and I’ll deal with it. But nobody fucks with Shaggy or Greg, they’re mine.
Still, I’m trying not to argue. If I argue with Mamá, then my dads will get involved and it’s just not a road I want to go down. My relationship with her has always been strained because I’m notgirlyenough. I don’t like pink; I don’t like dresses. When I wanted to join band and play the drums, she about had a fucking aneurysm, telling me I needed to play something feminine, like the flute.
What the hell is feminine about blowing into a stick?
