She snuggles closer, mumbling in her sleep, and I switch from humming to singing softly. It’s just a random tune I’ve been working on. One of the lucky parts of working here is that I get room and board in exchange for being on call constantly five days a week. I get to sleep, but I’m on location in case we have an emergency, like last night. Though that was one of my days off, at least up until midnight. It lets me have a weekday and a weekend to take care of any business stuff I need, as well as try to look for music gigs. Not that there have been many of those lately with all the time I’m working.
Her cold nose presses against my chest and she sags, settling further into the cradle of my arms. I get another brief spike of irritation at my inability to purr for her like an alpha would if he were here. Of course, they don’thirealphas to work as guards, just us betas. The bigger the better. Though there are a few ladies on my squad that could easily be mistaken for omegas—and have been a couple of times, much to some poor alpha’s detriment.
My mind scrapes back to Teddy, whose name is a bit on the nose really considering his size. He had a guitar case of his own, and he talked a lot about his friend Sarah. If thisisthe same Sarah—the drum kit I saw in her nest would indicate as much—she’s also into music…I wonder if the vibrations from my bass or guitar would be close enough to a purr to help her feel better?
Nah, Greg, don’t be a dumbass.
Omegas don’t work that way.
Neither do alpha purrs, it’s something you have to be built with.
Is there somebody I can call to purr for her…does it even work over the phone?
Shit.
Chapter 4
It’s too fucking cold for this shit. Or I need a heavier coat. Cupping my hands to my face, I blow across them, trying to warm up my frozen fingers. It shouldn’t be this cold yet. Sure, it’s November, but come the fuck on. Maybe Spence is right, and I have been losing weight. Now that he works at the gym, I can try hitting it a few days a week and get some cardio. Maybe help my circulation. Getting old fucking sucks. Not that thirty-five is old, but the last six months have kicked my ass hard.
I flex my fingers to work out the stiffness before shoving them back into my pockets. All I wanna do is drag my biggest packmate back to the apartment and fix a hot cup of tea or a bowl of soup. It’s about lunchtime…I’m not really hungry, but something warm sounds amazing right now. The holiday parade is always the weekend after Thanksgiving, but this weather seems obnoxiously cold already.
Steve has managed to irritate everyone here, and Pack Carpenter just left. The kid’s an asshole, but at least he’s a loyal asshole. Steph and Sal are packing up, too. Xan and Leo just put tiny knit caps on their kids’ heads before passing them back to Jacks and Candice for kangaroo care—they’re still so tiny.
I tug on Spence’s shoulder, trying to get his attention, but the poor guy is besotted by the twins. They’re only a few months old, and one is getting strapped to Jacks’s chest while Candice is putting the other in a wrap and zipping her jacket almost all the way up. There’s not much to see on either of them now except for the tiny stocking caps with rainbow pom-poms sticking up in front of their parents’ chins—but it doesn’t stop Spence from hovering.
The big guy loves kids, and I feel bad for any beta or omega that eventually ends up with our pack. Spence has four sisters, all betas, and he’s convinced we need to find a nice girl and settle down and start a family. He’s still pretty young, so he’s allowed to have that hope. I gave up on it a while back. I’m getting too tired, and the idea of chasing around a half dozen or more littles is horrifying. I mean, I’m not in bad shape. I like to keep fit, and while Oak Flats isn’t exactly a mecca of crime and depravity, being a cop means staying healthy enough to handle emergencies.
Sure, Sam tried to convince me to join the fire department too since he took over, but I’ll already be there in case shit goes down. Spence jumped at the chance, though. I love the guy like a brother, but he volunteers for everything. Anything to help people out. He’s already doing so much, it’s a surprise he has time to actually have a job. Though now that he’s finished his degree, I guess it makes it easier.
The low, rumbly growl coming from the firefighter Santa standing behind his omega finally snaps Spence out of his baby fixation and he shuffles back to me, muttering an apology toJacks and Candice for invading their personal space. She waves him off and tells him it’s alright, but the skin around her eyes is tight—she’s really uncomfortable around other people, but tries to act like it doesn't bother her. That’s fine, we all wear our “out in public” masks just to survive.
