Page 8 of Going Down Smooth: Part One

“Let’s get this over with then,” I say to myself as I walk through my family home for the first time in five years, feeling like a complete stranger.

* * *

You know that feeling you get when you know something significant is about to happen but you’re unsure exactly what it is. Like you’re teetering on the edge, your future from this moment forward will be changed forever with a swing of a pendulum. Yeah. I’m feeling this in the pit of my stomach.

I move through my family home, passing familiar rooms, my life plays out in technicolor as I stop to look at pictures of my past. A museum dedicated to the girl I once was. The smiles on my sisters’ faces, the three of us like musketeers, inseparable. Before the guys came into my life, it was us. We did everything as one.

Faith is just four years older than me, and I’m three years older than Grace. Although we have three fathers, my mother gave each one of them a daughter of their very own. They influenced our upbringing. Faith was more traditional, like our father, Christopher. Grace was a free spirit, like our father, Edward. I was like my dad Benjamin. As he would put it, I was born to lead, to be head of the family. Three different ideals created three different women.

Once Faith and Grace presented, it all changed. Now, regardless of our familial relationship, we are Omegas, and it’s hard for us to be in the same room together. Our biology demands certain behaviors from us. We became more territorial, protective, sensitive to each other’s scents. I hated it. I should be able to hug my sisters without them stiffening in my embrace before their brain reminds them that I am their blood.

Our society deems we follow our instincts, the urges and needs that make up the fabric of who we are. Well, I don’t care about any of it. I want to be free of it. If I could remove this part of my DNA from my body, I would. I don’t want my body to dictate my every move, how I respond to people and the world around me.

Which is why the closer I get to my father’s office, the more agitated I become. I want out, and I want out now. I am assaulted by the scents and smells of not only sisters, but their mates as well. Even with them being mated, I want to run out of the house and keep going until I find the hottest shower so I can scrub my skin clean. I haven’t been around this many Alphas and Omegas since before I left here.

In Chicago, besides Freeya, I moved around in tight circles to maintain a semblance of normality. Keeping my distance, controlling my hormones and emotions by separating myself; even my business is run online from the comfort of my own home.

I can hear voices coming from the room up ahead, but I can’t make out what they are saying. I’m overwhelmed, hot, sweaty, and panting. My anxiety is through the roof. I take measured steps down the hallway. The pristine white and black marble tiles are a much-needed distraction as I begin to count them one at a time. Anything to take my mind off the overpowering scents.

“Merce.” I jolt at the sound of my name. The only thing holding me up is the wall that I didn’t realize I was leaning on. I slowly straighten as Nate comes into focus. He leans forward, his face a few inches from mine. His eyebrows are raised in concern as he scans me from head to toe. His crisp apple scent envelops me and I inhale deeply, taking it in like the purest of oxygen, letting it clear my head of everyone else’s scents around me. I look up into his brown eyes and whimper, my lips pressing together as I fight back my tears. I don’t know what’s come over me. I don’t like feeling so vulnerable, so needy. But I let myself have this moment and I walk into his arms. I press my forehead into his chest, and I just breathe.

I can tell he’s hesitant, and I understand why it takes him longer to wrap me up in his arms. I can feel the heat from his hands hover over my back as he thinks it through. But when he does, he exhales hard, expelling all the emotions he’d been holding onto with one breath. Nate’s arms wrap tighter then, so tight, I take shallow breaths to accommodate. He holds me as if he doesn’t want to let me go, and in that moment, I gladly let him keep me there. But we both know this moment is fleeting. I tense and go to move away but he clutches me to his chest.

“Oh Merce. Let me help you. Let me hold you at least until your heart slows,” he says gently, as if I would break if he said it any other way. Nate strokes my back with up and down motions, a soothing rhythm sending shivers of pleasure through me as he buries his face in my hair, breathing me in. Both of us taking comfort from each other as we give into the physiological needs of our designations.

My mind begins to settle but my body has other ideas. I am all too aware of how close we are, his sweet and tangy apple scent sends my hormones into overdrive. I bite back a moan from the feel of my breasts pressed hard against his muscular chest. I can feel the heat between us as it seeps through my clothes, warming my body further. I can feel my face flush as Nate pulls away from me abruptly, taking his delicious warmth with him. His eyes wide with fear and sadness, as if his action would somehow send me running for the hills even with my consent. My heart drops as I look at one of my best friends, his strong shoulders roll forward in disappointment. I did this. This is the carnage I left behind when I ran from him, from them.

