Page 43 of Omega’s Fold

He is turning with the kettle in his hand and a mug in the other and he is saying something about sugar and then he stops, because he has seen my face, and his own face changes.

He puts the mug down, fast.

“Wyatt.”

I don’t move.

“Wyatt. I was going to tell you.”

I am already moving. I am turning. I am out through the kitchen door and through the mudroom and I am shoving my feet into my boots without sitting down and I am out the back door before I have thought about any of it.

The yard. The pickup. I get in. I don’t look back at the house.

I drive.

12. Julian

The dust from Wyatt’s truck hangs in the yard long after he’s gone. I watch it from the porch, then I go back inside and rinse the two coffee mugs and put them on the rack.

I stare at them. Anger is bubbling up through my veins. I want to pick up the mugs and smash them against the wall. I’m a damned fool. I should have told him. I knew I should have, but it never seemed like it was the right time.

I end up standing at the sink listening to the pumps. You can hear them from the kitchen if you know to listen.

It’s about an hour later that the second truck pulls into the yard. For a breath I think it’s him, but then I register the different engine and I’m already moving toward the door when Donna comes up the porch steps.

She doesn’t knock. She looks past me into the kitchen, a sour look on her face, and steps outside again without crossing the threshold.

“Out here,” she says.

I follow her onto the porch. Her scent has changed. The usual settled beta warmth has gone, and I know before she opens her mouth that Wyatt has told her.

“You son of a bitch,” she says. Yup, he definitely told her. “You had a mouth all week,” she says. “You chose not to use it.”

“I was going to tell him.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, asshole. If you were going to say something, you would have.”

“I—”

“You know when would have been a good time? When we had the townhall meeting. That would have been amazing.” She has her arms folded, and I get the impression that she is settling in for a long hard telling off. I am not in the mood for that.

Hell, I’m not perfect. I know that, but it’s not like I was given a choice as to whether I wanted to be here either. And it’s certainly not my fault that Wyatt hasn’t taken the offer he was given.

I open my mouth again, but she gets in before me. Again.

“Pack your things,” she says. “Go back to the city. You don’t sleep in this house tonight.”

“Donna—”

“Don’t.”

“No. Not happening.” She tries to interrupt me but I just keep talking. “I’ve got three days left on the Bureau order, plus the weekend. I’ll leave as soon as they let me off the hook.”

Her face darkens. “I don’t give a shiny shit what penalties you’re going to get. I want you out. I’ll call the Sheriff if I have to.”

“And I said no. Legally, I have a right to be here ‘til end of week. Besides,” I say, “if I get penalties for non-compliance, Wyatt gets penalties for non-compliance. I have no idea what they’ll hit him with but you and me both know that they hit omegas harder with these things. I’ll be on my way as soon as the co-habitation days are done. Just need to run down the clock.”

She grunts, clearly not happy but she knows I’m right.