Spence ducks his big head, his cheeks flushing hard as he mumbles a quick thank you and another apology before trying to hide behind me. I’m not actually sure how he expects that to work. Even if he wasn’t taller, he’s still twice as wide, and I wonder briefly again how I managed to form a pack with my baby brother’s best friend. But the truth is the guy has charisma in spades. He’s just genuinely sweet and likeable.
I remember the first time he came to our house; our parents thought he was in my class, not Josh’s. He and Spence have been best friends since elementary school, and after years of them hanging out at our place, Spence just became like a second little brother. His home life was good, but both his parents and all his sisters are betas, so I think growing up he wanted to spend more time with other alphas, or probable alphas. Of course, Josh fell hard for Billy in high school, and then Spence just kind of latched onto me. Josh and Billy are still together and I’ve inherited an oversized golden-retriever alpha.
Thankfully, everything is easy with him. He’s just the chillest guy I know, and I don’t want to hurt him by telling him that starting a pack with me and then adding Alistair means he probably won’t have an omega. He wants someone to love so badly. I’m old enough that it’s gonna be hard to find someone who wants to start a family. Alistair is so busy with work that getting him to agree to do anything is like pulling teeth. And while I love Spence like family, he can’t take care of himself very well. There’s no doubt he could survive on his own eating ramen noodles and frozen burritos, but that’s not exactly the life you want to present to a potential mate.
Spence’s big hand lands on my shoulder, drawing me out of my mental monologue. “Hey, you think Al’s back from his date yet? You think she might be ready to meet the rest of us?”
I turn to take in his hopeful expression and can’t bring myself to crush it. “Yeah, I mean…maybe. Let’s get the hell outta this wind and get going. We’ll see if he’s made it home.”
Spence looks thoughtful for a moment before nodding with determination and marching in the direction of our apartment. I don’t know what’s going on in his head most of the time, but I don’t see how somebody could not love him after they’ve gotten to know him. Of course, the problem with most of the women Alistair brings home is that they don’t want to get to know Spence or me. Alistair is the professional, the professor, the one people look to as the leader—once they figure out he’s not an omega. Which is ironic considering his personality and desire to avoid responsibility. I’m honestly not sure why he ever thought being a college professor was a good fit—it’s like the antithesis of his outlook on life.
Still, that’s how Spence met him and brought him into our pack, like other people would bring home a stray puppy. As I said, the man just has charisma in spades. People want to be around him…except omegas, I guess. Though we’ve never actually gone to an omega center to meet one, so who knows. Maybe they would all be enamored of the big lug, too.
Istare intently as Spence comes out of the bedroom carrying a shiny box. I can’t make out anything else because his big hands are covering the photo and writing on the side. He looks at me sheepishly as he sets it on the counter.
“Spence, why do we need a fancy rice cooker? Seriously, the only things you ever make that aren’t frozen or just-add-water are potato and hotdog soup or PB&J. It’s a waste of money right now that we could be putting back for a house.”
He looks mildly affronted by my statement. “Just because that’s all I make doesn’t mean that’s all I know how to cook…I just don’t see a point when that’s fine for me. Besides, I have a job. I am an adult. I need adult things. Some of those things happen to be nice stuff for the kitchen.”
I stare at the big alpha who’s reading the instructions on the manual of a rice cooker with more functions than the police department’s coffee maker, and let out an exasperated breath. “Now, I know it’syourjob and money, but come on, man. There’s no point. I get that fancy kitchen gadgets can be…important. But why that? I mean, I’ve never seen you eat rice.”
Spence raises his chin, looking down his repeatedly broken nose at me. “I told you, I need adult stuff, and this one is supposed to be really good according to review sites. Besides, I like rice. Like…you can fix ’em like grits, with milk and sugar and butter. It’s really good.”
I swallow a few times at how nauseating that sounds to me, but then I never had much of a sweet tooth. I finally give in with a shrug. “Ok, big guy, but…um…where do you want to put it…counter space is kind of at a premium already. Our apartment is pretty fucking small. That’s why you’re sleeping on the couch until we save up enough for a down payment on an actual pack house.”
Spence looks deep in thought for a moment, his head swinging from the counter to the pantry shelves. However, before he canformulate an answer, the front door opens and Alistair walks in. He’s younger than me by a few years, but today he just looks worn down. Spence smiles at him, his usual sunny disposition breaking through. “Hey, Al! How was the date? Um…short?”