“I’m so sorry, Nate, I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t apologize, Merce. Please. If my nearness helped you, then I have done my job.” He smiles, trying to hide the pain there a moment ago, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. Nate glances towards the door, and I immediately remember that everyone is waiting for me.

“I guess we should get in there,” I say awkwardly. I want to say more. I want to tell him how good it is to see his smile. I want to say that I’d rather be wrapped up in his arms instead of walking into that office. But instead, I turn away from him. My words dying on my tongue as I head to the room. I stop and sigh, looking over my shoulder where I left him, I smile.

“Thank you, Nate. I don’t think I would have made it if you hadn’t found me. I’m not used to being around a lot of people anymore.” I shrug.

“You’re always welcome, Mercy. I will always be here with my arms open, waiting to hold you close, if and when you need me to,” he replies and follows me into the room. I have no doubt in my mind that he would do exactly that. I swallow past the lump forming in my throat and hold my head up high as I continue forward.

As soon as I walk through the doorway of my father’s office all eyes are on me. But I ignore them all for a moment as I take in the room. I spent a lot of time in here as a child. The large space is lined with dark wood panels, some hold secret storage closets that house my father’s most precious items. More pictures of my family line the walls, awards that my father coveted housed proudly inside picture frames from his America’s Best Whiskey awards, five years running, to the picture of him on the cover of Whiskey Magazine neatly arranged on the wall behind his desk. I remember sitting at the big wide oak desk, swiveling in the same exact black leather chair as I pretended to hold court. Well, that is what I used to call it. I wanted to be just like my father. I wanted to be the big boss one day. Instead of doing what was expected of me, I refused the general stereotypes placed on little girls. I learned to barrel whiskey, I learned how to store it so it aged just right. I still want that for myself.

Bookshelves stand tall on the opposite end of the room with two chairs, a lamp and a table situated in front of it for reading purposes. Two leather corner sofas are placed opposite each other in the middle of the room, a glass coffee table sits centrally, dividing the two.

Faith sits on one end of the couch, surrounded by her Alphas on one side of the room. Derrick holds her possessively at his side, offering me sneer as they all crowd her. Grace waves at me, offering me an excited smile as I take in her huge round belly. Her Alphas stand over her protectively, but they all nod their heads in greeting.

I freeze, feeling uncomfortable, but with Nate’s calming presence at my back I make my way to the seat closest to the door and sit. Nate perches himself on the arm of the red wingback chair I’m in and I can’t help but lean into his body for support. I can feel Knight, Trey, and Lox watching us both. Under their watchful eyes Nate lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and that seems to appease their curiosity. I can only assume that Nate’s presence by my side is enough to let them know there is no need to worry and he is taking care of me. I don’t miss the quirk of a smile on Lox’s face as he turns his head away from us, shifting his powerful thighs over to make more room for Trey. Knight keeps his eyes on me a little longer but eventually releases me from his stare. I don’t know how to unpack my feelings, so I sit up straight and pretend that I am not affected by all the Alpha energy in the room.

“Ah, Mercy, you’ve arrived. Good. We can get started then.” A tall man with shrewd eyes and an infectious smile breezily waltzes into the room, followed by another shorter man in tow. Both of them are well dressed in black suits and ties; expensive watches adorn their wrists. Must be my father’s lawyers, they certainly look the part. The shorter man sets a brown briefcase on the desk as my parents finally walk into the room. All three of them take seats on the sofa next to Grace. My mother is no longer crying at least. She settles in between both my fathers as the taller lawyer clears his throat.

“Thank you all for being here. Benjamin was explicit in his instructions. He wanted his wishes made clear the moment the funeral had taken place. I know that this is not the way this is normally done, and I want to offer my condolences once again for your loss. Benjamin was a great man,” the lawyer says solemnly as his colleague offers him a stack of papers. Continuing to stand, the lawyer walks in front of my father’s desk and begins to read the last will and testament of Benjamin Smooth.

“I, Benjamin Smooth. . .“

As he begins to read, I close my eyes, holding my breath because the weird feeling is taking hold of me once more. For the life of me I can’t shake the nervous churning in my gut. You know what they say about trusting those warning signs. All I can do now is sit here and let fate unfold for me once again.

FIVE

NATE

“To my daughter, Mercy Smooth.”

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