Page 10 of Omega’s Fold

I do not know how long I stand there.

I turn around.

I can see the house from here and the car is parked in front of it, the alpha leaning against it. He raises his hand, shielding his eyes from the sun and looks around. He can’t see me, not from where he is standing.

I watch him make a decision. He walks up to the porch steps and knocks. Caleb opens it so quickly that it’s obvious he was standing just inside waiting.

I cannot hear anything from here. Not one word. I can only see Caleb’s shape in the doorway and Julian’s shape on the porch and the way Caleb’s head tips to one side.

Caleb steps aside.

Julian goes in.

The door shuts.

I pick up the wire and my gloves, and I walk along the creek line for another twenty minutes. There is no purpose in it. I am putting distance between myself and the house because I cannot think straight any closer to it.

When I come back, I do not come back through the yard. I come up the long way, around the north side, and I enter the house through the mudroom door with my boots still on.

I can hear voices.

Caleb’s, low and even. The alpha’s is quieter. I pull my boots off, and I walk in sock feet through the mudroom into the back of the kitchen.

The alpha is standing at the landline in the kitchen. He has the receiver to his ear.

His back is to me. He has taken the jacket off and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair. His shirt is plain and white and fits him in a way that is — stop it — the sleeves are rolled to the elbow. I can see his forearms.

I stand very still in the doorway.

Caleb is at the table. He has his biology textbook open, the same book he was pretending to read last night, and he is pretending to read it now. He flicks his eyes up at me, once, and back down. Says nothing.

The alpha has not yet noticed me come in.

“Yes,” he says, into the phone. “He’s — no, the omega’s not in the house right now.” A pause. “Yes. He walked off. I’m not going to pursue him across a field, Sun, be serious.”

He listens.

“Well, I am at the property. I did what you told me to do. I’m calling to confirm the next step, because I would like to be very clear about the trial requirements before I commit to being here.”

Another pause. He is twisting the phone cord around one finger as he listens. I watch him do it. He is not doing it consciously. It is a nervous movement from a man who does not look nervous.

“Two weeks,” he says.

My stomach drops.

“Continuous, on the property,” he confirms. “Yes. Yes, I understand that. I want to be absolutely clear on what continuous means here, because my read of the compliance framework is that any break beyond —”

He listens.

“Right. Look, he clearly does not want me here.”

A longer pause.

The alpha’s shoulders move once. Small. Whatever he is being told is not what the alpha wants to hear.

“I see,” he says, and his voice has gone harder.

The person on the other end says something. The alpha keeps frowning. “Yes. Understood. I’ll call tomorrow.”